Tumgik
#nct 127 smut
smileysuh · 2 days
Text
heart aches
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🌙 starring. Jeong Jaehyun x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper. “Never again,” he promises.
tw/cw. foreplay, fingering, mutual masturbation, hand job hand fucking, spitting, finger sucking, inklings of oral fixation, praise, dirty talk, pining, reminiscing, breast worship, teasing, Jae being a simp, unprotected sex, handholding while fucking, Jae is pretty vanilla but pent up as hell, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 5.3k
🍭 aus. ex's to lovers, non idol au, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. I don't normally do angst, but Idk, this felt right for some reason this month
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Prologue:
“What’s wrong?” Jaehyun asks, watching you fiddle around the bedroom while he cuddles with your cat on the bed. 
Part of you wants to push back your feelings - you’d kind of been hoping to talk to him at the airport in the morning - but you should have known Jaehyun would realize something is up with you. It’s been a nice long weekend having him home with you.
It’s almost been like he never left.
Almost.
With a deep sigh, you go to sit on the foot of your mattress, staring down at your hands. “I can’t do this anymore,” you say quietly.
The room feels achingly silent, and then the comforter ruffles as Jaehyun sits up. “This?” he asks. 
“Us.” The word hurts to even say. “The distance… I mean, I knew continuing our relationship while you’re in a different city at a new university doing your graduate program would be rough… but… I just didn’t know I’d ever feel this lonely.”
Tears are welling in your eyes. You don’t want to break up with Jaehyun- he’s had your heart for four years. Starting over with someone new sounds impossible- but at the same time, being away from him hurts more than you could ever have imagined. It hurts when he calls you every night, being the perfect boyfriend, smiling and telling you about his day. It hurts because you thought you’d go through life together- you thought you’d be there to see it all yourself, not hear about it after the fact on the phone.
“Come here,” Jaehyun says softly, moving your cat off his lap so he can open his arms to you.
You allow Jaehyun to pull you into an embrace, his fingers stroking your hair. His heart is thundering in his ribcage, and you can hear it as you cuddle closer.
“I’m sorry that it came to this,” he breathes, “but I understand.”
You can’t help the tears now, and a choked sob escapes you. You grab at the front of his soft hoodie, wanting to crush the emblem of his new school. Part of you wishes he’d never been accepted into the elite business graduate program, but another part knows that Jaehyun deserves to be where he is now.
You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and that’s what makes this so painful.
Jaehyun needs to focus on his studies, to build a new life for himself across the country- and you need to do the same. You can’t be a ghost anymore, walking through life like a zombie and waiting to hear from him, constantly checking the time zone differences and calculating what he’s doing based on schedules.
“I can still…” you rub at your eyes, swallowing thickly, “I’ll take you to the airport in the morning-”
“It’s okay, baby,” Jaehyun shushes you gently, kissing the crown of your head. “I can get a cab.”
“Are you angry at me?” you ask, pulling away from his chest to look up at his face, worried about what you might find there.
“Of course not,” Jaehyun assures you, immediately stroking a thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. “No matter how much I didn’t want to admit it, I knew things had changed when I moved away. I could see that the distance was a problem. You have needs, and I’m proud of you for voicing them, even if it hurts.”
“My heart is breaking,” you whimper.
Jaehyun frowns. “Mine too.”
“You’re really not mad at me?”
“I could never be mad at you,” Jaehyun promises. “I think it will be easier to talk about this with time, if that’s something you’d be interested in. But for now, how do you feel about just laying down, holding each other, and doing our best to enjoy tonight- if it’s going to be our last.”
It might be easier if he was mad at you, if he yelled and swore and tried to make you change your mind- but Jaehyun’s never been an abusive type. Instead, he holds you close, and as you softly cry on his chest, you begin to drift off to sleep.
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One
Even in a crowded bar, one distant laugh makes your blood run cold. You grip your drink, heart thundering in your rib cage as you scan your surrounding area.
It’s been two years since you broke up with Jaehyun. Even so, you’d recognize his voice anywhere.
“You good?” your best friend asks, reading your change in expression.
“Yeah, I just thought I heard-” as you’re about to say his name, you spot Jaehyun. He’s leaning against the bar top, chatting with a man whose back is to you.
God, he still looks so good. 
Your chest aches, throat going dry. As you watch him, his eyes move to take in the bar. You’re quick to shift your gaze, lifting your drink to your lips to down the rest of it. 
“I need to get out of here,” you mutter.
“What? Why?” Your friend reaches for your arm, pulling you closer to check in on you.
“My ex is here.”
“Which one?”
“Which one do you think?” You let out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.
“Fuck.” 
“Yeah. Listen, have fun, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You hand her your empty glass, giving her one last look before you turn to head to the entrance of the bar. 
You can feel eyes on you as you push through the crowd, but you chalk it up to being paranoid. You slip through the front doors, intent on hailing a taxi. As you make it to the cement sidewalk, you hear your name behind you, and that familiar voice has your blood running cold for a second time tonight.
“Y/N?”
Your whole body freezes, and for a moment, you truly consider running. But you’ve already run from Jaehyun once before, and you don’t have it in yourself to do it again.
With a deep breath, you turn to face your ex, your first love, the man you’ve never recovered from.
“I thought that was you,” Jaehyun mutters quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he stares at you.
You don’t even know what to say, so you keep your mouth shut, taking in his pretty face and the broad set of his shoulders. 
“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have followed you,” he admits finally. “It doesn’t look like you want to talk.”
Jaehyun turns to head back inside, and your body reacts on its own accord; you grab at his arm, and it makes him stop. He looks down at your hand, wrapped around his forearm, then up at you.
“We…” you swallow thickly, “we can talk. I just… I don’t know what to say.”
“That makes two of us.” 
You drop your hand from his arm when you realize he’s not going anywhere.
“I uh…” Jaehyun clears his throat. “I got back to town a month ago. Meant to message you- but I didn’t know what to say then either.”
“You completed your program?”
“Yup. With flying colors.”
“I guess I always expected you to be a big shot and move to some other city- what are you doing back here?”
“Unfinished business… maybe.” Jaehyun dips his head, looking down at the ground. You watch him absentmindedly kick at an old cigarette butt.
He can’t be talking about you… can he?
“Anyways,” Jaehyun meets your eyes again, “how’ve you been?”
“I’ve been…” you search for the right word, “okay.” 
“Yeah? Happy?”
“Sort of. You?”
Jaehyun shrugs, offering you a lopsided smile that makes your heart ache. “Sort of. It was two years of studying. Didn’t have much time for extracurriculars, as you know.”
So your breakup is still a sore spot for him, you can sense it in his words. He’s not outwardly saying it, but… it’s there all the same. There’s something of an apology in his statement, because you do know how hard it was for him to find time for things outside of school- it had been the main reason you’d had to call things off with him.
“How about you?” he presses. “Any uh… any protective boyfriend who’s about to show up and beat my ass?”
You can’t believe he’s asking you outright about this, and the question actually makes you let out a small laugh. You shake your head. “No. No boyfriend.”
“Good. I mean… I hoped you were happy, but uh, you know, it’s nice to hear that, well, you know what I mean.” Jaehyun looks down again, and you can see his ears turning red.
It’s as clear as day that Jaehyun still cares about you. The way he’s acting tells you everything you need to know… well, almost everything.
“So…” you wrap your arms around yourself, “are you planning on leaving again? Do you know how long you’ll be in town?”
“Nothing is set in stone,” Jaehyun admits, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you. “Listen, I’m just going to say it.” He takes a deep breath, meanwhile, you can’t even breathe. “I never got over you. I mean, how could I? You’re everything, and- I understand why we broke up, I really do. But my program is over now, and if you give me another chance, I promise not to go anywhere ever again, at least, not without you right there by my side.”
“Jaehyun-”
“If you need some time to think about it, I totally get that-”
Jaehyun goes to take a step back, and you find yourself grabbing at him once more. Your body simply can’t let him go- not now, not ever again.
Your ex looks down at your hand on his forearm, and as you open your mouth to give him your response, no words come to mind. Your gaze dips to his lips, and before you know what you’re even doing, you’re moving in to kiss him.
Jaehyun is frozen in place at the initial meeting of your lips, but after a moment, you feel his body relax. His hands gently slip to your waist, tugging you closer as he slants his mouth against your own. You feel him release a small groan, and a whimper bubbles in your chest.
How many times have you dreamt of this moment? How many times have you thought about kissing Jaehyun? 
Your arms wrap around the back of his neck, and you allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of him-
Someone lets out a whistle, and you roughly pull back from Jaehyun, your eyes finding the two bouncers outside the bar, who are staring at you with wolfish grins.
“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” Jaehyun asks, resting his forehead against your own.
“Come home with me.”
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Two
It feels like deja vu to be walking into your apartment with Jaehyun. You’ve had the same unit for years- and you know it must feel even weirder for your ex to be here again after practically living here with you for half of your time in university together. 
As you toss your keys onto the entryway table, you hear a familiar meow. Your cat slinks in from the kitchen, but instead of heading to you, she immediately moves toward Jaehyun’s feet, letting out an obnoxiously loud purr as she begins to rub against him.
“Looks like Mittens hasn’t forgotten me either,” Jaehyun smiles, immediately bending down to pick up the fluffy grey and white kitty. She leans into his touch, purring like an engine as he scratches he cheeks. Her paws begin to make softies on his arm, and it makes your heart ache.
You’ve dated a few guys casually in Jaehyun’s absence, and Mittens has never liked any of them. She always was a daddy’s girl- after all, you’d started dating Jaehyun only a few months after you’d picked her up from the shelter. 
You still have pictures of the two of them on your phone, hidden in a secret file- you’d never had the heart to delete them, and as you watch their reunion, you’re glad you never did.
“She missed you,” you admit. “We both did.”
You watch Jaehyun’s Adam’s apple bob with effort, your words clearly invoking emotion. You’re quick to look away.
“Can I get you anything?” you ask, kicking off your shoes. “I had a few drinks at the bar, was planning on making a grilled cheese-”
“You still do that?” Jaehyun asks.
“Yeah.” Your throat feels dry admitting another ghost of your past you still haven’t been able to shake. “I still do that.”
Grilled cheese after a night out had always been your thing, and when you’d started dating Jaehyun, it had become his thing too. You can’t even count how many nights the two of you came home from university parties only to make a grilled cheese and collapse on your bed, giggling and kissing like kids in love.
“A grilled cheese sounds perfect,” Jaehyun says. “Thank you.”
He follows you into the kitchen. As you begin to make the late-night snack, you realize Jaehyun has no intention of putting Mittens down. She basks in his attention, letting out upset chirps any time he tries to stop petting her to help you in small ways.
Jaehyun asks you about your job, and from that, the two of you begin to talk about your lives over the past two years. It feels too natural to slip into this type of conversation. His presence is so calming and familiar- by the time you’re done making the grilled cheese for you to share, it’s almost as if the past two years never happened. 
It’s almost as if you never left him.
Almost as if he never left you first.
“Do you want to eat in here?” Jaehyun asks, heading to the small kitchen table.
“We can go to my bedroom,” you say softly. “Unless you wanted to be here.”
“Your bedroom is good.” 
He follows you through your apartment, but when you get to your room, he stops in the doorway.
“I can’t get over how little this place has changed,” he muses, looking at the layout of the space.
“Yeah,” you sit down on your bed, lifting your legs onto the mattress and setting the plate by your knee. “I guess I’m used to it like this.”
Jaehyun knows all too well how comfortable you get, how hard it is for you to make changes. You think it must be one of the reasons he never fought the breakup. If you’d gotten to the point of needing an emotional separation to deal with the physical distance, pushing you to change your mind would have only made things worse.
“Can we come sit with you?” Jaehyun asks.
“Of course.” You gesture to the mattress. “Make yourself at home, Jae.”
With a small chuckle, he comes to join you. He’s careful when he sets Mittens down, and she immediately stretches, letting out a massive yawn before coming to investigate the grilled cheese.
Jaehyun reaches for his half of the sandwich. “I missed these.”
“It’s just a grilled cheese,” you laugh.
“Yeah, but there’s something special about the way you make it. I can’t explain it.”
You can only offer him a smile as you both lift the gooey, cheesy, greasy, crispy bread to your lips. The crunch is satisfying, and Jaehyun shifts the food to his right hand so he can pet Mittens with his left. 
The two of you eat in silence, but there’s nothing uncomfortable about it. As your meal comes to a quick end, your phone begins to ring, and you stand up to answer it. “Give me a sec,” you tell him, exiting the room while Mittens rushes to follow you.
“Hey girl,” your best friend says. “You okay?”
“I’m good.”
“Seeing your ex must have been pretty hard.”
“Actually, uh…” you look toward your open bedroom door, swallowing thickly then lowering your voice, “he’s at my apartment with me.”
“What!?”
“Yeah, we’re talking things out.”
“Just talking?” You can hear the cheeky grin in her voice.
“Don’t be like that,” you laugh.
“Girl, you and that man were a dream couple. He’s the one that got away, and now he’s in your apartment- he’s probably sitting on your bed, eating grilled cheese-”
“God, stop,” you groan. “Am I that predictable?”
“Nah, it was hashtag just couple things. Okay, look, obviously you’re doing good- I was worried you were somewhere crying and drowning yourself in booze. I’ll leave you be. Say hi to him for me.”
“Will do.” You hang up, looking down at Mittens. She’s circling your feet, and with a sigh, you go to refill her food bowl. You’d given her lunch hours ago, and you feel bad that she just watched you down a grilled cheese with nothing for her own little mittens to get a hold of.
Also… your best friend knows you too well. 
Your body is reacting to Jaehyun as if there was never a separation- or maybe, your body is reacting because there was a separation. Your pulse is picking up with each step back to your bedroom, and when you close the door behind you, Jaehyun cocks a brow, finishing his grilled cheese with one last large bite.
“You good?” he asks.
“I’m great,” you tell him, approaching the bed.
“Yeah?” Jaehyun’s gaze moves to the closed door, and he offers you a dimpled grin, mischief flaring on the edges of his expression. “You locked out Mittens.”
Nothing gets past this man. You’ve never loved getting intimate while Mittens is trying to hog Jaehyun’s attention, and you shouldn’t be surprised that he got you figured out the moment you closed the door to your bedroom.
“Don’t even with me, Jae.” You sigh, collapsing onto the mattress next to him while he moves the grilled cheese plate to the side table.
“Look, I don’t want you to feel any pressure just cuz I’m here and we’re sitting on your bed-”
“Does it look like I feel pressure?” you ask, hyper-aware of the way your dress is riding up your thighs.
Jaehyun gives you a slow once-over. “I guess not.”
“You really mean what you said about not going away a second time?” You look down. “Because I don’t think I could take it if we gave this another try and three months down the line you moved cities again.” 
Your ex nods. “I promise. If you give me one more chance, I won’t let you down.”
You stare at Jaehyun for a moment, studying the sincerity on his face. “Okay.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You open your arms, resting back against the pillows and spreading your legs. “Now come here.”
Jaehyun practically leaps on top of you. He slots between your thighs like he was made to be there, his mouth pressing to your own while you wrap him in a tight embrace. He kisses you like he’s been starved of your lips. 
He retains some of the gentleness that he’d exhibited outside of the club, but there’s a desperation too, you can almost taste it on him… along with the grilled cheese.
The thought makes you smile, and Jaehyun breaks the kiss to look down at you, also grinning. “What?”
“Nothing, just- I’m happy.”
“Me too,” he admits, looking down at your beaming face before he grabs your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, angling your head to the side so he can access your neck. Your ex finds your sweet spot as easily as ever, as if it hasn’t been two years since his tongue stroked this specific patch of skin and made your whole body tingle with pleasure. 
You let out a shaky sigh, threading your fingers through his hair and relaxing against the pillows.
“Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.
“Never again,” he promises, voice husky in your ear.
His hand slides down the curve of your body, grasping at your thighs and slowly pushing your dress up. Your hips move, rutting in an attempt to spur him on. When his fingers finally find your core through your panties, you swear you see stars. He begins to rub your clit, circling it as he applies more and more pressure. 
His mouth continues on your neck, and you begin to whimper from the stimulus.
You’d nearly forgotten how good it feels to be touched by someone who knows you inside and out- by someone who cares about your pleasure more than he’s ever cared about his own.
“Jae,” you whimper, breathing heavily as he rubs your core. 
“Yes, baby?” His lips are gentle along your throat, and the feather-light touch almost teases you more than a rougher one would.
“Can we skip the foreplay? I need you.”
Jaehyun’s fingers stop on your clit, and he pushes himself up on an elbow, looking down at you with a quizzical set to his brow. “Skip the foreplay?” he repeats, letting out a scoff. “Baby, I’ve been thinking about what I’d do to you if you ever gave me a second chance for over two years. We’re not skipping the foreplay.”
“But-”
“Please don’t argue with me. Just let me have this. Just let me enjoy the body I’ve missed so much. I’ve missed your sounds, the way you react to my touch-” his fingers pick up their pace on your clit again, and you let out a whine, pushing toward him again. “See? You’re perfect. No matter how many memories of this I have, nothing compares to the real thing.”
When you’d been dating Jaehyun initially, he was - for lack of a better word - pretty vanilla. This dirty talk is new, and it makes your stomach erupt into butterflies. Your mind goes practically blank, lulled into a lusty trance by the musings of a man who’s clearly bewitched by you, body and soul.
When your gaze dips down to his hand between your thighs, you notice the way his cock is straining in his pants. “Can I…” you swallow thickly, “Can I touch you too?”
“Yeah.” His mouth returns to your throat, and he pushes your panties to the side, dragging his fingers through your soaked folds. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”
You mewl at his words, quickly fumbling with the button of his pants so you can push them down just far enough to take his cock out of his briefs. Jaehyun releases a low groan and it makes your pussy flutter as you begin to stroke him.
Your ex reacts by slipping his fingers into your core, two long digits going knuckle deep. He tests your walls, grazing your g-spot when he begins to lazily pump his hand, his palm firmly pressing to your clit.
A whimper of pleasure escapes you, and you can feel Jaehyun grin against your neck. “The prettiest sounds,” he muses. “How did you ever get this pretty?”
It’s a rhetorical question, and it makes you feel cock drunk and dumb, your chest pushing up against his own, looking for stimulus- your nipples are hard in your bralette, but you wish you were naked already, wish you could feel him better-
“Jae?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Can you take my dress off?”
Jaehyun pulls his hand away from your core, bringing his two wet fingers to your lips. He pushes them into your mouth, propping himself up so he can look down at you while you suck his digits clean. “I thought you’d never ask.”
You groan around his fingers, the act of sucking is turning you on more than you’d care to admit, but it ends too quickly as Jaehyun pulls his hand away.
He sits up, taking off his own shirt first. Then he reaches down to grab at the hem of your dress, slowly dragging it up your form. Jaehyun’s eyes take in each strip of newly exposed skin, and you can see the way his pupils have blown with interest.
You lift your shoulders off the bed, making it easier for him to tear the fabric off of you and toss it to the side. This leaves you in your bralette and panties, both of which you’re eager to have join your dress on the floor.
Jaehyun’s hand reaches out to cup your breast, his thumb smoothing over the pebbled nipple that’s pushing through the silky fabric. He squeezes you gently, forcing you to release a moan of pleasure. 
A moment later, he’s removing your panties, then your bra, fingers pinching at your newly exposed nipple.
Your hand, meanwhile, returns to his cock- only for Jaehyun to grab at your wrist, pulling you away.
You’re about to ask what’s wrong, but then Jaehyun turns your hand palm up, and he spits into the center of it, bringing it back to his cock. 
There’s no way that action should have been as sexy as it was- your core throbbing as you begin to stroke his rock-hard length. 
With one last lustful look at your body, Jaehyun settles over top of you again, his mouth seeking out your breasts while you pump his cock. The feeling of his tongue flicking against you has you crying out, pushing your chest toward his mouth. His teeth graze over your sensitive nipple and you respond by applying more pressure to his cock.
Jaehyun groans loudly, rutting his hips into your hand, which stills so you can allow him to fuck your palm. He continues to worship your breasts while his hips do most of the work, and you surrender yourself to the pleasurable scenario you’ve found yourself in.
“You know…” Jaehyun presses another kiss to your nipple, “I was going to ask you to sit on my face, but… it’s hard being this close to your pretty pussy and not just… slipping it in.”
“Yeah?” You guide his cock closer to your core, so that when he ruts his hips, the tip of his cock glides through your soaked folds. “Then just do it.”
“Here I was, saying not to skip the foreplay- but here I am, giving in to you like always.” 
Jaehyun releases a laugh, and it makes you giggle along with him, because it’s true. Jaehyun may have this sexy, devil-may-care attitude, but he’s always been a total simp for you. 
He was completely wrapped around your finger when you first met, and he’s completely wrapped around your finger now. It’s interesting how so much can change, and so little can change at the same time. 
“You just feel so good,” Jaehyun groans, thrusting again, the tip of his pretty pink flushed cock just slipping inside of you- 
“Fuck, Jae, please-” you push your chest up toward his face again, pumping his length, trying to guide him deeper-
He brings his mouth to your own, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss as he sheaths himself into your wet core.
You let out a low whine, wrapping your legs around his hips and releasing his cock in favor of grabbing his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.
“Fuck-” Jaehyun moans, staying still inside of you while your walls pulse around his shaft. “Missed this perfect pussy, baby.”
“Missed your perfect cock,” you retort, tangling your fingers in his soft hair and drawing him in for another kiss.
His tongue clashes against your own, his hands finding your hips so he can steady himself as he begins to rut into you. 
You love getting lost in him. You can feel your mind slipping away, your body giving into its primal instincts as Jaehyun makes love to you the way he has so many times before.
One of his hands finds your own, taking it from his shoulder and lacing your fingers above you, pressing you into the pillow. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, breathing heavily.
“There’s so much I’ve wanted to say,” Jaehyun admits.
“Then say it,” you urge him, cupping his cheek with your free hand.
He nuzzles against your palm, closing his eyes for a moment while he enjoys your touch. “I’ve missed everything about you. You’ve been on my mind every day for two years.”
Your heart aches.
“It’s more than just the sex, and you know it. I’ve missed holding you,” he squeezes your hand, “missed sleeping next to you. Missed late-night talks and grilled cheese. Missed your laugh and the way your eyes light up when you’re happy. Missed the way you cry at sad parts in movies-”
As he talks, the pace of his thrusts gets faster, and you find it harder and harder not to moan like a whore and interrupt his cute little speech about missing you. 
In fact, it’s hard to even keep your eyes open, but your gaze is caught in his own. Jaehyun’s staring into your soul, baring himself to you like a man who’s brought all his walls down. 
“I love you,” Jaehyun says gruffly, “I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for one single day. It’s you, and it’s always been you.”
Your stomach muscles clench at his admission, orgasm bubbling to the surface fast from the combination of his movements and his words.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he assures you, licking his lips. “Just rub your clit and let me feel your perfect pussy clench around me as you cum, that will be answer enough.”
With a loud whine, you throw your head back against the pillow, threading your free hand between your bodies. The first touch of your fingers on your clit has you throbbing already, and you release a gasp.
“That’s it, baby,” Jaehyun coos, lips finding your throat. “Just like that.”
“Jae-”
“I know, I know you’re close- must be pent up like me, right? We’re both going to cum way too fast, but that’s okay, we have all the time in the world to enjoy each other- the way I’m going to eat your perfect pussy for breakfast tomorrow morning-”
Your core pulses at the thought, and you rub your clit harder.
“Gonna let go for me, right, baby? I’m so close, want you to cum with me.”
“I’m there-” you tell him, shivering as he licks the sweet spot on your throat. ‘Fuck, Jae-”
“You want me to cum inside right? You’re still on the-”
“Cum inside,” you interrupt him. “God, fuck, please- need you to fill me up-”
Jaehyun groans, squeezing your hand again. His lips move from your neck to your mouth, and your tongues clash in a breathless, moan-filled frenzy, your orgasms just out of reach-
One more whimpered “please” out of you has Jaehyun moaning, his high crashing into him. You can feel him filling you up with his cum, and it triggers your own orgasm. A gasp escapes you, your sensitive nipples pressing against his chiseled chest-
You can feel him everywhere. He’s all-consuming. You completely let go, sounds uninhibited, pussy throbbing harder than it has in the past two years. 
Jaehyun fucks you through it, until you’re both sweaty, gasping messes. Then he collapses on top of you, giving your captured hand one last squeeze before adjusting. He rolls off of you just enough to tuck you close to his chest, hand finding your hair and beginning to pet you.
You can hear the racing of his heart as he catches his breath.
As you come down from your high, you feel a welling of emotion bubbling inside of you. You’re shocked when a tear rolls down your cheek, and you’re quick to brush it away. Jaehyun notices the movement and tilts his head to assess you.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” you sniffle. “I’m just…. I’m happy, and I missed you a lot.”
“Baby,” Jaehyun’s fingers draw pretty nothings on your back, “I promise I’m not going anywhere ever again.”
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☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I've been reading a lot of shorter smut fics recently, and after doing such a big kick-off in January, I wanted to try a shorter piece again, and challenge myself with a little angst :)
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🔮 preview. “Listen, I promised myself I wasn't going to cum in or on you tonight - you know, seeing as you’re my wife tomorrow and I don’t want to disrespect you - but since you’re begging for it,” Jaehyun slips the tip of his cock inside of you, only to pull away, “I guess I can settle for cumming on your ass, but only if we shower together after.”
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating champ Jae, pussy worship, fingering, 69, blow job, hand job, deep throating, gentle choking, begging, dirty talk, slight cum kink/mentions of exhibitionism,  finger sucking, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) baby. 
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 200
🌙 starring. Jaehyun x afab!Reader
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bonus
Since you got back with Jaehyun over a year ago, the two of you haven’t been separated for longer than twelve hours, but tomorrow is the day of your wedding, and there are certain traditions about the bride and groom staying apart- so here you are, cuddled on a couch in your hotel room, missing your fiance.
When your phone rings and Jaehyun’s pretty face shows up as the contact on your screen, you fumble over yourself to pause your movie and answer it. “Jae?”
“Hey, baby. What room are you in again?”
You think about it for a moment. You’d never actually told him where you’re staying in the hotel… “Why do you want to know?”
“Maybe I wanna send my fiance flowers before our wedding tomorrow.” 
God, why’s he so charming?
You give him your room number without a second thought, hanging up with an ‘I love you.’ 
Five minutes later, there’s a knock at the door, and you open it to find Jaehyun standing there with a massive dimpled grin on his face, and a vase of flowers in his hands. “Hi, baby.”
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lisired · 3 days
Text
dress code
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pairing: professor!yuta x student!reader
genre/warnings: smut, power imbalance, age gap, spanking, yuta likes fucking you in your skirts and hitting it from the back, don’t really think there’s much degradation or praise, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy)
summary: Nakamoto Yuta and his rings have caught your eye. In an effort to seduce your professor, you decide to take your best friend’s advice and change your wardrobe. You’re given an advantage when Yuta’s son asks you to tutor him, and it’s like Satan is handing you opportunities on a silver platter - but at what cost?
word count: 7.4k
a/n: ¾ of the Temptation series. feedback is appreciated!
“Who are you thinking about?”
You flinched when you heard a voice direct a question towards you. You turned to your side to see Ten, who instead of apologizing for startling you, leaned in curiously.
Nakamoto Yuta, you wanted to exhale dreamily. To say that you were besotted with your professor was an understatement. In class, you could hardly pay attention to his lectures, eyes too busy swallowing him whole.
Yuta was one of the most handsome men you had ever laid eyes on. His long ginger hair and gorgeous face structure immediately caught your attention, though after time you noticed more and more that he knew how to accessorize himself in a way that best suited his style.
The rings were a personal favorite example of yours - both the ones on his ears and the ones around his fingers. They came in abundance, never no less than two at a time. And not only did they complement his beauty, they were the fuel for some of your classroom day dreams.
“How do you know I’m thinking about someone?”
Ten rolled his eyes, though he wasn’t surprised by your response. It was very in-character of you to dodge the question. “Easy. Your face is in your palms and you were staring into empty space with a love-struck smile on your face. Plus you’re answering a question with a question. Now spill the beans before the lecture starts.”
You sighed, knowing you were caught. Then quickly changed your posture, earning a snicker from the man beside you. As one of your best friends, Ten knew you too well. And as of one of his best friends, you knew he loved drama and other people’s business way too much to be safe.
“If I tell you,” you began, reluctant. “You have to promise you won’t judge.”
Ten winced and said, “I only make promises I know I won’t break, love. And the fact that you’re telling me this alone is an indicator that I am definitely gonna be judging you. With love.”
“With love, my ass,” you groaned. “Whatever. Then, promise me you won’t rat me out.”
“Now, I’m no snitch. Your secret is mine, best friend. Scout’s honor.”
There came the urge to hesitate and hold your tongue, but you knew Ten would press until you eventually opened up. There was no way he would come out of the room empty-handed unless your secret was serious. In a way it was, but he wouldn’t see it as that.
“Fine,” you huffed. His eyes were firm on you and you could feel them, awaiting your answer patiently. You opened your mouth with a sigh and whispered, “Professor Nakamoto.”
Ten burst into a fit of laughter. Loud laughter that drew unwanted attention and stares from confused nearby students. He was red in the face with an arm around his stomach.
With narrowed eyes, you asked, “Are you done?”
Ten shook his head. He laughed some more until he finally calmed down, then finally managed to get a sentence out. “You’re trying to screw Shotaro’s dad? You’re unbelievable.”
“Not screw him,” you replied, then Ten gave you a look that made it clear he could tell that you were lying. “Fine, goddammit. I want him, and I need him to want me. Dunno how, though.”
Your best friend shrugged. “Showing some skin always seems to work. Men can’t resist their temptations.”
You narrowed your eyes. “You’re a man.”
“Which makes my advice more plausible,” Ten shot without hesitation.
Point made. If there was anything you wanted to say after that, the words died on your tongue. You nodded in response. “Touché.”
Even though you would never admit it to his face, it was good advice and you were having a epiphany. As Yuta strutted into the room and bid the class good morning, rings on his ears and fingers, an idea was born in your mind.
You knew how to complement your beauty as well.
As soon as the next day, your plan came into action. You wore shorts that barely covered your thighs and clung to your skin, pairing them with a full-length top to avoid raising suspicion.
Part of your plan was to start slow. Given it was nearly summer, you were offered some leeway and no one would second-guess your apparent change in wardrobe, but too much skin might have become a problem. It wasn’t that you never wore anything revealing, but something of this frequency and extent was typically out of the question for you.
Boys catcalled you in the halls. Unwelcomed attention, but it was a sign you were doing something right. The other sign - one of which you dreaded even more - was your best friend’s reaction as you walked to your seat.
“Holy shit. I see you listened to your best friend for once.”
“I always listen to you. Now shut the hell up, he’s coming,” you whispered, pretending to look as if you were preparing.
Class was typical which was fine, you expected no  prompt changes. Your plan would be a gradual progress and you knew slow and steady won the race.
As per usual, you soon became distracted by your professor and began to fantasize. Yuta had a dangerous habit of running his fingers through his locks of hair, which brought inevitable attention to his hands. And thus his rings. Which spurred on your imagination every time without fail.
You thought about Yuta fingering you with his rings on, the surface of the material cool against your clit. The thought made your thighs press together with a shudder. It was always hell to think about your teacher during class because you had no way of relieving yourself, but there was always material for when you got home. Apart from both enjoying and needing the class, that was another good reason to show up everyday.
Soon you sank into thought. Someone like him had to be experienced. For one, he was older. Yuta had never stated that he’d been around, but sometimes he stopped the class to talk about things he did when he was in his twenties - which made you wonder what else he’d done. Then, he was devilishly handsome and you knew for a fact you weren’t the only one who had a thing for him. Yuta was the professor your peers swooned over, you could only imagine how many women his age flocked towards him.
Class came to an end which was fortunate for you. It meant that you got to go home and handle the ache between your thighs. Everyone left without wasting time and you told Ten not to wait for you. He shot you a knowing smirk and told you that he’d seen you tomorrow.
Other than Yuta, you purposely made sure you would be the last one to leave, packing away your materials ever so slowly and pretending to fix your clothes. Yuta never left before anyone and you could feel his eyes burn through you.
“No plans today?” Yuta asked, voice booming throughout the near-empty room. “You’re usually one of the first people to run out the door - and you always sit on the opposite side.”
That’s because I rush home to take care of myself, you thought. Though there was no way you would say that aloud. Instead you swung your bag over your shoulders and moved a premeditated distance from your desk. From where he stood, your legs were on display.
“No, sir. Just homework,” you lied. Of course you had plans, plans that concerned him. None that you could tell him about, though.
Gaze hard on you, Yuta bobbed his head and replied, “I see. Don’t let me hold up one of my top students, then. Have a good night.”
One of his top students. It was impossible to hold in your grin when he said that. Although it was true he was a major distractor when it came to your learning, you’d be damned if you didn’t make it your mission to study hard and impress him. Apparently, it was working.
“Goodnight, sir,” you bid him. Then you made a break for the door. Those plans awaited you at home in your bedroom and you knew that you’d be busy for a while.
When Shotaro approached you, you were completely unexpecting and somewhat fearful of what he had to say.
For one, there was no reason for Osaki Shotaro of all people to be approaching you. Sure, you had your mutual friendships and classes, but you weren’t close by any means and the sole time you recalled having a one-on-one discussion with him was when you were assigned together.
There was no class today. He found you in your natural habitat, the on-campus Starbucks with your laptop on the table and your headphones around your head. You only slung your headphones down your neck when you noticed him sitting across from you.
“May I help you, Taro?” you asked, throwing him a confused glance.
Shotaro nodded, breaking into a smile that you couldn’t deny was attractive. However, you were far too attracted to his father to be affected by his charms. “I got a problem.”
Now you were utterly confused. “I’m no problem solver.”
“Oh I think you are. I could really fucking use a math tutor and Ten told me you’d be my safest option. Said you wouldn’t mind, especially if I paid you up. I’ve been slacking in that subject lately and I gotta get it together if I wanna stay on the team,” the boy told you, albeit somewhat abashedly.
Ten, you slick motherfucker, you thought graciously. The connection between the pair was that they were both on the school’s competitive dance team together. Ten had seriously hooked both you and Shotaro up. Math happened to be your specialty and Shotaro lived with Yuta, his father. Tutoring him at his place would grant you even more opportunities.
“Holy shit,” you winced.
Shotaro nodded discontently. “Yeah, it’s bad, I know. Look, if you’re not down or something it’s all good. I get we’re not that close so it might seem weird for me to come up on you out of the blue. I’ll pay you twenty an hour, though.”
“On second thought, maybe I am a problem-solver,” you replied, much to Shotaro’s amusement. Twenty per hour for tutoring didn’t sound too bad, and plus, there was the firm chance you’d see Yuta. You outstretched your hand and said, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
Shotaro shook your hand. “Alright, partner. When are you free?”
You told Shotaro your schedule and let him know you’d text him if you ever needed to take a rain check. He told you he’d follow the same procedure and you agreed to meet at his place for your first session on Friday. Satan was handing you opportunities on a silver platter.
When he left, you pulled out your phone and texted your best friend.
Thanks, you cunt, you messaged.
Ten replied back, Yeah, whatever. You owe me one.
That you did. But you were focused on bigger, larger things.
Nakamoto Yuta.
When Friday rolled around, you were beyond excited. Shotaro had warned you in advance that his father would be home and told you not to worry.
And you assured him that you didn’t mind. Little did he know, you were planning what you would wear the moment he let you know. It was a difficult choice. You wanted to wear something that would suit the heat though also not seem too much for a study session. In the end you settled for something simple yet revealing - a cute dress you found thrown away in the pits of your closet.
When you got to Shotaro’s house, Yuta welcomed you inside.
“Shotaro’s not here yet. He’ll be back soon. I apologize on his behalf for keeping you waiting,” Yuta said once you stepped inside and showed you to a spot on the couch.
You chirped politely, “It’s fine, sir. I don’t mind.”
He was quick to say, “We’re not on campus, you can drop the formalities. Call me Yuta.”
That made you blink in surprise, although you nodded nonetheless. It was definitely a step up the ladder and you hoped that you would soon be content. You didn’t want to just say it his name, you wanted him to make you scream it.
“The weather has been getting sunnier by the day, you’re probably thirsty,” Yuta figured, stepping into the kitchen. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Water, please.”
Yuta kindly brought you a glass of water and you spent the entire time attempting to subtly survey him. When he handed you the drink, you tried your best not to stare at his hands. It seemed as if he wore rings no matter the occasion and they only made his already beautiful hands look nicer.
Then, you peeped his outfit. And simultaneously realized you had never seen your professor outside of formal attire - up until now, at least. That wasn’t to say that you were complaining. Whatever Yuta chose to wear suited his appearance and you could tell he had an impeccable idea of what style fitted him.
“You should learn how to keep your eyes to yourself.”
You blinked in surprise. “Excuse me?”
“You’re too smart to be playing dumb,” Yuta said, sitting to your side. You noticeably gulped in response to how close he had gotten, and his lips curled with amusement. “You think I don’t notice you staring at me? You’re not subtle.”
In spite of the water you were drinking, your mouth began to feel dry. There was nothing you could fix your mouth to say. Not only had you been caught, but Yuta was implying that he had noticed long before now. With that much knowledge on his hands, it would be simple to piece together why you were checking your professor out at every given opportunity.
The little smirk on his lips alone was enough to convince you that he knew your every thought that ran rampant in your mind. There was no other reason you would be looking at your professor so hard - staring concentratedly at his hands and face - if you had no carnal desires. 
Acknowledging your speechless state, Yuta leaned in and slid his thumb under your chin, leaving you no choice but to meet his knife-like gaze. “Be good for me and maybe, just maybe I’ll think about giving you what you want.”
The front door knob began to jiggle yet Yuta took his time to pull away from you. He began to sip from his glass and you tried to quickly appear as if nothing had happened - as if your heart wasn’t racing and threatening to pop out your chest.
Shotaro burst through the door and headed straight for the kitchen, a single grocery bag in his hold. “Sorry I’m late. Summer is beating my ass so I went to get ice cream. You want some?”
Shotaro didn’t notice a damn thing.
You just hoped he wouldn’t notice the way his father was looking at you, the same way you could feel him staring into your back.
Over the course of the next couple of weeks, nothing had escalated but the decreasing length of your outfits and the thick tension between you and your professor. There were hardly moments where you were alone and whatever seclusion you did have was always short-lived.
In spite of it all, your plan was so far a success. The longing stares became more mutual and frequent than ever. You noticed that Yuta would unabashedly gaze at whatever bare skin was available to his vision, which came in abundance and less and less was left to imagination. There was no doubt that Yuta had noticed - you just wondered if he would eventually confront you about what was an obvious motive by now. After all, he had told you that he’d think about giving you what you wanted.
If you’re good for him, you recalled. In all honesty, you weren’t sure what that entailed. Between the line of good or bad, you weren’t sure where you teetered in his eyes.
But you hoped that you were good. You wanted to be good. For him. It meant everything that he saw you in the same way you did him, and now that you knew there was a chance you could achieve everything that you had only dreamed of, you were over the moon with thrill.
You wanted Nakmoto Yuta, and you were determined to have him.
Class was typical, as always. Again you were left behind, although not on purpose. A text from Shotaro hindered you.
The text read, Raincheck. I forgot I had practice today.
You texted him back swiftly and began to pack away your materials. But when you made an attempt to leave, Yuta’s voice grounded you in place. “Come here.”
At first you stood there, unable to move an inch. Though the commanding glint in his eyes made you feel as though you were under a spell, controlling you and making you walk forward, and you winded up in front of his desk.
“Yes, sir?” you said quietly.
Yuta shook his head. He said nothing, gesturing with his fingers for you to come closer. And you had no will to disobey him. Playing with the edges of your skirt, you turned behind his desk and made a noise of surprise when he abruptly pulled you onto his lap.
Exhilaration made your heart beat at an impossible pace. It thundered against its cage and made it’s presence known. As much as you had fantasized about your professor in such manner, you felt utterly unprepared for whatever plan ran through his brain. Yuta was inscrutable, that much manifested in the way he taught - unpredictable twists his lectures took that gave good reason for his class to be your favorite. Whatever he wanted to do to you was perfectly unclear, better yet how he would do it.
Yuta hooked one arm around your waist, his free hand leisurely stroking your thigh. He leaned into your ear and asked, “Any plans for today?”
Remembering that Shotaro had cancelled on you, you shook your head. Even if you did have plans, especially any immediate ones, they would have simply had to wait. There was something more significant on your hands.
Yuta hit your thigh and you bit back a whimper. “You have words, use them.”
“No, sir,” you told him, forcing out the words that felt clammed in your throat. He seemed satisfied, moving his fingers from your thigh to underneath your skirt. Suddenly, you were grateful of today’s outfit choice - it gave him easy access.
You gasped when you felt his fingers directly between your thighs. This was it - this was everything you had dreamed of. His rings brushed against you and made you shiver, cool to the touch just as you had imagined that they would be. Which made you wonder what else was up to par with your imagination. Curiosity filled you up to the damn brim and you were eager to know.
“You’re soaking,” Yuta commented, chuckling. “Were you thinking about me?”
That made you feel caught, though as usual, it would have been a bold-faced lie to say that you hadn’t spent the better half of the lecture imagining your professor doing unspeakable things to you. Whenever he was in close proximity of you, a moment rarely passed where you weren’t thinking of him. There was no limit. You couldn’t have enough of the man you craved most.
The thoughts hit you hard as soon as the question escaped from between his lips and Yuta knew he had his answer when he felt you clench around his fingers. The sound of him chuckling should have humiliated you, but your body responded with arousal. It was a blessing that your back was to his chest, eye contact would eat you alive.
“Yes, sir.”
“Thinking about me doing what?” He pressed, but the fact that he was still touching you, pushing his fingers inside made it hard to form any coherent thoughts or sentences. You wanted to focus on what he was doing to your body.
You took a deep breath and said, “Touching me, like this. I…, I always imagine you touching me with your rings on.”
“Mm, yeah?” Yuta hummed. “You wanna know what I think about?”
You muttered, “Yes.” Then, you braced yourself.
“Bending you over this desk and fucking you right in these little skirts you love wearing to seduce me.”
It was safe to say that Yuta had caught on to your shenanigans, but you didn’t care. There was no other thought on your mind except for him, and everything you wanted him to do to you.
“Please,” you whimpered.
Yuta feigned confusion. “Please, what?”
“Fuck me,” you begged. “Please fuck me, sir. I need you. Haven’t I been good?”
That was all it took for Yuta’s resolve to crumble, and in the blink of an eye, he had pushed you overneath his desk. The sound of his belt unbuckling made you tremble with anticipation. All of your patience had dissipated, and so had his. You needed each other.
Yuta pulled your panties to the side and you made a little noise when you felt the tip brush against you. “Ready?”
You gave him the go-ahead in a small voice that didn’t nearly uncover the entire extent of how much you wanted this. When Yuta finally pushed in, the relief you felt then was unimaginable. For so long you had wanted your professor, and now that you had him, it felt like a dream.
Impossible to miss, you noticed Yuta’s grunt when he slid inside you. That alone made you feel like you were soaring. His hands fell to your hips and his rings urged a cool sensation on the area of bare skin.
When you moaned, Yuta lifted one of his palms from your waist and hit your ass. “Unless you want everyone to hear you moaning like a slut, be a good girl and stay quiet.”
Easier said than done. There was too much pleasure involved, too much for you to be able to conceal. You bit your bottom lip, hoping it would do the job. It was the best that you could do to muffle your sounds.
And you weren’t the only one, either. Although Yuta was better at supressing noises, you couldn’t miss the sexy little grunts he made, his grip on your waist tightening with pleasure. It drove you near damn mad hearing him like that. The fact that he was so close to you did nothing to help. He was nearly in your ear, and you felt as if you could implode right then and there.
Without the presence of loud moans, the room was still far from silent. There was the lewd sound of Yuta’s hips rocking into yours each time he pushed back in, and thus your weight slamming against the desk with every thrust, and you loved it. There was something dangerously arousing about it and you were in no mind to care about how obvious you were. Nothing mattered to you in that moment except for Yuta. You wanted him to continue and not stop until you’d both finished.
“Fuck,” you moaned, unable to control yourself. “Harder, please.”
Yuta teased, “Can you handle it harder, baby?”
“Yes, sir,” you squeaked. “Please? I can take it, I can take it.”
Before you could add anything else, Yuta gave in and got rougher. There was no telling if it was real or all in your head, but you swore you could feel him deeper than ever before. His hips met yours hard, pushing deeply. His death grip on you became tighter, as if you would slip away from him if he didn’t hold you as tightly as possible. Every touch of his was practically bruising, just the way you wanted it to be.
This was something Yuta thought he could do all day. Watching you take him greedily was a massive turn on and he could see it becoming one of his favorite pastimes. He loved the way your pussy swallowed him whole. He loved the way you were still desperate for more no matter how much he gave you. The way you were so compliant and eager to please. It was something he could get used to.
“You’re doing so good,” Yuta sighed, voice tickling your neck.
His praise made your knees feel weak, yet so did the sound of his voice. It was like a two for one deal, twice the amount of butterflies swarming in your stomach. The only way things could have been better was if you could see his face, but you doubted you’d survive the moment you saw his expression as he let out a groan.
Yuta lifted his hand again and slipped it underneath your shirt, meddling with your bra and finding your breasts. He gave them a squeeze and you exhaled with pleasure, loving the way his hands felt on your body. You wanted to feel him everywhere you possibly could - no spot left untouched.
Hardly any thoughts roamed in your brain and you were stripped of every ability you possessed to think. All you knew was pleasure, and you wanted more of it. More of him. He was close to you - deep inside you - but not close enough. Never deep enough. To you, there was no existing maximum. There was no brink and only one word chanted in your head. More, more, more.
“Sir, I’m close,” you whimpered out.
Even without saying, every reaction your body made in response to his touch indicated that you were on the brink of an orgasm. You were clinching around Yuta and it became harder to muffle your noises, and you were sure that your lip was bleeding, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care yet.
It was so close you could almost reach out and grab it. The pleasure you felt then was inexplicable. It felt like all your senses had been heightened to an extreme, on an inhuman level. Your body was begging him, screaming for release, needing it desperately.
Needless to say, Yuta was no better than and not far behind you. His grunts seemingly became deeper, and his thrusts became irregular. But he never stopped - he wouldn’t stop until he was there with you, over the edge.
“Come with me, baby,” Yuta growled. He was fucking you like his life depend on it.
Whatever came next was a blur. Your orgasm struck you hard, clouding your vision with white haze, and you clinched around Yuta uncontrollably. The noises that escaped your lips were unpreventable, especially when you felt his cum spill inside your walls. Your body became slug against the desk and when you snapped out of your post-orgasm headspace, you noticed your professor slow and pull out of you.
When you stood back up, you felt his cum leaking from you and trickling down your thighs, and your cheeks grew hot.
Yuta snickered and buckled his pants back up. “How do you feel?”
There was no word to describe how you felt and you were still in a state of pleasant shock. Your thighs began to feel ache from the pressure he’d inflicted on you, but you weren’t complaining. This was the highlight of your day.
“Good,” you replied, straightening out your skirt with your palms. “Sore, but good.”
He smiled wryly. “When do you tutor Taro again?”
“Thursday. He said he would meet me at your house after practice.”
“Good. Come early.”
“How early?”
“However long you can handle getting fucked,” Yuta said with a shrug.
The butterflies were back. Unable to say anything, you gave him a quick nod and prepared to leave, after you cleaned yourself up.
Who would have known that instead of going home to take care of your arousal after class, Yuta would handle it for you. And Thursday you got to do it all over again.
You couldn’t fucking wait.
Part of you wanted to run, but when you rang the doorbell, you knew that it was too late. There was nowhere to hide anymore - Yuta would be coming any moment now.
You were a hot mess of emotions, bursting at the seams with exhilaration and nerves. Of course, there was no doubt in your body that you wanted to relive having sex with your professor. It was everything you had dreamed of and more. Although you also couldn’t deny that you were worried for a billion different reasons.
Relax, you told yourself. You had no reason to worry. There was no way that anyone would find out, Shotaro was utterly clueless and although Ten was certainly aware, you knew there was no way in hell he’d tell a soul. Plus, you looked nothing short of fuckable. With how short your skirt was, Yuta would be unable to change his mind even if he wanted to.
The door swung open and revealed Yuta, who already had his eyes on your body. Without much greeting, he pulled you inside and locked the door behind you.
You squealed while he dragged you into his bedroom, impatience seeping from his calm demeanor. When he let you loose, you stood by bed rubbing your wrist while he shut the door. You complained, “What happened to greeting people?”
“Hello,” he said, walking over to you. He reached for your hand and gave your wrist a quick kiss, then added, “Now lie down for me.”
Without hesitation, you did as told, climbing onto his bed and sprawling yourself out on his mattress. You kicked off your shoes and Yuta crawled between your legs, watching you instinctively spread your legs open for him.
“Black,” Yuta growled once he noticed the color of your panties. “That’s my favorite color.”
There was no way you were strong enough for this.
Yuta tugged your panties past your ankles and tossed them on the floor in haste, starving for you and begging to know how you tasted. His mouth was on you without warning and you sucked in a deep breath the moment you felt his tongue.
To say the least, Yuta didn’t relent. His mouth was impatient, tongue making you pulse more than you already were. It ventured over you, and you cried out, thighs squeezing shut when the muscle prodded at your clit. But Yuta was completely unwilling to be deterred. He pushed your thighs back open and held them spread, and you could feel the cool sensation of his rings digging into your skin yet again.
Moans of his name tore past your lips, urging him on. Yuta took it as sheer motivation, actions unfaltering and seeming to strengthen. You could feel the corners of his lips lift in a grin. It was an ego boost seeing you grip sheets and hearing you moaning his name shamelessly loud.
Wet sounds grew louder. Yuta’s grip on you only became tighter whenever you began to squirm from the pleasure. There was no doubt in your mind that Yuta wad experienced. For as long as your body had yearned for him, no doubt had ever been present, though now that his head was between your thighs and his mouth was anything but shy of your cunt, you could tell.
“Yuta, fuck,” you cried, back in arch. “Don’t stop, please. Please don’t stop.”
Yuta raised a brow, wondering where you had gotten such an idea from. The thought of stopping had never once crossed his mind. He knew what he wanted, he knew what you wanted, and it wasn’t that. He was determined to leave you broken.
It was like nothing that you had ever felt before. People had been between your thighs a number of times before, but something about Yuta was different. There was no way for you to put your finger on it in your current state, but whatever he was doing with his tongue was making you want to scream. You knew then the pleasure he was providing you was unreplicable.
Maybe you knew that the moment you set your eyes on your professor. There was a reason you were drawn to him, wanting him in ways that were illicit. Everything about Yuta had tempted to you, head to toe. In and out. The time between then and now was unbearable. Though you made efforts to distract yourself from the man you thought to be unattainable, no one ever met your standards. And you were completely unable to commit when Yuta was the one in your head. You needed him, or someone like him.
And though you sought for the latter, you were undone.
Nothing could describe how you felt in the moment other than delirious. You were beginning to believe that Yuta had been yours in a past life, that there was no other explanation as to how he seemed perfectly aware of what to do. Then, you thought that somehow, in spite of him being your professor and the father of one of your peers, you were meant to be. It might have been crazy, but that was how you felt.
And Yuta, you drove Yuta crazy. Which felt like an understatement - everything about you made him feel insane to his core. But he couldn’t say that he didn’t like it, or that he was opposed to the feeling. The same way you were tempted by him, he was by you, and he liked having you in the most delicate of ways.
There was no way you would have known, that was if his body said nothing, but he was hooked on you. Just as much as you were hooked on him, if not even more. It wasn’t because he was lonely after his divorce and needed to chew on anything that he could bite, which was simply untrue. Anyone he wanted, man or woman, Yuta knew how to woo his way to them. Though he didn’t want you out of desperacy, he wanted you because of the way you made him feel.
That much he was still in the phase of figuring out, but he knew that it was welcome. That was all that mattered.
“Yuta, I’m so close,” you groaned, entire body begging for release.
Those four words let out a beast in Yuta. It was like he wanted to ravage you, and you found that likely to be the case. Already had he been unfaltering, but it was clear that his efforts were increasing. He wanted to bring you over the edge and he would do exactly that.
“Cum for me,” he said, detaching his mouth from you for the briefest of moments. He let his fingers occupy you while it separated. “You know you want to. Let go for me, baby girl.”
As always, you obeyed. With his mouth on your clit, there was no way that even if you wanted to, you could instruct your body to do otherwise. You let your body be overcome by pleasure, your back in an arch as your orgasm hit. You let out a lewd moan of his name, toes clenching, and Yuta let you hold - much more squeeze - his hand.
It was intense, and Yuta didn’t stop until you had finally gone slack against his mattress. When he pulled away, he could only let the beautiful sight of you fill his eyes. You laid weakly on his bed, chest heaving in result of your climax. Everything about you then screamed fucked out, and he could only look smugly at his achievement.
Watching you made him want to keep going and eat you out little longer, test how much you could handle, but it also made him hard. There was only so long that he could go resisting the urge to fuck you limp and his restraint had dissipated.
“I’m not done with you yet,” Yuta growled, and moved towards you.
All you could see in his eyes was hunger. And when he leaned in and kissed you, it was even hungrier. It was rough and impatient, as if he had been waiting for this moment his whole life.
You reciprocated, kissing him back with the same passionate and letting the heat in the room consume you whole. Yuta’s hands were greedy, clawing at both of your clothes and towing them above your heads. Whatever amount you wanted him he was sure he wanted you more, and he wasn’t ashamed to show you.
Yuta pulled apart from your lips and when you met his gaze, you knew exactly what it was that he wanted. He licked his lips at the sight of you and said, “Hands and knees.”
In an instant, you shifted your body, wiggling your hips in an attempt to make him move faster. You were stripped down to nothing but your skirt, something you realized early on he had a thing for. With how perfectly presented you were, there was no reason why he wasn’t fucking you yet.
The anticipation was killing you slowly. Yuta seemed tempted to start right then, but something delayed him. He reached for something on the bed and slipped a pillow underneath your elbows, a gesture that made your aching desire for him skyrocket.
“Fuck me, Yuta, please,” you begged. “I need to feel you.”
When you felt the head of his dick poke your entrance, you let out a sigh. You were so wet that Yuta slipped in with ease, letting out a grunt when he felt how warm and tight you were around his dick. His rings dug into your skin as his hands clung to your waist.
He begun with leisure strokes to let you accommodate his size, only becoming less shallow the more he thrusted. It was only your second time with him, but you already had a feeling that you’d never get to used to the one of how deeply he stretched you out. Yuta reached places you were unaware of existing.
“I want you,” he groaned. As if you weren’t already at his disposal. Those three words alone had you wrapped around his finger.
Breath hitching, you replied, “You have me. I’m yours - use me.”
Whatever amount of mercy he was trying to spare onto you quickly ceased once those words left your mouth, and Yuta picked up his pace, beginning to fuck you hard. You emit a moan and let him have his way with your body. After your previous encounter, he knew that you liked it rough. Your face was being dug into one of the pillows yet you had no complaints.
Neither did he. Yuta found himself admiring how you took him and the way you felt around him yet again. A welcome mixture of tight, wet, and warm that made fucking you feel like a treat. If you wanted him to use you then he was more than willing to do so.
And there was something about it being you that he was fucking that made the experience like nothing else. He was too attracted to you. As much as you thought about him, he could guarantee he thought about you all the same. In several ways, fantasizing about you in countless positions. But he was going to take his time with you. Knowing you, you weren’t one to shy away from your desires - rather cave in to them - and if he was what you wanted, then you would let him have you. Whatever he wanted, he knew you would provide the best way you knew how.
It wasn’t a one-sided thing. The more time Yuta spent around you, the more fond of you he became. He knew you would bend over backwards, forwards, and every way in between for him, and it was mutual. He was tempted to give you the world.
After all, you were the subject of his dreams. He was crazy about you, and he wouldn’t change a damn thing.
Something was bothering you. It felt good, having him like this, but there was something that you were craving. And you quickly realized that it was the urge to see Yuta’s face. You wanted to see every scrunch of his face, every falter in his expression. You wanted to see his eyes shut and watch how his lips parted as he groaned your name. You wanted to see it all - every minor detail, every fleeting face he made. That was what you desired more than anything.
You tilted your face, just so that the pillow wouldn’t muffle your sounds and called in a moan-y voice, “Yuta…,”
“Mm, baby?” Yuta answered, continuing to rock his hips into yours.
“I wanna - I wanna see your face,” you stammered, hardly able to get words out with how amazingly he was fucking you. He was enjoying the effect he had on you, needlessly to say. “Can I please see your face?”
It was impossible to tell you no. Yuta wanted to give you the world, after all. He would sacrifice his adoration for hitting you from the back if that was what it took to satisfy you. He held distaste for your muffle sounds and not being able to see the mess he was making on your own pretty face anyways.
“Whatever you want, baby girl.”
Yuta flipped you over so that you were lying on your stomach, then entered back inside you with haste. When you finally caught a glimpse of his face, sweat made his hair cling to his face and beads of it damped his skin. It was a beautiful sight you were grateful to witness.
In return, Yuta adored the fucked out daze you casted him. There was nothing he loved more than seeing you like that, in a state of evident pleasure as a result of everything he was doing to your body. He fucking loved it.
You wrapped your legs around his back, desperate to feel him deeper. Yuta only chuckled at the gesture, finding it both hot and amusing that you were so needy for him. It was typical of you to want to feel him to the extreme, you simply couldn’t have enough of him.
“Sir,” you moaned. There were no words to explain how you felt right now.
Yuta slowed his thrust and grabbed your chin, forcing eye contact. “What’s my name?”
Wide-eyed, you stammered, “Y-Yuta.”
“Say it again.”
“Yuta!” you exclaimed, moving your hips in attempts to feel his previous pace. “Yuta, Yuta.”
Yuta grinned smugly, but picked up the pace of his thrusts and said, “And I’ll make sure you don’t forget it.”
Yuta brought his hand to your clit and began rubbing you there, watching how your body responded to his touches. You began to squirm and true to his word, made you cry out his name. You felt like you were on fire, heat consuming you whole, but you wanted it all to spread. It felt too good, Yuta’s thrusts and his hands and rings on the very surface of your skin skin.
“Oh, god,” you whimpered. You needed release, you were chasing after it. It was so close, and Yuta could tell.
“How bad do you wanna cum?” Yuta asked you, growling into your ear.
“So bad. I need it. I need it, Yuta. Please,” you begged. With the sexy sounds he was making you weren’t sure you would be able to delay your orgasm any longer.
Satisfied, Yuta bobbed his head and purred, “Give it to me then, baby.”
The moment you approached your climax, Yuta gave you his hand again and you gripped it fiercely as you emitted a loud, crying string of his name. Your whole body shook with orgasm, toes clenching and your eyes closing shut as it washed over you. Yuta came inside you with a grunt, rings digging into your flesh as he held you and filled you up to the brim. When you both finally finished, you laid on his mattress, catching your breath, and he pulled out.
Yuta tilted his head and asked, “Feel good?”
“Feel great,” you chirped, smiling lazily.
He bobbed his head, smiling back and said, “You didn’t forget what I said, did you? I hope you’re not tired.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, ask if to ask him - Why? The smug look on his face added up to your confusion, and you felt like there was something you were missing.
“Baby, you came here two hours hourly. That’s how long you’re getting fucked.”
Realization creeped upon you, and you recalled the exchange you had back in his classroom. Oh, boy, you thought. He was going to ruin you.
And in all honesty, you were fine with that.
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hajunzi · 1 day
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YALL I WANT SOOBIN IN ME SO BAD. I JUST KNOW HE’S BIG AS FUCK..
ALSO I DONT THINK IVE EVER MENTIONED JUST HOW SMALL I AM.. IM LIKE 4’10-4’11 AND FLAT CHESTED (I do have nipple piercings cus they’re hot and they kinda make up for me having no boobs) BUT I KINDA HAVE AN ASS AND IN MY OPINION SOOBIN IS MORE OF AN ASS GUY SO I STILL QUALIFY.. BUT SOOBIN IS LIKE 6’3 AND HE HAS AT LEAST 7 INCHES MAYBE MORE…
ANYWAY IM SO SHORT COMPARED TO HIM AND THAT MAKES IT BETTER. CUS I AM A FIRM BELIEVER OF SOOBIN WITH A SIZE KINK AND I FEEL LIKE HE WOULD WANT A SMALL/SHORT GIRL HE CAN TOSS AROUND..
AND I HATE TO BREAK IT TO YOU BUT ITS ME, IM THE GIRL.. HE COULD TOSS ME AROUND ALL HE WANTS ILL DO ANYTHING I DONT CARE.. I JUST WANNA CHOKE ON HIS COCK IM GONNA GO FUCKING FERRAL..
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crdteezv · 3 days
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Back 2 You - Hendery
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Paring: !childhood best friends/roommates to lovers to exes to lovers again! hendery x afab! reader
Genre:  college au in the beginning, non-idol au, HEAVY ANGST & smut 
Synopsis: You grew up with Hendery and have been best friends with him ever since you were little. But as you both got older, things started to become more complicated. After all that has happened, can you ever bring yourself to trust and forgive him…
Warnings: !fuckboy! hendery,  HEAVY TOXICIXY, cheating(he did it tho…), lots of arguing, heavy alcohol use (he is lowkey an alcoholic…), SLIGHT domestic violence (only happened once), the reader lowkey a perv in the beginning, dirty talk, teasing, kissing, fingering, choking (receiving), oral (giving/receiving), throat fucking, manhandling, use of sex toys, heavy degradation, rough sex, slight humiliation, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex
Word Count: ~11k words (officially the longest I ever wrote I genuinely don't know how this happened...)
A/n: I hope you enjoy this because it's one of the first fics that's very story-driven. This one is not for the faint of heart so if any of the warnings trigger you, you shouldn’t read this fic! 
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Growing up, you used to be next-door neighbors with Hendery. Ever since you were little, you were really close with all his sisters. Both of your parents would have you guys hang out with each other all the time. You'd practically be at their house every weekend. He never had a brother, so he was always stuck playing alone with his action figures.
One day, you left his sisters for a little bit to go play with him, and since then, you've been closer to him, hanging out with him all the time, up until high school. People started assuming that the two of you were dating, which caused a lot of conflict in your friendship. He didn't care, and you weren't sure why it mattered so much to you. You knew that you just weren't ready to tell him you liked him. You started to develop feelings for him and didn’t want to come to terms with it. So, you distanced yourself, but Hendery, being Hendery, would constantly bother you and just wouldn’t leave you alone.
Eventually, you have gotten over everything in senior year and go back to being good friends again. The feelings you once had for him suddenly just went away.
That was until the two of you became roommates after high school.
You both used to joke about how you always wanted to live together when you were kids, but you actually made it happen. That summer after high school, you both worked hard and eventually rented an apartment together. No one in your family questioned it since they knew that your relationship was completely platonic and didn’t see each other in a romantic way at all.
Now, you were both juniors in college and were loving it, especially Hendery. Ever since you both started college, he would attract so many girls and was pretty much the life of any and all parties.
Parties weren’t really your scene, but you would go to them every once in a while. Every time you went out with him, it was like you would see a different side of him. When he is around you, he is always so calm, but when he goes out to party, he gets sloppy drunk and tries to hook up with every girl he sees. It was getting overwhelming for you having to always drag his ass back home and be the one to apologize for him after any messes he made. You practically became his caretaker always having to help him sober up after the party. So, you just stopped going to parties with him altogether. It just got worse as time went on; he would start coming home late at 4 or 5 am, and you knew that meant he was probably with some girl. Deep down, a part of you would get almost annoyed and irritated when he was out with someone this late.
Almost as if you felt jealous, maybe?
This was all put to the test when one night Hendery was getting ready to go on a date with a girl. He was asking you for advice on what to wear and how to act. You were just sitting idly by on the couch, reading a book. You heard him call out your name and walk into the living room. It seemed he had just hopped out of the shower because he had his towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still wet, and you could see the water droplets slowly drip down onto his body. You even looked down for just a second and discovered that he had a new grown happy trail.
Why was he so attractive?
But him being shirtless didn’t make things feel awkward between the two of you because you guys were so close to each other; it didn’t even matter. Plus, whenever he was home, he was shirtless the majority of the time, so this didn’t faze him.
“Okay, so which shirt should I wear for the date? This pink one or the green one?”
He presented you with two different colors of dress shirts, and you pointed at the pink one since you thought that would suit him better. He smiled at you and walked back into his room, and you heard the door shut. You covered your face with your hands, trying to compose yourself. Tonight was a big night for Hendery because this would be his first serious date, and you felt bad for feeling this way about him. 
To be fair, you never really had much dating experience. You only dated one guy in high school, and it wasn't even a serious relationship. These days, you didn’t know why, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Hendery. Even when you pleasured yourself, sometimes he would come into your mind. You felt guilty perceiving him in such a perverted light. He was your best friend, and all you could think about was him fucking you.
It’s been 15 minutes, and he finally got out of his room, and you saw Hendery all dressed up in formal attire.
“Wow, you look fancy. Where do you plan on taking her?” You said enthusiastically.
“Oh, I’m taking her to a nice high-class restaurant that’s on the outskirts of town.”
In a sarcastic tone, you replied, “Oh, that's nice.”
He could clearly tell that you were upset with him for something. He knew you acted passive-aggressive when you were mad at him.
“Okay, tell me what is it now?” You gave him a confused look and didn’t understand what he was asking.
“Come on, it’s obvious I did something wrong this time. You only act like this when your mad at me.”
You rolled your eyes and said, "For the past month, you've been coming back home drunk and loud, making it impossible for me to sleep. I'm always the one who has to help you sober up, and it's just getting exhausting for me to clean up after you all the time."
“What? I don’t come home late every night—”
"Hendery, for the past three weeks, you've been coming home smelling like alcohol at 4 am. You're probably going to do the same thing again tonight—"
“Excuse me?” You could tell that he was starting to get annoyed, and you probably shouldn’t get on his bad side now. You got up off the couch and made your way over to him.
“Oh, you heard me the first time.”
“Okay, look, I think I seriously like this girl, and I wanted things to be different with her, and—”
“Let’s just be honest here, you don’t care about her, and you're just doing all this to get into her pants. You’re just going to have a couple of drinks with her and then come back home and expect me to pick up all the pieces for you—”
You walked closer to him, and you were face to face with him. You poked his shoulder to bother him and said in a serious tone, 
“The only thing that’s on your mind all the time is sex. You could never be in a serious relationship with anyone.”
The tension in the room was thick, and it fell silent for a second. This was the first time you had said something so harsh to him. You could feel that he was about to snap. He grabbed your hand and stopped you from poking him. The look in his eyes almost made your knees buckle out of fear.
"Take back what you said," he demanded, squeezing your hand even harder, the pain becoming increasingly unbearable for you.
“Hendery, stop it, you’re starting to hurt me—” You began to protest, but he continued to advance, causing you to retreat until you were backed against the couch with nowhere else to go.
“I won’t stop until you take back what you said,” he insisted, his grip tightening even further.
He had completely lost control now.
With some effort, you managed to free your hand from his grasp and push him away from you.
“What’s your problem? Were you actually trying to hurt me?” you exclaimed.
“No, but I don’t appreciate you basically calling me a whore and claiming that I can’t be serious with someone—” he shot back, his irritation evident.
“Because you literally CAN’T,” he continued, walking back towards you and crossing his arms, giving you an annoyed look.
“How do you know that I can’t actually be with somebody?” he challenged.
“Are you kidding me? Every other night, you come home late after fucking some random girl you met at a party. You brag to me all the time about the girls you sleep with, and I’m getting sick of it.”
“Oh, come on, sweetheart, you’re just jealous and you wish you were one of the girls that I fuck every night,” he taunted, his tone dripping with condescension.
Your rage began to boil over at the audacity of this man. Not only was he undermining your feelings on this situation, but he was also claiming that you were jealous. 
 You were at your breaking point.
“I know you did not just say that,” you retorted, your voice laced with disgust and attitude.
He looked at you with a cocky smirk, as if this whole situation was amusing to him. He drew closer until he was face to face with you, then knelt down and whispered in your ear, 
"You're just jealous, sweetie. You wish instead of me being out all the time, I was the one with you. Don't think I don't hear you moan my name sometimes when you're all pent up. These walls aren't as thick as you think they are."
Your body froze for a moment, unable to move a muscle. So all those times you were getting off, Hendery had heard every little thing. Little did you know, he would sometimes get off to the sound of your moans, but of course, he wouldn't tell you. You began to squeeze your thighs to alleviate the stress of the situation, but he beat you to it and placed his thighs in between yours. He lifted your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him.
“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now, love. Just a second ago, you couldn’t stop bitching and complaining, and now you're completely silent—” His grip on your chin tightened,
 “How pathetic.”
It was as if his whole demeanor had shifted from before. Earlier, he was happy and ready to go out on his date, and now he was almost scaring you. 
You were in such a state of shock that you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him. It was as if he was a completely different person now, and you were terrified of him. He started to lower his hand from your chin down onto your throat, slowly choking you. As he watched tears start to pour down your face, he almost seemed to enjoy this.
You decided enough was enough and started to speak to him. “Stop it. You’re hurting me again—”
“Oh, you want to talk now?” he said in a playful manner.
You nodded your head, and he let go of your throat, leaving you coughing and gasping for air.
“Look, I don’t know what has gotten into you tonight, but I’m going to need you to apologize.”
“And what if I don’t?”
You looked at him with such anger and said, “Then I’m going to have to kick your ass out of here. I have no room to tolerate your bullshit anymore.”
He knew you were serious, and that he should just stop acting like this. But there was a part of him that liked seeing you in this state. He would always piss you off growing up, and some things just never change.
“Fine, I’ll back off… if you admit that you want me.”
Oh, he is just crazy.
Not only does he lack empathy for how hurt you may feel right now, he has to be so entitled even in a time like this.
“NO, I don’t want you and I don’t need you. Not now or ever.”
He just leaned back against the wall and gave you that same smirk from before. 
“Oh really? Then why do I always hear you moan my name? It seems to me that you want me—”
He approaches you again, but this time you tripped and fell back onto the couch and now you’re looking up at him. Before you can get up, he pins both of your hands down.
“And it seems that you need me now more than ever, don’t you, sweetheart?”
You felt yourself wanting to give in, and it was getting harder to control yourself. He has such a way with words, you were starting to forget why you were even arguing with him in the first place. He practically manipulated you, and you played right into his hands.
A part of you didn’t care.
“Fine, I will admit I might need you just a little bit—”
You were cut off by him as he leaned down to kiss you. You began to make out and started to feel the tension between you guys start to disappear. You both passionately make out, and he lets go of your wrists, and you wrap your arms around his neck. You felt connected in this moment and didn't want to let go of each other.
“Mhm, I’m glad you’re finally admitting it. I knew it was a matter of time before—”
You don’t let him finish talking; you push him off of you and switch positions, shoving him down on the couch. Now you’re on top, straddling him, and he was a little shocked by your sudden act of boldness.
“If this is going to work, I’m going to need you to be quiet for me—”
You slowly unzip his pants and take out his cock from his boxers.
“You talk too much.”
Something about you being so stern was making him even more aroused. He nods his head, and you begin to stroke him with your hand. You pump up and down his shaft, and he is grunting and moaning for you.
You decide to take a step further and lower your mouth onto him. He throws his head back from pleasure and loves feeling the warmth and wetness of your mouth. You begin to bob your head up and down as you see him loving every second of this. You even used both of your hands to stroke him at the base simultaneously.
 The moment is ruined when Hendery gets a phone call from the girl he was supposed to go on a date with. That doesn’t stop you, however, and you just keep on going as usual.
“F-fuck can you slow down-”
You were taken aback as he shoved you all the way down to the base of his cock, holding you in place to answer the phone call as if nothing was happening.
“Hey, I know this is last minute but—”
You somehow managed to start moving again, causing him to squirm and find it hard to speak coherently.
“Oh, I-I’m fine. I’m just a little h-held up with something, and I have to canc—”
You started moving faster, getting back into the rhythm from before, causing him to bite his lip and throw his head back. He was starting to lose his mind.
“F-fuck… I MEAN, I’m sorry, I have to cancel, and I’ll call you later, alright, bye.”
He hung up instantly and grabbed your head with both of his hands, and face fuck you. You began to gag as your throat closed up around him. You felt that he is starting to get close because his dick started to pulse and twitch in your mouth.
“Mhm, I can’t h-hold it in anymore—”
He instantly came, his release pouring into your mouth. Without wasting a drop, you swallowed it all. You felt dizzy after all that had just happened. You could’ve been caught, but you wanted to make Hendery suffer so much that it didn’t matter. You found yourself drifting as you tried to fall back onto the couch, but he switched positions, leaving you underneath him again, your face down and your ass up in the air.
“Oh, princess, we’re not done just yet. There’s still another hole of yours I want to fill.”
Goosebumps coursed throughout your body, and you were too stunned to say anything as you watched him start to take off the tie he had on and use it to tie up your wrists.
“Ah, this will be a nice handle for me to use to fuck you. Just how I could use these too—”
He gave your ass a hard smack and then roughly grabbed your waist with both of his hands.
“God, you look so pretty to me. I can already see a wet spot forming in your leggings, sweetie.”
He began to remove your leggings and panties, pushing them down to your ankles, leaving you with just one of your oversized shirts on, without a bra. Since you were at home, you didn't feel the need to wear one.
You felt Hendery start to slowly feel all over your body, groping your tits. He had lifted his hand under your shirt and began to give them a light squeeze. You let out a little whimper and started to squirm for him. He didn't like that and gave your ass another smack.
“Stay still for me, baby.”
“Mhm, I-I don’t know if I can—”
He started to twist your nipples and slowly kiss on the back of your neck. He knew exactly what he was doing and knew where all your sensitive spots were. You started to moan out for him, which just made him hard for you. He couldn’t take it anymore and stopped what he was doing altogether, positioning himself into you. You felt him rub the head all over your wet entrance, and then he shoved himself deep into you, eliciting a scream of pleasure out of you.
He began to penetrate with slow and deep strokes, gripping your tied-up wrists for support and balance. He felt that he could lose himself in you and he wanted to take things slow. But now that he felt you wrapped around him, it drove him crazy.
He didn’t know how long he could keep this up and started to lose control. You did too as you frantically started to fuck yourself roughly back onto him. You were lost in your own world and didn’t care about anything but Hendery right now. He let you do all the work for a second, even lifting his hands off you. He was enjoying the view of you being so desperate for him that you were almost using him to get off for your pleasure. This is just how you would masturbate to the thought of him on those late nights, and now you were fucking him.
But enough was enough, and he wanted to wrap all of this up.
He grabbed your wrist again and started to pound you into the couch at a rougher pace. You screamed out for him to slow down, but he was now ignoring you, using you now for his satisfaction. He was so consumed by all the lust that he didn’t care if you were satisfied or not. Then he remembered that you’re not some random girl that he would hook up with and that you mean more to him than that.
“Okay, love, I want you to come with me, alright? I don’t think I’m going to last very long here.”
He didn’t have to tell you twice. You both went at each other at a fast pace, and he finished inside you while you came alongside him. It was so much that he had to spray the rest all over your ass. Before you could say anything, you felt the couch start to shake a little, leading to it breaking.
“Oh no… did we just—”
“Oh, relax, sweetie. This couch was getting old anyway. We can just get a new one.”
You both laughed it off, and he laid you on top of his chest for a minute. Eventually, he got up and gave you a washcloth to clean you up. He even went to the fridge to get your favorite ice cream. You felt comforted to know that he does all this because he cares about you.
It made you wonder if he treats all the other girls like this.
“Hey, look, I want to say sorry for being such a jerk towards you tonight, and I wasn’t going to take her out—”
“WHAT? SO YOU LIED TO ME?”
“Oh, well… if you put it that way, then yeah, I lied. But I only did this to test you. I knew if I confronted you about your feelings for me—”
“Wait, you did all this because you think I like you?”
He was a little taken aback by your question. Did he read the situation wrong this whole time?
“I-I mean, yeah. I see the way you always look at me ever since we were growing up. Especially in high school, you just couldn’t keep your pretty little eyes off of me, even when you distanced yourself from me.”
“Oh, that’s so not true—”
“Then why can’t you look me in the eye right now? You only do that when you lie or if you’re extremely nervous. It seems like you’re both of those things right now.”
God, you forget that at the end of the day, he is your best friend and he knows everything about you. He can read you like a book.
“OK FINE! I admit I always had a crush on you. It’s just I was afraid that it would just get in the way of our friendship. So in high school, I stopped hanging out with as much  to try to get over my feelings for you.”
He was still a little surprised by all the things you were saying. You were finally confessing your feelings for him, but he didn’t know that you felt this strongly for him. He couldn’t begin to understand why you felt this way about him out of all people.
“Now my feelings came back for you since we started being roommates. I thought I would be fine, but sometimes seeing you come out of the shower and even walk around in just some sweatpants really gets to me. I—”
He stopped your rambling love confession with a passionate kiss. It felt sincere and comforting all at the same time. He placed one of his hands on the side of your cheek and lightly caressed it with his thumb.
“Look, I fully understand how you feel about me, and I like you too. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was hoping that hooking up with other people would distract my feelings towards you, but it hasn’t been helping. I sometimes imagine the girl I’m with is you—”
“WHAT? You’re such a pervert, you know that?”
"Says the one who secretly watches and gets off to the thought of me," he retorted.
“You know what? Touche. I guess we’re both crazy about each other. I’m just glad to hear you like me too. I genuinely didn’t know you felt this way about me.”
“Yeah, I’ve always known. All my sisters would do is tease me about it. They always tell me just to tell you, but I was always scared you didn’t see me in that way.”
You gave him a kiss on the cheek and smiled back at him. “Of course, I see you in that way. But what about the girl you were supposed to go on a date with?”
“Oh, I actually was never going to go through with that date with her anyway. I planned on flaking on her since I assumed this was going to happen—”
“Wait, how did you know this was going to happen?”
“Oh, please. It was a matter of time before you fell for my amazing charm,” he said playfully.
You rolled your eyes and gave him a light punch on his arm. He acted like it hurt and said, “Ow, what was that for?”
“For being too cocky. Also, you're evil for using that girl to try and get to me—”
“Oh yeah? But that doesn’t matter because I belong to you now.”
You felt your heart skip a beat at that moment. He always knew what to say to make you feel overwhelmed.
“And now our first date can be at that restaurant you’ve always wanted to go to! We should go there next Friday!”
“Alright, it’s a date!”
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
You’ve been dating for almost a whole year now, and things have been going great. Both of you always go out on cute little dates, and he treats you well. At first, your relationship had a rocky start because you found it very hard to trust him. I mean, it’s only fair since he used to be a big player. But ever since he got with you, he has completely changed as a person. It was almost as if he had a soft spot when it comes you.
One day, you and him were assigned a group project with this other girl, Lia.
Now, you always thought something was off about her from the day you met her. The way she would act around Hendery really rubbed you the wrong way. She always laughed at something he said, even though it wasn’t funny. She would even find a way to touch him, whether it was playfully punching his arm or his thigh. You even brought it up with Hendery, and he just said that you were making a big deal about it.
“Look, babe, I think you’re overreacting a little bit. Me and her have always been friends ever since high school.”
“Um, I don’t know, I’m serious, Hendery, something is off with her. Whenever I would text her about the project, she would either not respond to me or respond days later.”
He was actively getting ready to go to his friend Yangyang's birthday party. Hendery doesn’t go to parties as much as he used to before, but since this was for his best friend, he had to make an appearance. He was putting his shoes on now and he was almost ready to go. You weren’t planning on going with him because you didn’t feel so good. He offered to stay with you, but you didn’t want to get in his way because he was looking forward to the party. He even planned most of it.
“Look, honey, I’m sure Lia doesn’t like me or anything. Last I heard, I think she’s talking to someone.”
That gave you some relief knowing that now. You almost felt bad for painting this evil picture of her. He could tell how anxious and worried you looked. He walked up to you and gave you a kiss on the forehead.
“Baby, if you're worried that much, I won’t even stay long at the party. I will go and make sure everything is ok and come back home, alright?”
You nodded, and he gave you a kiss goodbye as he walked out the door, leaving you alone in your shared apartment.
Fast forward, it was starting to get pretty late and Hendery hadn’t come home yet. But you didn’t let it bother you because a big fear of yours is that you didn’t want to seem too needy and clingy to him. You called him once, and he didn’t answer and left him a couple of text messages, but he hasn’t seen them. You just told yourself he was busy trying to make sure everything at the party was going well, and you didn’t want to be in the way of that. So you decided to go to sleep at this point because you were tired of waiting for him.
It’s 2 am now when you get a phone call, but it is from your best friend.
“OH MY GOD, you need to check what I texted you just now. It’s crazy, and I’m sorry this happened to you, but I had to be the one to tell you,” she exclaimed.
“Well, what is it-”
“Look, my phone is about to die and I can’t stay on the phone for long so just look at the photos I sent you alright?”
“Fine.” She instantly hung up and you went straight into your messages with her. 
What you saw that night completely changed you forever.
It was photos she took, and it was of Hendery and Lia being together.
He never mentioned that she was going to be at the party, and all the photos made you want to burst into tears. You could see that she was sitting in his lap, and he looked very happy to be with her. There was even one photo where he had his hands around her waist, and they were making out with each other. In the last photo she sent, it looked like Lia was leading him to a room upstairs, so you already knew what probably happened next.
Hendery just cheated on you.
Not only did he belittle your feelings on how you felt about her, but he made it seem like everything was ok when in reality he just wanted to get into her pants. It makes you begin to question whether all those late nights when he said he was at the "gym," he was actually with her instead. It makes sense why she would feel so comfortable touching him in the first place. All the pieces start to come together. No wonder she used to be so passive-aggressive with you all the time and so dismissive.
She was jealous of you and wanted Hendery for herself.
Before all of this happened, you and him started to become a little more distant. You would always ask him if it was something you did, but he would always reassure you that it wasn’t your fault. You began to blame yourself for all of this happening. If only you had encouraged him to stay home with you, none of this would have happened. Tears started to pour down your face, and you were continuously sobbing. You just couldn’t believe he would do something like this to you.
Here you thought that Hendery had changed.
So you decided to confront him about it when he came home. You went straight into the living room and sat there until he came back.
Some time passed, and now it’s almost 4 am. You had fallen asleep for a bit, but you were awakened by the front door being opened. He tried to shut it softly, almost as if he was trying to be sneaky. But you turned on the light and gave him an intense death glare.
You were furious.
Rightfully so. Your childhood best friend, now boyfriend, not only cheated but broke your trust. You could never trust him or look at him the same way ever again. He gave you a look of fear, almost as if he was afraid of you. You got up from the couch and started to walk towards him.
“So, what happened to you coming home early, huh? Do you realize what time it is right now?” You said in a serious tone.
“U-um yeah, Yangyang wanted me to stay longer, and I-”
“Are you serious? Hendery, if you’re going to lie to me, don’t use your friends as a cop-out.”
He gave you a confused look, and he couldn’t register what you were talking about.
“Hendery, I know you were with Lia tonight. I saw everything.”
The look on his face was almost priceless. You had never seen him look so worried and scared for his life.
“I don’t know what-”
"CAN YOU JUST STOP LYING? I gave you a chance to be honest with me, and now you want to lie to me not once but twice. God, you're such an asshole.”
“Oh, I’m the asshole? You wait for me to come home this late to make lies and assumptions about Lia after I told you-”
You cut right to the chase and showed him all the pictures on your phone.
He immediately wanted to fall to his knees at this moment. He has now been caught, and there are no excuses for what he has done to you.
He tried reaching out to grab your phone and said, “Hey, where did you get those-”
You swiped your phone and backed away from him. When he was approaching you, you caught a whiff of alcohol coming off of him.
He was clearly very intoxicated right now.
He hasn’t been this drunk since last year when he would come home late after parties. He was clearly unstable right now because he could barely. You almost started to feel a little worried for him.
“Was I not enough for you, Hendery? What did she have that I didn’t?”
He gave you a dazed look because he genuinely didn’t know how to respond to this. Even he couldn't understand why he did all of this in the first place. Ever since he has been in a relationship with you, he hasn't been to any parties and didn’t have that much fun. That’s why he originally planned this one for Yangyang. But he didn’t even know that Lia was going to show up. One thing led to another, he just kept on having drinks with her, and he couldn’t stop it.
 Just for one night, he didn’t even think about you.
“Look babe, I don’t know why I did it, okay? I will be honest with you, I used to have feelings for her a long time ago, and I was even going to take her out last year and-”
“Wait a minute, the night that I confessed to you, you were supposed to go on a date with her? Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“Well, I thought I was completely over her, so I didn’t feel the need to tell you-”
“Oh, you’re such a jerk. You lied to me and told me I was overreacting and that it was just all in my head. You made me feel stupid, and you said she was talking to someone else. Was that all a lie too?”
“Technically no because she lied to me too.”
“And you think that’s supposed to just make things better? You’re such a terrible person; I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“It’s not like you’re any better anyways.”
He hit a nerve with you. You knew that because he was drunk, he was probably saying things he didn't mean, but you couldn't stay calm anymore.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, you heard me, sweetie. You’re just as bad as me. All you ever do in this relationship is control me and don’t let me be free. You stopped me from going out to parties as much, and I barely go out as much because of it.”
“Are you actually stupid? I didn’t say you couldn’t go; I just didn’t trust you because I knew some shit like this was going to happen. You’re starting to really piss me off now.”
“Then how about you just shut up then-”
You gave him a hard slap on his face. He had finally crossed the line. He was clearly upset about what you did, and he pushed you against the wall, causing one of the photos to fall against your arm and onto the floor. It scratched your arm a bit, and it was evident it was going to leave a mark.
“WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?” you yelled at him in anger.
He pinned you against the wall and looked down at you with frustration. You had never seen him this mad at you before. He had never been this violent towards you, and you were starting to feel scared of him.
He just started crying out of nowhere and tried to caress your face with his hands. “Baby, I’m so sorry and didn’t mean to hurt-”
“Get out now.”
He looked shocked and almost surprised by your response.
“If your ass is not out of here by the morning, I’m calling the police. I don’t want to see you ever again. Do you understand me?”
He instantly regretted all the things he had done to you. He knew you were serious because you had never spoken to him like this before.
"Me and you are done, Hendery."
You push him off of you and go straight into your bedroom, throwing all of his clothes and stuff out into the living room. He keeps begging and pleading for you to stop, but you ignore him; you have made up your mind at this point.
“Babe, please, I’m sorry. I clearly drank too much, and I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you. I promise we can fix this, and I'll do better-”
“NO, WE CAN’T. What don’t you understand when I say get out now? We’re done, and frankly, I just want you out of here immediately.”
“B-But where am I going to sleep tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know. You should’ve thought of that before you went out and cheated on me. Here's all of your stuff; get out of here now.”
“I live here too, you know-”
“Well, not anymore.”
He starts to accept this outcome. He knows that nothing he could say or do could change your mind. He starts to make his way over to the front door and gives you a look of guilt. He really messed up this time; he was not only losing his girlfriend but his best friend.
“Oh, I know it’s too late to say this, but happy one-year anniversary.”
Holy shit.
You lost track of the time, and you realize that today was indeed your one-year anniversary with him. The fact that all this had to happen on the day of your anniversary makes everything even more painful. He closes the door behind him, and you never see Hendery ever again.
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
Seven years had passed, and you had established yourself in your career. You got a job offer that brought you back to your hometown. Three months into this new job, you had become close with your coworkers, who invited you out for drinks to celebrate. Excited for a night out, you dressed in your favorite outfit and headed to the bar, catching an Uber to meet your colleagues.
Little did you know, Hendery happened to be at the same place too. At first, he didn't notice you until Yangyang pointed you out.
"Hey, isn't that-"
"Yeah, it is her. I haven't seen her since we broke up. She looks so different now."
"Dude, I know. You were stupid for cheating on her in the first place."
“Tell me something I don’t already know. We probably would have still been together now if I wasn’t such an idiot."
As time passed, he began to miss you and being in a relationship with you. He longed for your company and missed all the time you had shared. Every day, he regretted hurting you and wished he could’ve fixed the relationship.
“Well, I don’t think it’s too late to properly apologize. Besides, that was years ago, I’m sure she is probably over it by now.”
“Oh, I know for a fact she is not. I really broke her heart, and she is not just going to move on from that.”
You were not over it. You still get triggered when you think of him. Even now, you don’t want to forgive him at all.
But another part of you still missed him.
You often imagined how life would have been if he never cheated. You envisioned feeling happy and fulfilled being with him. But he made his choice, and it was to not be with you.
“I wish I could just-”
He stopped as he noticed you laughing with one of your male coworkers. You were sitting pretty close to him and looked like you were really intoxicated. You were pretty much a lightweight and tended to get pretty “friendly” when drunk.
Hendery felt a little jealous seeing you with someone else. But he knew you guys haven’t been with each other in a very long time, so of course you would move on from him. It still hurts to see you with someone else.
“Dude, you're staring way too hard at her,” Yangyang said.
“No, I’m not,” Hendery replied as he looked away from you.
“You’re jealous, aren’t you?”
"So much," Hendery replied with a sigh.
“Listen, I say you go talk to her and try to work things out. Even if she doesn’t forgive you, give her a better apology than before.”
He was right.
The night you and Hendery broke up, he was too intoxicated to even give you a proper apology.
“You know what? You’re right. I’m going to talk to her right now-”
“Woah, do you really think it’s a good idea? She looks pretty occupied now, and maybe you should talk to her after-”
“No, it has to be now. What if I don’t get an opportunity like this again? This is my sign to do it now.”
Yangyang nodded his head as he watched how Hendery made his way over to your table.
As he approached you, your whole demeanor started to change. You went from being carefree and happy to anxious and irritated.
“Unbelievable. I thought I never had to see your face again,” you said in a harsh but serious tone.
All your coworkers at the table noticed the shift in your behavior. They had never seen you so angry before.
“Look, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but can I-”
“Can you what? Make a fool out of me for the 2nd time now? Not in front of my friends. I would appreciate it if you leave now.”
Things started to get uncomfortable not only for you but also for your coworkers.
“It will just take like 5 minutes. Can we please just talk-”
“What is there to talk about? Just leave me alone. You’re pissing me off even more than before."
The guy sitting next to you noticed how your body was starting to shake a little. He didn’t know why the two of you broke up, but he saw that he was making you feel uncomfortable. So, he decided to do something about it. He sat up and placed a hand on Hendery's shoulder.
“Hey man, just back off, alright? She clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you. So I suggest you—"
Before things escalated, Yangyang intervened to break up the altercation between your coworker and Hendery before things got messier.
"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but let's just step away for a moment," Yangyang said, attempting to defuse the situation.
"Wait," you exclaimed.
Everyone at the table turned their attention to you, curious to hear what you had to say.
"Um, that won’t be necessary, Yangyang. I'll hear Hendery out and see what he has to say," you announced.
Your coworkers were shocked by your decision, and the one who had tried to defend you earlier asked if you were sure about it. You nodded in response.
Yangyang stepped away, and you followed Hendery to a table in the back where your conversation wouldn't be overheard.
Hendery stared at you, struggling to find the right words. You were just as beautiful and intimidating as ever. 
“Uh, are you going to say anything to me or just keep on being a creep?” you asked.
He let out a soft chuckle and said, “Nah, it's just you're still so pretty, and you look so different now.”
“Yeah, it's because I've been happier since we broke up.”
“Ouch, okay, I deserve that. Look, what I did to you was so wrong, and I don’t know how I can make it up to you. I'm seriously sorry for—”
“Oh, don’t act like you care now. You know, after we broke up, a small part of me was waiting for you to come back to try and make things right, and I hated myself for feeling that way. To have given you the benefit of the doubt, but you know what you did instead?” 
He looked worried about what you were going to say next.
“You decided to go back to your old ways and sleep with every girl you see, and you didn’t even try to text or call to give me a proper apology. It’s almost as if you wanted to find a reason to break up with me so you could go back to being a whore again.”
Hendery was a little hurt and taken aback by what you said. He knew you were a little buzzed and tended to speak bluntly because of it.
He hated that you were right about everything.
“Okay, you’re right. I was being childish, and you have every right to hate my guts right now. But that's why I want to make things right between us—”
“Make things right? Are you serious? You made me feel stupid all these years, I thought that I did something wrong and I wasn't enough for you. You made it seem like I was the problem.”
“Listen, I know none of this is okay, and you don’t have to forgive me. I just want you to hear me say that I’m sorry.”
You started to get up and said, “Well, you should’ve told me that seven years ago.”
He stopped you from walking away, grabbed your wrist, and said, “Look, I shouldn’t have cheated on you, and I should’ve just communicated how I was feeling about you. Instead, I was too much of a coward to say anything. I am a different person now.”
You rolled your eyes, as if you were going to believe anything he said. He was just saying this so he could find his way back into your life.
“Yeah, right? You've changed?”
You sat back down in your chair and crossed your arms at him.
“Actually, I have. I stopped drinking so much that I only do it on occasion now. I even went to therapy, and it really helped me out a lot. Probably the best thing I could’ve done for myself.”
He said this with such conviction, and it seemed genuine. He maintained eye contact with you, and that’s how you know he was telling the truth. Whenever he lied, he could never look at you in the eye.
You were starting to believe him.
Maybe you were being too harsh on him. It had been over seven years since you last saw each other, and people can change in that amount of time.
Even someone like Hendery.
You finally started to come around and cracked a little smile.
“Fine, I guess you have changed. The old you wouldn't have tried this hard to apologize to me.”
He was shocked when you initially turned around and decided to forgive him after all this time.
"So, do you forgive me?" he asked.
You were a little hesitant at first but decided to nod your head yes. He let out a sigh of relief as if a weight was being lifted off his chest.
“I forgive you, but it will take some time for me to accept you back into my life. I mean, we were really good friends, and you messed up our friendship as well.”
“I know, and I want to apologize for that too. My sisters would come after me for being such an idiot.”
“Oh yeah, how are your sisters? I haven’t talked to them in so long since I moved away.”
“They’re good! They always hoped that we would someday be good friends again!”
You guys began to catch up more, and it was starting to get pretty late. Your coworkers approached you and asked if you were coming with them, and you said you were going to stay back and talk with Hendery some more. As time went on, Yangyang had left too because he didn't want to interrupt what was going on between you two.
It was now midnight, and you had no ride home.
“Hey, I have no problem taking you home. Unless you’re not comfortable with that—”
“No, I don't mind. I don’t live too far away, so you can drop me off.”
He nodded, and you got into his car and sat in the passenger seat. You guided him on how to get there. Suddenly, it started to rain really hard, and it was getting harder for him to maneuver his way around. Eventually, you arrived at your place. You offered him to come inside, just until the rain started to dial down. He agreed, and you both ran inside into your apartment building. You made it into your room and put all your stuff down.
You were so focused on getting inside that you didn’t realize how Hendery's clothes were drenched in the rain, and his hair was wet. His wet clothes were clinging to his figure, making you see the outline of his body. He pushed his long hair back to stop it from covering his face.
Why were you still so attracted to him?
“Hey, your clothes are very wet. I can put them in the dryer for you.”
"Aw, thanks, I appreciate it."
He starts to take off his shirt, but you stop him.
"Whoa, you don’t have to do that in front of me. Just go to the laundry room, and I'll find you a t-shirt or something."
"Oh, please, don’t act like you've never seen my body before. It's just like when we were roommates, right?"
"Yeah, but it’s different now... just go put your clothes away."
He agreed and put his clothes in the dryer. You gave him one of your baggy shirts to wear while he waited. You sat on the couch and got comfortable, keeping a normal distance from each other. You talked more about life and what you've both been up to since being apart.
"So, whatever happened to Lia? How long did that last?" You said playfully, knowing their relationship was bound to end.
"We didn’t even last a week."
You started laughing hard, and he chuckled a bit too. You both knew he never actually liked her and just jumped at the first opportunity he had.
"Of course, it didn’t. What happened with that?"
"So, apparently, I was too 'boring' for her, and she wanted to be with someone more fun."
"That’s so stupid. God, I really never liked her. Still don’t know how you tolerated her."
It was crazy how you both went right back to the way things were. It felt purely platonic between the two of you, and you could freely talk about anything. It didn’t feel weird or awkward at all. You both were mature about the situation.
"So, what about you? I'm sure you dated some guys after we broke up."
"Surprisingly, not really. I had to heal and work on myself afterward. I didn’t meet anyone until after I graduated. I tried hookups, but they didn’t really help. So, I waited to be in a relationship with someone, and I did."
Hendery was very curious about what you meant by that.
"So, what happened with him?"
“So, the relationship ended a couple of months ago, and it was pretty off and on. We just weren't going to work out since I had to move back here. We didn’t want to do long distance, so we just broke up.”
You were so deep into the conversation that you didn’t notice how close Hendery sat next to you. He was only a knee's length away. He patted your shoulder and said, “Dang, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Ah, it’s alright. It was completely mutual, and yeah, it still hurts me a little. That’s why I went out with my coworkers to drink tonight, to try and ease the pain.”
“Wait, really? Now I feel even worse. I ruined your night out by dumping myself back into your life—”
You grabbed onto his arm and said, “Oh no, you didn’t ruin anything. Actually, a part of me is glad you did that. I missed having my best friend in my life.”
He smiled and got up from the couch, walking around your place a little bit. He looked at all the pictures on your wall and noticed the cracked photo frame that he broke the night of your breakup. It was a photo of you and him when you were kids.
“Whoa, you still have this? I can’t believe I hurt you that night. I really shouldn’t have done that.”
You got up and made your way over to him, replying, “Yeah, it’s fine. Plus, I struggle to let go of things, so I've kept it ever since. Also, look, the scar is still there too.”
You lifted up your sleeves and showed your arm to him. He had a guilty look on his face, and all this just made him feel even worse. He still couldn’t believe that he put his hands on you. Even though the scar was just a little scratch, he still felt terrible. He looked over to another photo, and it seemed to be a photo of you and your ex. He picked it up and said, “I’m assuming this was him?”
“Yeah, I tell myself I will get rid of it, but I just can’t bring myself to do it, you know?”
Hendery knew exactly what you were talking about. He still had photos of the two of you when you were dating. He looked back on them every now and then to reminisce on all the good memories you had together. He knew that you were in a vulnerable state in your life right now. You broke up with your boyfriend a long time ago, and you’re still trying to cope with it.
But, he couldn’t stop thinking about how much he wanted you right now.
He feels terrible, but he can’t help it. You were wearing an off-the-shoulder baggy shirt with some shorts. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. He felt like such a creep for having such lewd thoughts about you, and he didn’t know how long he could take it anymore.
"So, where's your room?"
"Nice try, but that's not going to work on me."
"What are you talking about? You're the one making it weird. I just asked a simple question."
Maybe he was right. You had been in your head a lot recently, and you tended to overanalyze things. He just wanted you to give him a little tour of your new place. You led him into your room. He saw that you kept it very simple, and instead of having lights on, you had candles lighting up your room. You both decided to chill there and play some music. Then, you started to talk more about life and didn’t even realize you were both lying side by side with each other on the bed. He then noticed a mysterious box you had next to your bedside table.
"Hey, what’s in that box next to you?"
You began to panic and forgot to put it away in your drawers. You couldn’t think of an excuse off the top of your head, and you said, “Oh, it’s nothing, you just reminded me to put it away-”
"Okay, now I know you’re lying to me because you always stumble on your words when you do that. Let me see it."
He tried to reach over you to get it, but you stopped and started to play fight with him. You were trying to push him back enough so you could secretly hide it somewhere when he wasn’t looking. You don’t know how this happened, but he is now on top of you and pinned your hands above your head with one of his hands. You were squirming under him and started to laugh at your struggle.
"Let go of me now."
"Aww, but where's the fun in that? Let’s see what you’re hiding in here."
He grabbed the box and opened it, and to his surprise, he saw what you were trying to hide so desperately.
All of your sex toys.
When you were together, you never really had any, probably just one or two. But this box was filled with so many things, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
"Wow, I didn’t know you liked all of this."
You started to become embarrassed by this situation, and the position you were in wasn’t making it any better.
“L-look, it’s not what y-you think. I-”
“Oh, don’t try and explain yourself now, sweetie. I knew secretly you were probably into a lot of things.”
He knelt down to your ear and whispered, “But I couldn’t ever imagine you being this much of a slut.”
Shivers ran down your spine as you felt your body go limp. It’s been forever since he talked to you like this before. It was as if his whole demeanor had changed, and he was starting to get serious.
“Well, people change, you know? I’m not the same person you used to be,” you said in a flirtatious manner.
He felt himself start to become hard for you. The way you looked so fragile and weak under him, with you pinned down with one of his hands, was really doing something to him.
He couldn’t hold himself back anymore.
“Oh, really now? I want to see this new version of you, so let me just-”
You had some handcuffs in the box, and he decided to cuff you to the headboard of the bed.
“U-um, what are you doing? I don’t think we should-”
“Come on, baby, don’t act like you don’t miss this. I mean, look at you down there?”
He took off your shorts, and he saw a wet spot formed in your panties. You were too embarrassed to say anything.
“Mhm, don’t act all shy now. This is only just the beginning. Let’s try using this on you-”
He lowered your underwear down past your ankles, and now you’re left in nothing but your t-shirt. He grabbed one of your vibrators and started to use it on you. You let out a loud moan from the sudden sensation you were feeling on your clit.
“P-please, slow it d-down-”
He brought it a level higher than before and started to laugh at you. He enjoyed seeing you trying to keep it together.
“God, you look so pathetic right now, and it’s actually kind of cute.”
You started to tense up a bit from his words. He started to spice things up by shoving one of his fingers into your aching pussy. You let out a loud scream and quickly covered your mouth with his other hand.
“Shh, baby, you don’t want your neighbors to find out what’s going on here. I need you to be good for me and try to keep your voice down,” he said in such a calming tone that it was starting to put you at ease. But you spoke too soon, and he added a second finger into your cunt. He was thrusting into you at a rough and hard pace. Tears started to form in your eyes as you bit your lips to hold back your moans.
“F-fuck, if you k-keep this up I’m going to-”
“I know, so why don’t you cum for me, okay?”
You nodded his head as he set your vibrator to the highest setting and continued fingering you at a rougher pace. When you came, he removed the toy and his fingers, then used his mouth to clean everything up. This took you a little off guard, but you felt satisfied.
You couldn’t believe this was happening right now.
He took off your handcuffs, and you felt like you were going to pass out. But Hendery took off his shirt and lowered his sweatpants down to his knees. You could see his hard-on protruding through his boxers, clearly aroused by you.
“Oh, we are not done yet, sweetheart. I’m not fully satisfied yet, and I can’t hold back anymore.”
He took off your shirt, and your chest was exposed to him. You felt the cold air on you, and that made your nipples start to perk up.
“You look so pretty, how can I ever resist you?”
He grabbed both of your legs and placed them over his shoulders, shoving his cock into you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you let out a loud moan. He wasn’t slowing down either. He was desperate for you, pounding into you with a rough and hard pace. He lowered his head to your chest and started to kiss all over your tits. He couldn’t help himself, and he had been wanting to do this to you all night. He started sucking on one of them while groping and squeezing the other with his hand. Then, he switched and repeated the same actions on the other boob. You were practically seeing stars at this point and didn’t know how long you could last.
“P-please, I-I don’t know if I can-”
“Yes, you can. You've done it before in my mouth, and now I want you to cum all over my cock.”
He was being so blunt, and he knew exactly what he wanted from you. He began thrusting aggressively into you and wrapped his hand around your neck. He felt you tighten up when he started to choke you, and he took note of that.
“Aww, you like this, don’t you, baby? You’re so needy for me, it’s adorable.”
There he goes again, making you feel all flustered for him. It was starting to become humiliating for you.
“Ah, shit, I’m going to cum soon. Do it at the same time with me, please,” Hendery exclaimed.
You nodded your head, and he went faster than before. The headboard of your bed was aggressively hitting the back of your wall. You knew for a fact that your neighbors were hearing all of this right now. But you didn’t care. You were lost in your own world with him, and nothing else mattered to you right now. You both started to be loud for each other and you eventually both finished at the same time. He was bottoming out inside of you and didn’t stop until he was satisfied.
You both fell back, side by side. Looking up at the ceiling, you started to question if this was really happening. Secretly, you both had thought about this before. Hendery turned to face you and said,
“Hey, I wanted to say I’m sorry for putting the moves on you this fast. I mean, you're still recovering from a breakup and-”
You stopped him from talking by kissing him. He was a little startled by this, but he wrapped his arm behind your waist and brought you closer to him.
“You don’t need to apologize for anything. Tonight was amazing, and it was the first time in a very long time I had someone make me feel this good.”
“So what about your ex?”
“Well, he was… interesting to say the least.”
“He didn’t make you cum sometimes, huh?”
You punched his arm playfully and began to laugh. “Yeah, he wouldn’t, and sometimes it was so bad I had to imagine it was -”
Shit, why did you have to say that? You were practically delirious because not only were you still trying to process what just happened, but it was 3 am, and you said anything that came to mind since you were very tired.
“Wait, what?”
“Uh, nothing…”
He grabbed your chin and had that condescending look on his face. “Come on, honey, tell me what you were going to say.”
You felt flustered again and said, “Fine, I sometimes would think about you so I could finish afterward.”
“Oh wow, to be honest, I would sometimes think about you too.”
You playfully slapped his arm and said, “Pervert.”
“Says the one who used to secretly watch me all the time.”
“Touche.”
You both laughed it off and cuddled for the rest of the night. You wondered what happens next from here. You both still have feelings for each other and didn’t want to walk away from this.
“So, how do you want to take things from here?” You said.
“Well, I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything. If you just want this to be it, I’m completely okay with that.”
“No, I missed what we had, and I don’t want this to be the end.”
“So, what are you saying?”
You sat up from the bed, and he did the same as well. You crossed your legs and faced him in his direction. You grabbed his hands and looked at him, saying, “I want us to get back together.”
Hendery had a worried look on his face.
“Are you sure about this? I really hurt you last time, and I don’t want to cause you any more pain.”
“I’m completely sure now, and I know you've changed since the last time we saw each other.”
He nodded his head and gave you a kiss on the lips. He spent the night at your place, and from that point on, you took things slow. You were both just happy that in the end, you found each other again…
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cheolcam · 1 day
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꒰♡꒱ avisos: yuta rockstar, leitora influencer, é mencionado uma vez que a leitora é peituda, a leitora é chamada de boneca, corruption kink (?), tudo é consentido, sugestivo, não revisado.
꒰♡꒱ notas da autora: o final ficou meio bosta pq eu me distrai pensando em outro scenario...
yuta rockstar que não vale nada, e você sendo uma influencer famosinha que é convidada pro show da banda dele.
tudo começou quando você repostou um story em uma festa que você tava e a música dele de fundo. yuta soube da sua existência quando você apareceu no explorar do insta dele e ele gostou do que viu.
você não tinha o mesmo estilo que as minas que ele come, mas ele se sentiu atraído mesmo assim... yuta é um homem simples, ele vê uma mina com cara de sonsa e uma grande comissão de frente ele se atrai.
ele te seguiu e via seus storys sempre que ele tinha disposição pra entrar no instagram, curtiu algumas fotos e nada mais, o que já causou um puta burburinho supondo que vocês tem um caso ou algo assim.
você nada boba, não confirma, nem nega continua seguindo sua vida com o seu conteúdo. engajamento é sempre bom quando esse é seu único trabalho. yuta segue curtindo seus posts e às vezes comentando um emoji ou outro, até que um dia ele te chama na dm dizendo que vai fazer show na sua cidade e perguntando se você quer ir.
você aceita, fica na parte restrita a frente da pista premium junto com mais alguns convidados e yuta faz contato visual com você o tempo todo, e você fica hipnotizada. nesse tempo que yuta começou a interagir nas suas redes você chegou a procurar sobre ele e a banda, ouviu as músicas e até gravou um tiktok dublando a letra (yuta também comentou nesse vídeo) mas nada te preparou pra ver ele pessoalmente. ele é gostoso demais.
depois do show você percebe que é única que usa uma pulseira diferente, quando yuta disse que queria te conhecer pessoalmente achou que ia ser algo geral, com todos os outros convidados, mas a pulseirinha rosa te rende um encontro vip com a banda.
com ajuda do segurança você chega no local do encontro, tira fotos com a banda e troca uma ideia rápida, todos eles se despedem de você, menos o nakamoto. ele te chama pra tirar uma selfie pra postar depois, afinal vocês meio que viram um hiperfoco da internet por alguns meses. você aceita, tiram, e quando percebe já estão sozinhos.
yuta pergunta se você tem algum plano pro resto da noite e você diz que não tem nenhum, ele sorri. "quer ficar comigo? nunca visitei a cidade, mas tô cansado demais pra sair e todo mundo vai ir jantar..."
você aceita, pergunta pra onde vocês vão e ele responde "não sei boneca, quer ficar aqui ou ir pro hotel?" você fica tímida, imaginando se o convite teria um motivo escondido. "sabe boneca, quando eu te vi, eu fiquei pensando muito... você é tão linda..." ele se aproxima e percebe que você não se afasta. "pensei em te quebrar, te fazer chorar, hm? tão lindinha... você choraria por mim, meu bem?" você parece um pouco confusa. "choraria se eu te fizesse implorar pela minha pica?"
vocês não consguem nem chegar ao hotel, o máximo que conseguiram for chegar no camarim do nakamoto.
ele te joga no sofá e resolve te comer lá mesmo, sua maquiagem e cabelos impecáveis saem uma bagunça, o suor causa uma sensação desagradável, ainda mais com a porra do japonês nos seus seios.
yuta te olha com um sorrisinho de canto e pergunta se você aceita ir pro hotel pra mais uma...
você aceita.
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markiefiles · 1 day
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'DOCE, VOCÊ É DOCE.
fem reader x johnny suh
avisos: smut, vampiro!au, implícito size kink, menção a sangue, dubcon se você estreitar os olhos – hipnose, conrole mental, sexo em público (?), uns palavrões, uns apelidinhos, implícito relação abusiva.
notas: escrevi isso após um surto (tava assistindo tvd lixooo☝️) e acho que estou na minha era de canibalismo como metáfora de amor, vampiros são bem explicativos-
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Você sentia o frio corroer os poros da sua pele, corroer os pelos eriçados do seu corpo, o medo te assombrava. Você andava pelos becos da cidade, à noite. E você não estava muito lúcida, talvez hipnotizada, seguindo um inconsciente comando.
Havia algo de extravagante dentro da sua memória, dos caninos roçando contra a cartilagem da sua orelha, do perfume muito forte e o cheiro de álcool que você ainda sentia embaixo do nariz. Tinha um tesão que te consumia, onde Johnny pulava de prédio em prédio, brincando com você, te seduzindo e trazendo para ele. Sua língua guardava um gosto frutífero, intoxicante na boca, era como se dentro do seu peito sentisse que fez a escolha certa, aquela em que contornava o caminho dos amigos da faculdade pra se envolver com ele.
Você… você sabia exatamente o que ele era, sabia que os olhos vermelhos dele te entregavam uma sensação de desespero, de fome. A voz dele era calma, os dedos esguios e pálidos de uma forma tão doente que te fascinava. E você ainda sim seguia caminhando pelas ruas, seguindo os postes que funcionavam comicamente mal.
Então, a risada dele correu dentro da sua cabeça, te fez rolar os olhos, morder a boca. Você conteve a respiração, o peito estufado e o coração inquieto. Suas costas estavam contra os tijolos, apesar do complexo luxuoso de apartamentos, o beco era escuro e amedrontador.
Você piscou, a pálpebra se movimentou rapidamente e por alguns segundos, o susto te congelou. Johnny te observava do outro lado, vocês estavam frente a frente. O cabelo preto caía contra os olhos dele, o sorriso presunçoso fazia sua barriga se revirar. Você notou a camiseta cinza manchada de sangue a cada passo que dava, o salto do sapato batendo contra o concreto, serpenteando e dançando com seus olhos.
Johnny tocou sua bochecha com o dedão, acarinhou afetuoso, culpado, beijou sua pele e deixou que seus olhos brilhantes e ansiosos te entregassem. Ele raspou o nariz contra o seu, suspirou envolvido no seu perfume e mais uma vez a ponta do nariz dele conduziu o seu rosto e se afundou no seu pescoço.
— Você é tão doce... — Johnny sussurrou, os dedos dele descendo pelo seu lábio, pressionando, sedutor.
— Sou?
— Talvez eu deva te mostrar o quanto. — Ele disse escutando sua risada.
Você pareceu sem jeito, o cheiro dele te entorpecia, não sabia mais dizer se toda aquela situação era real.
— Como?
Sua pergunta o acendeu, ele afastou os fios do seu cabelo. Com as costas da mão, acariciou a lateral de seu rosto, inconsequente, você trouxe os dedos dele para sua boca, chupou erótica. Johnny odiou, odiou a sensação de querer o seu sangue, quase que biblicamente.
Ele te beijou, as presas rasgaram superficialmente a carne da sua boca e Johnny sugou o sangue impaciente, seu sabor era vicioso, ele poderia chegar até seu coração, te devorar e de alguma forma, aquela ideia te perseguia e te excitava.
Johnny era cativante, as palavras mexiam com sua cabeça, você sentia pena dele, de como as lágrimas pareciam sinceras e de como ele te controlava, entrava na sua cabeça e te dominava completamente, como um vampiro devia fazer.
Os dedos dele rasparam a pele da sua coxa, ele apertou com força e seus olhos derreteram com o toque, com contraste da temperatura. O tecido da sua calcinha te incomodava, tão pegajoso que parecia patética, a adrenalina deixando seu corpo vulnerável. Johnny esfregou a ereção contra sua pélvis coberta, você gemeu, o abraçou e ele rosnou sentindo o cheiro do seu sangue quente e adocicado, seu pescoço destrutível se misturando com o cheiro de perfume floral, delicado.
Ele resvalou o nariz, se conteve. Uma de suas pernas se apoiou contra o quadril dele, você disse “Por favor, por favor, eu—” descontrolada, o choro se formando de uma forma tão íntima que Johnny por minutos pensou poupar sua vida.
Ele beijou suas lágrimas, comandou amável “Coloca a calcinha de lado” e você obedeceu sendo preenchida, suas paredes aquecendo ele tão ridiculamente bem que ele pareceu possesso e enciumado com a ideia de qualquer outro te provar, te experimentar.
Johnny se movimentou brutalmente, ele te fodia enquanto você cedia, deliberadamente, seu pescoço, sua fonte para ele. Ele sugou seu sangue, gemeu, completamente envolvido. O pau dele te destruía, você ia e vinha contra ele, o sufocava e ele sentia seu sangue contra a língua, os olhos vermelhos intensos se afundando contra você. Como se vocês dependessem um do outro.
Você gemia suave, as palavras eram bagunçadas, presas na sua garganta, você só queria que ele fosse mais rápido contra sua buceta, você só desejava que ele se entranhasse e te usasse.
Ele parecia tão maior naquele momento, parecia tão focado chupando e mordiscando seus mamilos, enrolando-os na língua e soltando eroticamente, a saliva e sangue deixando rastros na sua pele.
— Não posso te– não posso te matar, porra.
Ele versava, olhando nos teus olhos, adestrando suas expressões, te sujando com seu próprio sangue, era erótico pra dizer o mínimo e você estava prestes a gozar. Johnny enfiou um dos dedos dele na sua boca, sentiu seus dentes ridículos cravarem na pele dele e sorriu, despejou a porra perolada contra suas dobras, permanecendo ali, quente, pegajoso e desdenhoso.
O suor cobria seu corpo, sua respiração era atrapalhada e patética, mas tinha algo de prazeroso no morno do esperma, no sangue fresco ainda gotejando dos furos no seu pescoço e Johnny não desperdiçando nada, de alguma maneira te contemplando, endeusando.
— Você é minha.
Ele constatou, te beijando, mordendo sua língua, mais uma vez chupando seu sangue e talvez muito contido.
Você se separou, revirou os olhos quando sentiu o líquido viscoso se desfazendo contra suas pernas, deitou a testa contra os ombros dele e respirou profundamente. Então você sentiu os dedos dele contra seu pescoço, vagueando em sua nuca, trocando olhares, você assistiu as pupilas dele dilatarem, sentiu a voz dele sumir dentro de sua cabeça enquanto os lábios dele se movimentavam em câmera lenta.
E agora… você não sente nada, nada. Apenas o quanto você… você é doce.
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2cupids · 4 months
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𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏$$𝐘 | 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬
warnings — fem reader, overstimulation, oral (f. receiving), f.ingering, pet names (doll, baby)
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no sooner than your vision returns to normal, does your boyfriend’s latch his mouth onto your overly sensitive core again.
you’ve lost count of how count of how many times you’ve cum tonight. hell, you can barely even remember your last name. that’s how foggy your brain is.
you run your fingers through his hair and weakly tug at the strands but just enough to get his attention as you whine. “p-please too much, i-it’s too m-much.”
he moans against your cunt from the sting of his hair being pulled but he remains unfazed by your pleads, continuing to flick his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves and sucking it into his mouth as he drives two fingers into your hole. he does, however, let his free hand roam around the sheets until he finds your hand, intertwining your fingers together. your heart flutters at the simple yet intimate gesture.
he remains situated between your legs, one minute he’s lapping at your arousal then the next minute he’s suddenly pulling away and sitting back on his knees to look at you.
“let me honest with you, doll. i’m nowhere near finished with you. you let me have one taste of that sweet pussy and i can’t help myself, you know how i get,” he says before bending down to whisper the next part in your ear. “just let me stay down here a little longer— play with her a little more. then i’ll put this dick inside that pretty little pussy of yours if you’ll let me and fuck you to sleep while i fill you up.”
you clench around nothing except air at the lewdness of his words and all you can do in response is dumbly nod at him, too weak and tired to speak.
he brings your hand up to his lips, your fingers still interlocked and kisses the back of your hand. “thank you for being so good for me baby. we’ll do whatever you want tomorrow, how does that sound?”
you nod again and he returns to his previous position, placing a kiss on the hood of your swollen clit. “you think if i add three fingers i can get you to squirt?”
shownu, kihyun, taeil, johnny, taeyong, yuta, kun, changkyun, doyoung, jaehyun, hongjoong, seonghwa, yunho, san, mark, xiaojun, mingi, hendery, haechan, jaemin
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note: now y’all i don’t write for mx but i.m, shownu, and kihyun (jooheon too lowkey) give me the vibe that they would do this
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mrkis · 5 months
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raw. (m.l)
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PAIRING: mark lee x afab!reader GENRE: smut WORD COUNT: 3.4k
SYNOPSIS: you find out you're out of condoms as soon as you and mark are about to have sex. feeling defeated, mark opts to go relieve himself in the bathroom but you suggest maybe that its time for him to finally fuck you raw.
CONTENT WARNINGS: explicit content, established relationship, light touching, starts off with sweet!mark then switches to pussy drunk!mark, unprotected sex, creampie, heavy use of 'my girl' and 'baby', nasty dirty talk mark doesn't shut the fuck up,
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“I’ve missed you.” Mark mouths at your skin, arms tight around your middle as he presses you against his chest, breathing in the scent of your body wash and perfume as he nuzzles his head into the crevice of your neck. You smile, lacing your fingers through his hair as you melt into his embrace and he hums at the soft tugs you give, suckling and nipping at the spot where your shoulder and neck meet.
“Ow,” A giggle leaves your lips as Mark bites down a little too hard and your body angles away from him, only for him to whine and try and draw your back to him, muttering an apology against your neck as he tightens his hold on you. “We can’t stand here all day, Mark.”
Mark huffs as if what you’ve stated is something so offensive it hurts his feelings, shoulders sagging as he reluctantly lets you go but his hand slips into your own, intertwining your fingers as he allows you to pull him to a more suitable place than your front door, dragging his socked covered feet across the floorboards as he takes in your home, a warmth spreading through his chest.
Mark missed being at your place, the sweet familiar smell of a candle that was previously burning filling his senses, the hum of the TV playing your favourite show in the background, the subtle misplaced ornaments and potted plants that you’ve picked up to move or admire.
He takes a glance at your kitchen as he passes it, noticing a dish and a bowl soaking in soapy water and he smiles knowing you’ve eaten already, wondering if it was something delicious and filling for you. He wants to ask what it could’ve been, but the question remains on the tip of his tongue as you’re pulling him towards your bedroom.
And that’s when he feels most at home. 
The bag that was once resting on his shoulders drops to the ground, mindlessly being kicked to the side as his body finally relaxes, the tiredness that he’s used to pushing at the back of his mind comes front and centre, sluggishly making his way towards the unmade bed and planting himself down on the edge. 
The hand that's holding yours pulls you between his open legs and he rests his cheek on your stomach, embracing you as he once did a few moments prior and he sighs happily as your fingers resume playing with his hair. 
“How was work?”
“Fine,” His tone is quiet and gentle. “Japan was fun. Yuta was our tour guide again and was taking us to all these places,” Mark moves his head a little to look up at you, resting his chin on your stomach inside. “I took some pictures for you—ones I haven’t sent you yet.” 
You’re more than eager to see what pictures Mark wants to show you, gently pushing him up the bed for him to lay comfortably and he laughs, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone while his other arm curls around you, holding you close to his side and pressing his lips to the top of your head, finding comfort in the scent of your shampoo as he unlocks his phone, clicking the camera roll app and your eyes widen in excitement seeing all the recent photos you haven’t seen.
You’re in awe watching him scroll through the photos, the scenery and the colours of it all leaving you speechless, hanging onto every word as he tells you the story behind them all, some comical and others sweet and endearing. 
“Seeing this one, like, reminded me of you.” He whispers against your head as he shows you a picture of a sunset, a blend of pinks and oranges making your heart flutter. “It’s pretty—calming, made me feel at ease. It made me miss you even more than I already did, you know.”
“You called me every night,” You tell him, laughing as he groans and rolls his eyes, throwing his phone to the side before gripping your hips, pulling your body on top of his and massaging your thighs with his fingers, kneading the skin as they settle on each of his sides. 
“You know it’s not the same,” Mark argues, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. “I love hearing your voice over the phone but, like, having you there with me physically means more to me. I get to hold you, I get to touch you… I get to kiss my girl.”
“Is that so?”
Mark hums with a short nod of his head before he cranes his neck up to meet your lips in a short but sweet kiss, squeezing your thighs once you reciprocate and he smiles against your lips as he feels your hands cradle his cheeks.
Then, you feel it. His hard cock pressing your inner thigh, twitching with each subtle movement of your hips as you rest your entire weight on him, causing him to grunt against your lips due to the pressure on his cock. 
“Are you tired?” You pull away from his lips to ask him and you bite back the smile that threatens to spread across your cheeks as Mark follows, wanting your mouth back on his. 
“A little,” He admits, squeezing your thighs. “But I don’t care. Just want you.”
Warmth fills your chest, “You want me?”
“So bad.” 
You don’t have time to swoon over his words as he’s already leaning up and reconnecting your lips in a much deeper kiss, biting down on your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth to tangle with your own all while his hands slip around to grip your ass, pulling you ever closer so that your chest is pressed against his. 
You kiss for a while, relishing in the way his lips feel on yours, familiar with the slow and unrushed pace he takes and your hands curl around the front of his shirt, signalling for him to take it off immediately and he smiles against your mouth, breaking the kiss for a moment to allow you to pull the material over his head.
He’s giving you a toothy smile, eyes twinkling with adoration as he stares up at you and his fingers twitch over the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off and you happily give him permission to do so, raising your arms in the air and Mark tugs it off, throwing it carelessly to the side before his hands touch your skin, palms hot and clammy as he brings you in for another kiss, one that's more desperate and needy.
Mark’s moaning shamelessly into your mouth when your hands dip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, first curling around his cock and giving him a few experimental pumps that has him almost drawing blood on your lip when he bites down a little too hard.
“Easy,” You hum with a giggle and Mark groans, craning his neck as he throws his head back against the pillows, tongue licking his bottom lip as your hand squeezes around his cock. He lifts his hips as you begin to rid him of the rest of his clothing and you awkwardly manoeuvre above him, laughing as you almost topple over if it wasn’t for the hold he has on your hips.
“You go easy,” Mark teases you this time and you roll your eyes. You drop your hands from him to finally peel off the rest of your own clothes and he watches you with hooded lids, resting one arm behind his head while the other wraps around his cock to jerk himself off as he takes in your naked body, something he’s seen plenty of times before but he views it as if it's his first time, absorbing himself in your curves, the swell of your breasts and your pretty pussy.
“Like what you see?”
Mark smiles, “Always,”
You get a little shy at his compliment but continue to lean forwards to capture his lips in a kiss which he immediately reciprocates, his hand curls around the back of your neck to keep you still against his lips and he moans as your tongue slips inside his mouth to touch his own.
He’s still touching himself between your bodies, lifts jerking upwards into his fist and gasping in your mouth when the tip grazes over your skin, the sensitivity sending goosebumps down his spine.
You pull away from his lips much to his dismay and he tries to pull you back in but stops when he sees you manoeuvring your way down his body, leaving a trail of kisses behind which makes him moan again, mouth falling slack as he feels your tongue lick a clean stripe down his navel.
You brush your fingers over his inner thighs, smiling at how his cock twitches against his stomach, stroking further and further up his skin before your fingers grip his cock, hearing the slight hiss he makes through his teeth and you smile, leaning in closer to wrap your lips around his tip.
“Wait!” Mark suddenly yells out and you stop in surprise, bringing your gaze up from his cock to his face and he reaches his hand forward to cradle your check, his thumb caressing your skin. He looks like he’s in pain, but he explains, “I’ll cum too quickly if you suck my cock, like, seriously, I will cum the second I feel your tongue on me again.”
That makes you even more eager to shove his cock down your throat and you tighten your fingers around the base, causing him to throw his head back with a gasp, “I don’t mind.”
“But I do,” Mark weakly pushes your hand away and his cock slaps back against his stomach, his hips jerking upwards at the sudden contact. “Fuck—baby I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I want to cum fucking you—please, I—” He winces as his hand comes down to cup his balls, almost as if he’s trying to stop himself from cumming right there and there from his words. “I want to fuck you.”
You would awe at the sight if it wasn’t for the way he’s looking at you right now, so desperate and needy to be inside of you and you’re more than welcome to give him exactly what he wants, briefly nodding your head for confirmation and his shoulders drop with a relieved sigh.
Mark gently pushes you down on the bed to crawl above you, kneeling between your parted thighs and he almost drools at the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him to fuck. He’s quick to lean over to open the drawers of your nightstand, digging his hand inside to search around for the box of condoms he knows you have for him.
He pulls out the box and he leans back on his ankles as he dips his hand inside, and you wait patiently for him to retrieve it and roll it onto his cock, but the way his body freezes and face drops you know something is wrong and you grow concerned, leaning up on your elbows.
“Mark?”
“No, no, no,” Mark mumbles repeatedly under his breath as he turns the box upside down and shakes aggressively, praying that a condom will magically appear out of thin air and lay across the palm of his hand but it remains empty. “Jesus Christ, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
You gape at him in shock, “There’s no condoms left?”
“There’s no condoms left,” He repeats, throwing the empty box down on the bed and he runs his hand over his face in annoyance, tears of frustration prickling at his eyes. You watch as he brows pull together, how his jaw clenches and nostrils flare in anger. It was a sight you’re definitely not used to seeing, but it’s something that has your thighs clenching for some friction below. 
“Hey, it’s okay,” You try to reassure him as his cheeks get a little red and you reach up to stroke his shoulders. “We must’ve used the last one before you left to go to Japan without knowing.”
“I should’ve been prepared, you know, I should’ve bought a pack before coming here—I shouldn’t have relied on you to have the condoms but, fuck, I was just so exciting to see my girl that I didn’t even think about—”
“Baby, it’s okay.” You try to cut off his rambling by reassuring him again but it's no use.
“—And now we have nothing and I’m just—” His hands wave over his hard cock comically and you hold back a snort, watching how his fingers run through his hair with a sigh. “Okay, I should just, like, make you cum on my tongue and then I’m going to go jerk off in the—”
“No!” You shout this time, startling Mark who stares at you with wide eyes and you immediately apologise, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, baby. But you don’t need to do that, it’s okay.”
“Then what are we going to do?” He questions with a whiny tone that has your head reeling and pussy begging to be fucked. The way he’s staring at you so desperately and in pain is enough for you to come up with an idea.
“How about we just do it raw this time?”
Mark blinks, “Raw? Like, without a condom?”
“Yes.”
“Baby…” Mark sighs softly as he rubs at your thighs, “You know we can’t do that. We can’t risk anything, you know, and even though I’m certain I’m going to spend the rest of my life with my girl and start a family… we really can’t risk anything. It’s too soon and we’re both not ready for that either.”
You frown, “I know that. But nothing will happen, I promise. I’m on the pill.”
“What?”
“I’ve been on the pill for a few months,” You tell him nonchalantly and he looks at you as if you kept such a big secret away from him. “Remember that night when the condom broke and we panicked?” Mark nods his head quickly, “I went on the pill the day after that. I didn’t want us to have another scare or anything.”
“You’ve been on the pill for five months?” Mark asks you and you hum, confirming its true and he gapes in shock, dropping his gaze down to your pussy in disbelief. “So we could’ve done this five months ago?”
You struggle to hold back a laugh this time, the sound stifled by your lips. “Yes.”
“So, I can just…” Mark trails off as he shuffles forward, the tip of his cock brushing over your folds and you gasp as he flicks over your clit, thighs clamping around his hips. “I can just slide right in, feel you, fill you up.” He’s mumbling now, some words incoherent while others are clear as day, his lewdness making your face hot as his cock nudges your opening, almost teasing you by not fucking you immediately and you bite back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.
back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.
You suck in a deep breath as Mark finally pushes into you and his eyes grow wide, mouth slack as he feels the warmth of your walls fit snugly around his cock. He’s frozen above you, cock pulsing as he feels you bare for the first time and his eyes flick to yours, and his gaze suddenly darkens, his fingers pressing against the meat of your waist. 
You go to call out his name, to ask him if he’s alright but a surprised yelp flees past your lips as his hips snap forwards, burying himself deep inside of your pussy and your arms fling around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as he pants above you.
“Feel so fucking good, baby,” Mark grunts under his breath, fucking himself into you deeper and you wail, thighs clamping around his waist. “Feels so tight. All for me, yeah? Just for me. So fucking good. My pretty girl and her perfect pussy.”
“Mark.” You try to speak, stuttering over your words with each thrust, the bed creaking beneath your bodies, headboard hitting against the wall but you could care less about the noise, too surprised to see the sudden change in your boyfriend. 
His tone and his words are enough to have you gaping at him, broken moans ripping through your throat at how nasty he sounds, how he uncontrollably mutters how good your cunt feels wrapped around his cock and how wet you are for him. 
You’re not used to this. You’re used to the sweet talk, the light feathery kisses he leaves on your skin, words of sweet praises and gentle whispers of ‘i love yous’. 
You’re not complaining though. Never. 
Seeing Mark switch up just from fucking you raw for the first time has your mind spinning and electricity buzzing down your spine, fingernails digging further into his shoulder blades and clamping around him tightly, cursing him to curse.
“Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby. Tight little cunt squeezing me in so good,” Mark whispers in your ear, almost sounding like he’s whining. “My girl. My fucking girl.”
“Please,” You beg, even though you have no idea what you’re begging for. “Please, please, please.”
“Gonna fill you up, fuck you full of my cum,” Mark slurs his words, his pace quickening as his cock drills into you, his hands gripping your waist tighter when he hears you moan prettily for him. “You want that? Hm? Want me to fill you up? Fuck this cunt full?”
“Yes,” You pant heavily, tightening your legs around his hips, desperate for him to cum, to feel him deep inside. “Please.”
“Sounds so pretty when my baby begs for me,” Mark hums as he leans in to kiss your lips but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking, not allowing you to enjoy it. But you gasp when you feel his hand slide between your bodies, thumb rubbing your clit. “Gonna cum for me like I’m gonna cum for you, yeah? Want to see my girl cum for me before I fuck her pussy full.”
You’re already letting yourself go just from his words alone, your orgasm crashing over your like an aggressive wave and you body seizes up, almost sobbing from sensitivity as he fucks you through it, thumbing at your clit without any signs of stopping.
Your pussy contracts around his cock, sucking him in deeper, hugging around him tightly which causing his hips to stutter their movements, a grunt slipping past his lips before he leans back, hands sliding down your waist to grip your thighs, keeping you locked against him as he watches you squeeze around his cock, desperate to be filled.
“Good girl. Keep doing that for me. Feels so good, baby.” Mark’s moaning under his breath, airy moans turning into whines as he feels your walls tighten around him, too overwhelmed by the feeling that he stills, a throating groan leaving his lips as he cums, filling you up just as planned.
Mark’s breathing heavily, mesmerised with the way he’s emptying himself inside you, watching his cock twitch with his spurt of cum that paints your walls. He doesn’t pull away until he’s certain there’s nothing left to give, wincing out of sensitivity as he slowly leans back to pull out of you, his spent cock bobbing against his thigh.
“What was that?” You breathe out, leaning up on your elbows as you look at him. “Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know,” Mark mumbles, cheeks blossoming a bright red as he refuses to meet your gaze, that shy and sweet persona falling back into place. But he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from your pussy, mouth open wide as his fingers delicately stroke over your puffy folds. “Was… was I too much?”
“No,” You quickly shake your head, reassuring him. “I liked it.”
“Yeah?” Mark hums, finally meeting your gaze and you smile at him, nodding your head this time and he sheepishly grins back, staring down at his fingers that circle around your entrance that leaks with his cum and he makes the sudden decision to push it back in, causing you to gasp and whine softly. “Sorry… I don’t want anything to go to waste.”
You laugh lightly at his words, “Go to waste?”
“Mhm,” Mark nods, retracting his fingers and staring at the cum that covers his digits, the dark expression taking over once again as he looks right at you, “I’m never wearing a condom again, you know that right, baby?”
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©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦
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yunopouts · 5 months
Text
trick or treat - j. jaehyun
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→ jeong jaehyun x neighbour! reader
-> dilf! jaehyun au
→ CW: dom! jaehyun, breeding kink (jae's horny, i'm horny, everyone if fucking horny), age gap (reader is in mid-20’s and jae is a divorced 29yo Jae), unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, handjob, oral (f receiving), praising, pussy slapping, biting, spit kink, oral fixation (jae), there are some cringey lines (i'm sorry but i wanted to have them in there but i didn't know how else to phrase them T-T), jae's thick in this one guys :D
-> a/n: omg haii ^-^ okay so this one isn't necessarily halloween related but his kid in the fic is going trick or treating so it counts!!! Jae is DOWN BAD in this one y'all. also just an fyi, this one has a lot more dialogue since they have more of a relationship and it's not just mindless sex this time?? but there still is quite a lot of sex??? okok enjoyyyyyy
-> wc: 6k
-> upcoming: switch! yuta (playboy yuta :) will explain more on that later) psst! requests are open!!
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“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Jaehyun’s face dropped as he read the email he had just been sent. Cursing under his breath, the man pushed away from his desk and poked his head out the door. 
“Hayoung,” he said. The woman at the desk looked up at him and from the look on her face, she knew what he was going to ask.
“Sir, I’m so sorry…” and she truly did sound sincere. “Gongmyung had no other times available to meet. He’s leaving for London tomorrow morning.” 
Jaehyun pursed his lips as he nodded. He felt awful that he couldn't take Subin out tonight, but he had one idea that could make his daughter feel better. 
The man checked the watch on his wrist, reading the time as 5:30pm. If he left now, Jaehyun could be at Subin’s school for 6:15pm to pick her up from daycare, talk to her, and bring her home for 6:45pm before he had leave the house by 7:30 to be back at the office for 8:00 pm to meet the clients for dinner. 
 “Alright, I have to leave now, but I’ll be back in time for the meeting.” Hayoung looked as if she was going to object, but instead she just nodded her head. Jaehyun grabbed his jacket from his office before pulling his phone out from his pocket. As he walked to the elevator, he scrolled through his contacts, searching for your name. 
As Jaehyun stood, waiting for the elevator, his heart raced with both the urgency of the situation and the lingering nervousness he got when you spoke. His thumb hovered over the call button when he hesitated. He took a deep breath and leaned against the glass railing behind him, feeling a pang of worry gnaw at him. Would he be imposing on you once again?
The elevators hummed softly as they stopped at different floors of the building while Jaehyun debated with himself, the prospect of the impending meeting weighing heavily on his shoulders. He decided to call you, but not just for Subin’s sake, for his too.
“Hello?” Your voice on the other end had a certain warmth, and it sent a shiver down Jaehyun’s spine.
“Hey,” Jaehyun let out a sigh at the sound of your soft voice. His voice tinged with the tension that had been building in the pit of his stomach ever since he received that email.
“What’s wrong? You sound stressed.”  You grew concerned when you realised how his voice was quieter than usual.
“It’s just work stuff…” Jaehyun’s shoulders slumped. “I really hate to ask you this,” And he really did. “I was wondering if you could watch Subin tonight? I know it’s Halloween, and it’s super last minute, but I was just scheduled for a meeting, and you’re the only one she’d want to go with.” the disparity in his voice ran deep, but you didn’t have any plans anyways, so why not?
“Of course, Jae.” You said, and the man sighed with relief. “What did she dress up as for school?” The calmness in your voice soothed Jaehyun’s nerves. The elevator sounded as it arrived. After the doors opened, Jaehyun entered and leaned against the wall as he felt a strange mix of emotions. 
“She decided she was going to be Elsa and when we went trick or treating, she wanted me to be Anna.” There was a moment of silence, but Jaehyun already knew what was about to happen. As the man closed his eyes momentarily, you burst out laughing on the other line.
“You were really going to dress up as Anna for her?” you asked, your voice was laced with amusement that made Jaehyun chuckle. 
“It was either that or Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame.” A hand ran over Jaehyun’s face in embarrassment, remembering the conversation he had with his seven year old daughter last month when they were discussing costume ideas. 
“What, did she want to be Esmerelda?” you asked with a scoff.
“No, she wanted to be Laverne.” Jaehyun groaned, wondering from whom his daughter gets her ideas from.
“The gargoyle?” you cried. You held the phone away from your ear as you laughed loudly, clutching your stomach. 
“Yeah,” the man replied, looking at his shoes with a smile, the sound of your laughter resonating with him. “How much do you want me to pay you?” he asked as he walked out the elevator and to the entryway of the building. He waved to the secretaries and to those who greeted him with a smile.
You tried to reason with him, arguing that you didn’t need the extra compensation, but Jaehyun’s insistence on repaying your kindness only heightened the nagging tensions between the two of you.
“Jae, you really don’t have to, you know I’d do anything for you guys.” Your voice was gentle, “You know I feel bad asking you to watch her without paying you.” Jaehyun’s voice dropped lower, carrying an undertone of a deeper emotion with it. 
As he exited the building, silently thanking the valet driver for his keys.
“But I’m telling you that you don’t have to.”
Your attempt to reason with him was met with Jaehyun’s unwavering determination. “We’ll talk about it later.”
With no room for further discussion, you conceded, “I’ll see you at seven, then.”
“I’ll see you then.” Jaehyun confirmed, the tension settled down thickly in the air.
“Bye, Jae.” You said softly. 
“Bye, y/n.” Jaehyun replied, the sudden strain in his voice giving way to a sense of longing as he entered his car.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, Jaehyun gripped the steering wheel and looked down, feeling a slight strain in his pants. “Jesus fucking Christ…” the man muttered. “What am I, twelve?” his head fell back against the headrest in frustration. 
Jaehyun rolled down the window before he began to drive, in hopes that the cold breeze would clear his mind of the thought of you, and focus on what was more important: trying to find a way to tell Subin that he can’t take her trick or treating. 
-
By the time Jaehyun had parked in the school parking lot, he had nothing. He still didn’t know how to tell his daughter the news. Taking a deep breath, Jaehyun pushed open the car door and got out of the vehicle before locking it and heading to the waiting area. 
Minutes later, the bell rang and children of all ages flooded out the doors. Jaehyun stood amidst the sea of children pouring out of the school, his eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar little girl in an Elsa costume. He spotted her soon enough, her blonde wig glistening in the autumn sun, and a smile spread across his face. Subin was chatting excitedly with her friends, and he knew he had to break the news gently. 
He approached her, kneeling down to her eye level. “Hey, princess,” he greeted her with a warm smile. 
Subin’s face lit up at the sight of her father. “Daddy!” she squeaked and launched herself into his arms. Jaehyun laughed as he almost stumbled onto the floor, but his arms wrapped around his daughter tightly. 
“Come on, let’s get you to the car.” Jaehyun stood up carefully with his daughter still in his arms. As he walked, Jaehyun sucked in a deep breath before he told his daughter the bad news. “Subin, about tonight…”
The girl looked up at him with curious eyes. “What is it, Daddy?”
Jaehyun cleared his throat, trying to find the right words. “Well, I know how much you were looking forward to trick or treating tonight, and I was really excited too, but something came up at word.” He paused, gauging her reaction.
Subin’s smile faded, and her brows furrowed. “Do you have a meeting tonight, Daddy?”
Jaehyun’s heart felt like it was breaking off piece by piece. “I’m so sorry sweetheart, I tried to reschedule it for later, I really did, but it didn’t work out.” Jaehyun frowned, but his daughter smiled. 
“It’s okay, Daddy. Do you think you’ll be back to watch HalloweenTown with me?”
“I’ll do my best, okay? I promise I’ll make it up to you sweetheart.” Jaehyun promises. “Until I come back home, I asked the lady from the floor below us to watch you, you remember her, right?”
“The pretty lady you invite over every weekend? I remember her.” Subin nodded, unaware of how red her fathers ears had turned.
“She doesn’t come over every weekend.” Jaehyun mumbled, looking away from his daughter as they arrived in front of the car. 
“She does… Dohwa even asked me if she was my mom.”
“Oh…” he replied simply. Jaehyun stayed silent as he sat his daughter in the booster seat behind the passenger’s side, the thought almost consuming him. 
Dohwa asked if she was her mom…
After he clicked her seatbelt in, Jaehyun shut the door and headed for the driver’s seat, still entirely thinking of you… as a mother…
The man paused right as he was about to open the door when he felt the same stiffness from earlier, and he had to stop himself from screaming curses at the sky. Jaehyun closed his eyes and swallowed harshly before he opened his eyes and entered the car like nothing had happened to him.
“Daddy, can we listen…”
“Of course,” Jaehyun gave his daughter a smile through the rearview mirror. He knew exactly what the kid was asking for, and with a few presses of some buttons, the intro of the infamous ‘Let it Go’ from the Frozen soundtrack was blasting from the speakers, and Subin was belting out the words.
The rest of the ride was filled with more Frozen, which consisted of duets, the respective solo’s of both Jaehyun and Subin, and the booing of Hans whenever he sang in Love is an Open Door. 
Jaehyun had arrived at the condo building at 6:45pm, “Right on schedule,” he said to himself as he walked to the other side of the car to help his daughter out of the car. “Come on, sweetie,” he said, lifting her into his arms. With how adorable she was in her Elsa costume, he was determined to make it up to her for the missed trick or treating.
After a quick elevator ride, they reached his penthouse. The elegant, modern space was impeccably decorated, a reflection of Jaehyun’s refined taste. 
“What d’ya want to eat before the pretty lady gets here, Miss Elsa?” Jaehyun asks Subin, who was already halfway to the kitchen. He followed behind her and held the door open for her as she entered. “Goldfish…” she said hungrily, causing a laugh to escape from Jaehyun’s lips.
“Goldfish it is, then.” The man took a bowl from one of the cabinet’s before he scanned his pantry for the snack that was requested. While Jaehyun looked, he heard Subin squeal with excitement. A mix of confusion and concern churned through Jaehyun, so he tried to be quick with his search and found them on the top shelf. 
“Subin, I found them…” Jaehyun stopped in his tracks when his eyes found yours.
“Hey Jae,” you smiled, your insides twisting at his current state. He’d come from the office, you knew that already, but seeing him in that suit definitely messed with you a bit.
“Hey,” Jaehyun couldn’t help the way his heart raced at the mere sight of you. You were holding a neatly folded Anna costume in your arms, and the smile you gave him made his heart skip a beat. “You’re early.” he said. Although he looked quite distracted, Jaehyun still managed to pour Subin her goldfish and hand the bowl to her.
“Yeah, I just thought I’d come by a little early to see if Subin needed help with her costume.” Your innocence warmed Jaehyun and forced a smile onto his lips.
“That’s really thoughtful, thank you.’
“Don’t even mention it.” you said.
“Pretty lady, are you going to put your costume on now?” Subin interjected while she munched on the small crackers. 
Jaehyun shuddered lightly, realising his daughter had just watched that whole interaction, even though she probably didn’t register what was going on. 
At least that’s what you both hoped.
“Oh! Yes, yes, I will go do that. So, give me a few minutes, yeah?” you winked at her which earned you a big grin from the little girl.
“You can change in the guest bathroom.” Jaehyun blurts. “I’ll show you where it is.”
“Yeah, yeah, sounds good.”
Jaehyun walked out first, but it didn’t take long for you to catch up to him. You walked silently up the stairs and down the hall until you reached the room. 
“Let me know if you need anything,” he said.
You thank him before you enter the bathroom, one you’ve definitely seen before. You set the costume down on the counter and begin to undress. Everything was going well until it came down to actually doing up the back of the dress.
“Jaehyun?” you raised your voice ever so slightly, just to check if he was still there, and in a heartbeat there was a soft knock on the door. 
“You called?” His voice was a bit muffled from being on the other side of the door, but you opened the door, finding him leaning against the door frame. 
“Could you help me with this?” you asked with a hand across your chest to keep your dress from falling. 
Jaehyun looked away from your eyes, suddenly feeling very warm in the face and ears. “Yeah, could I come in?”
You moved so he had room to enter, and you shut the door almost immediately after and locked the door. Your back was facing Jaehyun, but you were watching him through the mirror. You felt bold until his dark eyes met yours in the reflection, and since then, his gaze didn’t leave yours.His heart raced as he looked into your eyes, and his fingers trembled slightly as he began to tie the strings at the back of your dress. 
The tension in the air only grew stronger as his fingers brushed lightly against your skin, and your breath hitched. You couldn’t help but steal a glance over your shoulder, meeting Jaehyun’s gaze once again.
“Done…” he gulped, holding your stare. It was a moment where words were no longer necessary, and the attraction between you two was undeniable.
Jaehyun leaned in closer, his lips brushed against the nape of your neck. Your heart raced, and you tilted your head slightly, granting him access to your skin. His kisses were gentle, sending shivers down your spine, and his arms which had wrapped around your waist, had become your new form of support. 
As he continued to trail soft, lingering kisses along your neck, Jaehyun whispered, “You’re making it hard for me to focus on anything other than you.”
You turn around to face him, your lips dangerously close to his. “Maybe that’s the point,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eyes. 
With a surge of longing, Jaehyun closed the small distance between your lips and his. The kiss was passionate and electric, and yet still so familiar from the previous ones you’ve shared from almost every weekend for the past three months.
One of Jaehyun’s hands cupped your cheek as the other snaked down to your waist, pulling you in closer. He felt the heat of your body merge with his, and his heart raced as he deepened the kiss. Your hands were tangled in his hair, and the taste of his lips sent a wave of euphoria through your body. 
Jaehyun pulled away, but only slightly. His forehead was still pressed against yours, and he whispered, "I could kiss you like this forever."
Your lips curled into a small smile and you replied, "I wouldn't mind it."
With that, Jaehyun kissed you again, and this time it was more desperate, more passionate. He moved his lips hungrily against yours, exploring and tasting your mouth. You let out a soft moan as his hands moved to your lower back, and your kiss became more passionate.
His hands moved to the small of your back, and he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. You felt the warmth of his body against yours, and you melted into his embrace. 
He carried you to the counter, and sat you down on the cold marble, and your arms tightly wrapped around him. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, and the intensity of the kiss was enough to make your head spin. You felt like you were in some kind of trance, and you welcomed it with all your heart.
With his hips in between your legs, you reached out your hand to palm his growing erection through his pants. Jaehyun pulled away from the kiss, letting his head fall back in pleasure.
“God, baby, I got hard twice today because of you.” You hummed in response, slowly undoing Jaehyun’s belt and freeing his cock from his boxers. Bringing your hand to your mouth, you spit into it before lubing up his dick with it.
You started to move your hand up and down, slowly stroking his shaft and Jaehyun let out a low moan. His eyes were closed and he was breathing heavily, his hips starting to move in time with your hand. 
Your hand closed over the tip, stroking it in circular motions before you moved your hand to jerk off the rest of his length. You increased the speed of your hand, Jaehyun's breathing getting heavier with each stroke. You could feel how hard he had gotten, and you smiled as you continued to pleasure him. Feeling your spit start to dry up, you started to use more of your hand, your fingers tracing circles around the head of his cock. Jaehyun's hands were gripping the material of your costume tightly, and you could feel his hips twitching with each of your strokes. 
You moved your hand faster, your thumb now rubbing circles around Jaehyun's most sensitive spot, and he let out a loud moan as he was about to cum, but before he could, a timer went off.
“Fucking christ,” You both sighed out of disappointment, and Jaehyun rested his forehead against yours.
"I have to go," he said, regretfully. He quickly fixed himself up and helped you off the counter.
“What if you’re still hard during your meeting, though?” You joke while your fingers toyed with his belt loops. 
He chuckled, and kissed you one last time before reluctantly pulling away.
“I’ll figure something out." You pouted, and he leaned in to give you one last peck on the lips before he grabbed his phone and unlocked the door. "I'll see you soon. I promise." He said before slipping out of the door. 
You sighed and smiled to yourself, savouring the moment. You felt more alive than ever.
Sliding off the counter, you turned and inspected your face to make sure you didn’t go back to Subin looking like a hot mess. 
“Pretty lady!” Subin yelled as you walked down the stairs. The young girl squealed as she ran to wait for you at the edge of the steps. She gushed at you once you had fully arrived in front of you. “You look so pretty!”
“Thank you sweetheart.” you said as you ruffled her hair. “Ready to go?” you asked her with a grin. Subin nodded frantically and grabbed your hand before she darted towards the elevator, her candy bag in the other hand waiting to be filled to the brim with treats.
“Trick or treating!” she cheered and jumped with excitement, and your heart warmed at the sight.
-
“Thank you so much for your time Gongmyung.” Jaehyun smiled as he shook the older man's hand. 
“Of course! The pitch was great, so our lawyers will be in contact with yours very shortly.” 
Jaehyun saw the man out of the smile and one final bow before he looked down at his watch. It was 9:30pm.
‘They should be home by now.’ Jaehyun thought as he got in his car and began to drive home. 
It only took him about twenty minutes to get home from the restaurant, and by the time he reached the penthouse, he found you sitting on the couch with his daughter sleeping peacefully next to you, her head resting on your thigh. 
“Hey,” you smiled up at him. Jaehyun mirrored your expression as he sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 
“When did she pass out?” Jaehyun’s fingers drew circles against your arm as you leaned into him. 
“About an hour ago? She already brushed her teeth, we were just watching The Nightmare Before Christmas.” Jaehyun looked at you, his brows scrunched closer together.
“Is that not a Christmas movie?” 
“Tsk… no one knows what it is or isn’t.” you said, jutting out your bottom lip before Jaehyun pecked your cheek. “I think I’m gonna put Subin to bed… show me to her room?” You slowly moved in a way that wouldn’t disturb the little girl too badly, and you brought her to your chest and rested her head on your shoulder. Both you and Jaehyun stood and you cautiously walked up the stairs and down the hall. 
Jaehyun opened the door, revealing a baby pink room with toys and stuffed animals astray. 
“This room is so…”
“Scary?”
“Her,” you shot Jaehyun a dirty look which made him laugh. “Not too loud, idiot.” you scolded him when you felt Subin stir at the loud noise. Cradling her head, you ordered Jaehyun to pull her bed covers back. Gently, you set the girl down before tucking her in. You stepped back to watch Jaehyun crouch beside her head and plant a light kiss on forehead. He sat there for a few seconds, rubbing her cheek with his thumb. With one last peck goodnight, he got up and smiled softly at you before he took your hand in his and led you out of the room.
With the lights off in Subin’s room and her door shut, the two of you stood in the hallway, staring into each other’s eyes. 
“Thank you, again, for watching her.” Jaehyun stepped closer to you. You noticed how his tone dropped, how his hands squeezed yours gently, and how his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. 
“Like I’ve said, you don’t have to thank me… but you can show me your appreciation in a different way.” you teased and hooked your fingers around his belt loop like you did earlier.
Jaehyun smirked devilishly, leaning in to kiss your neck. His hands moved around your waist, dipping lower until he cupped your ass. 
As he trailed kisses along your neck, he paused to nibble and suck on your sensitive skin. His hands moved up your back, tugging your hips even closer to his. You felt your own arousal growing as his lips moved from your neck to your lips, his tongue pushing its way into your mouth. You moaned against his lips as your hands found their way into his hair, fingers curling around the strands of his hair. 
“We shouldn’t do this out here…” you said breathlessly, and Jaehyun groaned in agreement.
He pulled away and took your hand, leading you to the guest room. Your pulse was racing as he pushed open the door, and you both stepped inside. He pulled you close and kissed you deeply, while your hands moved to the back of his neck, tugging him in closer as your lips moved together in an urgent, passionate kiss. His hands travelled their way down your body, exploring your curves as you explored his. He trailed kisses down your neck, making you gasp as his teeth lightly grazed your skin. You groaned in pleasure as you felt his erection growing against your belly.
He grabbed your hair and pulled it back, his face hovering close to yours. "Tell me what you want," he growled.
You bit your lip and smiled, your desire rising with each passing second. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to whisper in his ear, "I need you to fuck me."
He groaned and pulled you closer, his hands roaming your body. His lips brushed against your ear as he responded in a chuckle, “Waited all day for you to say that to me.”
In an instant, Jaehyun brought you towards the bed, a fire raging in his eyes. You were both eager to get undressed, and you started with his shirt. You reached to undo the buttons of his suit and slowly started undoing them, never breaking away from his embrace. Jaehyun’s breaths were heavy and rushed as you finally released his shirt and pulled it off his body. 
His hands moved to your shirt and he proceeded to do the same with you, slowly pulling your shirt off and tossing it aside. He grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, his lips finding yours again. His hands were frantic as they roamed your body, the intensity of his kiss growing with each passing moment.
He leaned back and pulled you with him, the two of you standing there in nothing but your underwear. His eyes were ablaze with desire and he stepped forward, pushing you back onto the bed. He leaned over you and slowly trailed his lips down your body, his hands massaging your curves as he made his way down.
He pulled back and looked into your eyes, his own filled with a primal hunger. With one hand, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his lips finding yours again as the other hand found itself making its way down your navel, all the way to your pussy. His thumb took to your clit, drawing small circles on it.
The friction felt electric, you couldn’t help but shiver at his cold hands touching such sensitive parts. A soft moan escaped your lips as your hips involuntarily arched towards his touch. His thumb moved faster, increasing the intensity of the pleasure. You felt pleasure radiating through your body, slowly building to an unstoppable force. Your breathing became shallow, your heart raced, and all you could do was surrender to the sensations. His thumb began to move with more intensity, each circle growing wider and wider. His touch was gentle yet demanding, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. The hand that had your wrists in a tight grip suddenly let go, but it moved to your hip and he grabbed firmly, steadying you as his thumb continued to bring you closer to the edge. 
You could feel his breath against your neck, his fingers digging into your hips as he moved them. Suddenly, he slapped you hard on your pussy and you gasped in surprise. The repeated action brought you close to tears. As your jaw hung open from a mix of surprise and pleasure, Jaehyun saw this as the perfect opportunity to do the thing you love. Hovering just slightly over your mouth, he let his saliva drop into your mouth, and he watched with a smirk as your jaw shut immediately, swallowing what he gave you. 
His tongue soon found its way into your mouth, and you tasted the bitterness of his spit as it mingled with yours. His hands moved with purpose, sending waves of pleasure cascading through your body. 
You could feel the anticipation building in your body, and you could barely contain the moans that escaped your lips. You were so close to the pinnacle of pleasure, and his touch was the only thing that could get you there.
“Fuck, Jae… oh fuck.” you said as a signal to him that you were cumming. If that didn’t tell him, then the way your body shook definitely did. 
Not long after you came, Jaehyun sat himself in between your legs. Both of his hands moved to your thighs, pushing them apart as he knelt in front of you. He looked up at you with pure adoration and started to kiss and lick your inner thighs. 
Jaehyun kept one arm around your hips while the other explored your pussy, fingering you slowly. You gasped and hissed in pleasure as he teased your sensitive areas. He moved his mouth to your pussy and started to lick and suck in a tantalising rhythm. His tongue moved in slow circles, alternating between soft and hard strokes. 
The arm he kept around your wait found itself lazily dragging from your waist, up to your breasts. His nimble fingers squeezed and teased your nipples, not helping the fact that you were trying to keep your voice down– even though you were several rooms down from his daughter.
The back of your hand moved to cover your mouth as you moaned, while the other grabbed his head, pushing him deeper into you. He bit down on your labia and licked the sensitive skin around your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Jaehyun moved his fingers inside you, pushing them in and out in a steady rhythm, his thumb finding the spot that sent sensations of pleasure through your body. 
He then began to massage your clit with his tongue, circling it slowly and then faster and faster until you felt your toes curl in anticipation. His hands moved down to your hips, holding you tightly as he increased the pressure and speed of his tongue. 
You felt your muscles tensing and your breathing becoming more rapid as you got closer to the edge. His fingers moved faster and faster, stimulating you in all the right places. You moaned and gasped as your orgasm finally overcame you, your body shaking in pleasure.
“Came so quick.” Jaehyun stated, slowly moving his mouth back up to yours and kissed you passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands moved to your waist. 
He grabbed your hips and spread your legs wider, pushing his hard cock inside of you. He moved slowly at first, letting out a guttural moan as he entered you. 
He moved his hips in a circular motion, pushing himself deeper into you as he felt your tight walls stretching around his thickness. He felt as if he was being consumed by a blanket of pleasure, and he loved the feeling of being completely surrounded by you. With each movement, you could feel him stretching you out further, and the sensation made his body tremble with delight. 
“Fuck, baby, you’re doing so fucking well.” His breathing quickened as he felt the sensation of being fully engulfed inside of you, and the sensation of pleasure coursing through his body. He felt as if he were melting into you, becoming one with you as he moved faster and faster. 
He added a new layer of pleasure to his movements, as he sucked and licked on your nipples while he continued to thrust. His tongue felt like velvet on your skin, teasing and tantalising you with every movement. His hands moved to your back, caressing it with every thrust. 
You grasped his shoulders tightly as the sensations built up inside, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Finally, you threw your head back and let out a loud moan as you reached your climax, your pleasure washing over you. Jaehyun’s breathing became heavier, and you could feel his muscles tense up, his whole body shaking with pleasure.
“Fuck baby…” Jaehyun groaned, looking down at your pussy. “You’re so fucking full.” he bit his lip to stop himself from showing his smile, but it was useless– Jaehyun was grinning from ear to ear with pride. He watched as his cum dripped out of you, but with two fingers, he took whatever had leaked and shoved it back into you.
“Hey,” you said, grabbing his attention with his fingers still inside of you. “You gonna fuck me full of your cum, or what?”
Jaehyun almost lost it. Asking that of him was not the smartest idea, considering the fact that he’d do anything you told him to.
“Is this you asking to have my second kid? We’re not even together.” He joked as he sat himself with his back against his headboard. 
You knew what that meant.
Getting on your knees, you crawled on top of him and positioned yourself above his still very hard cock.
“I could do both…” you say without another thought.
“Oh baby,” he said, voice more seductive than you’ve heard before. “I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll get pregnant right away.” And with that, he thrust upwards, shoving his thick cock into you.
You exclaimed in surprise, eyes going wide, but your hands flew to his shoulder, stabilising yourself as he moved inside of you. He moved long and slow, his hips rolling against yours, and you felt your pleasure building with each thrust. He reached down and grabbed your ass, squeezing the soft flesh as began to pick up his pace. His breathing became ragged as he went deeper and deeper into you. 
His hands moved higher, gently caressing your breasts, his lips lightly sucking and licking them. His fingers moved lower, rubbing and teasing your clit, and his tongue licked and sucked your nipples.
“Fuck, just look at you, your fucking tits bouncing…” he mumbled, his mouth watering at the sight. “Gonna get you pregnant with my baby, and your tits are gonna be so fucking big.” Jaehyun moaned at the thought. You felt his tongue flick against your nipples, and you gasped in pleasure as he teased them with his mouth.
As he sucked on your nipples, Jaehyun started to pick up the pace, pushing himself in and out of you. His hips moved in a perfect rhythm, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your breath coming in ragged gasps. 
You could feel the heat building inside you as he continued to move. His hand moved down, rubbing against your clit as he moved, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. His thrusts were getting harder, and faster, and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.
Just then, he pulled out of you and flipped you over onto your back. He stared into your eyes, holding your gaze as he penetrated you again. “Fuck Jaehyun, I need your cum.” You whined. His thrusts were more forceful now, and you could feel yourself moaning louder and louder as he continued to move inside of you.
He then started to move one of his hands up and down your body, playing with your nipples and lightly caressing your breasts. His tongue lapped at them, and you felt your body tense up as he sucked on them. He moved the other hand down to your clit again, rubbing it in circles as he moved inside of you. 
“Need to get you so fucking full.” Jaehyun spoke aimlessly as he fucked your cunt, his thrusts growing harsher by the second. You hummed at his words, equally as brainless as he was from the stimulation. 
You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and Jaehyun increased his thrusts, pushing himself deeper inside of you. He grabbed your hips and held you tight, pushing himself deep inside of you. You screamed out in pleasure, your orgasm ripping through your body, and he followed shortly behind, his body shaking in pleasure.
His moans grew louder and his thrusts became more intense, the pleasure becoming too much for him to handle. He felt his orgasm build up inside of him, and as he reached the peak, he let out a cry of pure ecstasy. Jaehyun slowly pulled out of you before he laid beside you.
Turning to face him, you both lay there for a few moments, your breathing ragged and your hearts pounded in your chests.
“I meant what I said…” Jaehyun said, his thoughts now cleared from his prior state of mind. “About being together. The baby too, but that can come later.”
“I like that idea,” you hummed and pressed your lips to his.
3K notes · View notes
jaylaxies · 6 months
Text
THE ONLY EXCEPTION
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PAIRING: haechan × fem!reader
GENRE/CW: smut, brother’s best friend trope, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), cunnilingus, penetration, breeding, usage of nicknames, themes of jealousy, mentions of mark (brother) and other dreamies, mentions of yunjin from le sserafim, Imk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 10k words
SYNOPSIS: mark was an overprotective brother and he didn’t fail to show it, warning all the guys to stay away from you, his best friends were no exception. so, how will you make it work when you return back after graduating school, only to find that your crush is paying more attention to you than ever? it most certainly doesn’t help that it’s lee donghyuck, to whom, you are strictly off limits.
WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni
A/N: hihi, my loves <3 i finally wrote a fic for the loml hyuckie <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33
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The music blasting from the speakers, reverberating around the room full of university students, the wretched smell of alcohol mixed with cigarettes lingered in the air as your sharp eyes adorned with perfectly winged liner focused around the room, greeting everyone who was shocked to find you at the party. 
It felt good to be back. 
Leaving for a boarding school wasn’t on your bucket list, yet it was an opportunity you couldn’t miss, the school being a prestigious one with a degree that would only be helpful in the future, which left you no choice but to disappear for three years, only to suddenly reappear today, straight making an appearance at the party. 
“Told you, your celebrity status is still intact,” Yunjin winked at you, her being the only friend who was stubborn enough to not break contact with you, and you loved her for the same. 
Raising your brow at her, you took another swing of beer which you had loosely gripped in your hand, “it’s not mine, it all belongs to my brother,” you said, “I don’t want this attention, especially when it’s only valid because I’m Mark’s sister who had a glow up over my time of not being in the town.”
Your brother was well known in the university—the same university which you’d be attending soon along with the people who also attended the same middle school as you, however, his reputation preceded him as he, along with his friends, had turned into the group all girls desired to be with, yet they never let anyone stick around for long. 
Settling down wasn’t their forte. 
People snogging around every corner of the house wasn’t a sight you were willing to witness, granted you had a long flight and were tired. Not having any ride back home was another factor which made you approach your brother—who wasn’t locked up in a room with some girl for once. 
“I wanna go home,” you huffed, standing next to Mark, who was quick to excuse himself from the conversation he was having. 
“I can’t drive you back, I’m buzzed dude,” he says, “my baby sis is all grown up,” he looks your way, patting your head before you step back, disgusted at his overly affectionate big brother act. 
He acted as if everything was normal when in reality, he was the one who always deprived you of every single thing, not allowing you to go out, not allowing you to meet boys, and most importantly, not letting his friends interact with you.
“Ew, drink this and sober up.” You passed on the water bottle in your hand to him, “how am I supposed to go back? Should I take a cab?” 
“No, that’s not safe. You wait here, I’ll get my friend to drop you off,” he asked you to wait by the front door. 
The shock on your face was evident, yet it was better to get a ride with one of his friends rather than fending for yourself this late at night. With a nonchalant nod, you walked away, waiting by the door. 
It wasn’t hard for Mark to find his group, they were sprawled across the sofa as if they owned it, surrounded by girls sitting around them; or on their lap. 
“Who’s not drunk here?” He asked, straight up eliminating Jeno from the list, who was taking big gulps from his can, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, “minus Jeno.”
Haechan was quick to ignore the girl who was leaning down to kiss him, eyes tired yet lined with the perfect amount of eyeliner—a look he went for whenever a party was concerned. 
“I am sober. Driver duties, why?” He asked. 
Even though there was nothing but truth in his words, it would be hard to accept it, provided that his eyes were the perfect shade of brown which harboured the ideal amount of brightness during the day, and just the exact amount of intoxication at night. 
“I had one beer,” Jaemin said, sitting with a bored expression on his face, probably not in the mood to entertain the girls at the given moment, unlike Jeno and Renjun, who basked in the attention of them. 
“Y/n wants to go back home,” Mark explained, grabbing another can of beer, “and I obviously can’t go to drop her off.”
“Y/n? Is she back?” Hyuck asked, playing with his silver rings before unbuttoning the top of his black button up, exposing his chain clad neck and clavicle, which was valid given how hot the room was. 
“Yeah, she came back in the afternoon today. Jaem can you drop her back home?” Jaemin chuckles at the offended look Haechan threw his way. 
“Of course man,” Jaemin agreed. 
“He’s drunk too, in case you overlooked that, I’m the sober one right now,” Hyuck said, pointing out the obvious. 
“Yeah, dude there’s no way I’m letting you go alone with my sister,” Mark laughed, “lord knows you can’t keep it in your pants,” he added. 
Hyuck was quick to raise his eyebrow, scoffing, pushing his tongue inside his cheek, “and he can?” He asked, pointing at Jaemin. 
“He knows where to draw a line, unlike you, and she’s my baby sister, I’m not risking anything,” Mark explained enthusiastically, as if it was a joke, because it caused an uproar of laughter, which only infuriated Hyuck more. 
“I know when to stop,” he said, annoyed. 
“You didn’t know that when you fucked principal’s daughter,” Jeno provided. 
“And when you did so in his office, with cameras installed,” Renjun not so helpfully added. 
Hyuck agrees that they were right to a certain extent, but their lack of trust was always something that bothered him. If there was someone who actually didn’t know where to stop, that would be them, because he did not appreciate the insults thrown his way. 
It also didn’t help how he genuinely wanted to see you, but now his mood was ruined, courtesy of Mark. 
Mark then proceeded to list out a few more things as to prove that Hyuck wasn’t fit for being anywhere close to his sister, “I don’t trust you with her,” he shrugged, asking Jaemin to drop you off and ending the conversation. 
Meanwhile, it had been a solid seven minutes and twenty six seconds since you started waiting for Mark’s friend to come and pick you up, and you made sure to put the time into good use by observing your surroundings yet again. 
In the farther right corner, you spotted your old crush, Park Sunghoon, who was in your ethics class. He never paid attention to you, granted your brother made sure to warn the whole school population that you were off limits. 
You couldn’t deny, it was good to see him happy and you swore you noticed him giggling too, talking to your old classmate, who you remember, was called Moon—one of the beauties of your school, before he pulled her into a sweet kiss. 
Your observation was cut short when one of Mark’s friends, whom you had not seen in the past three years appeared in front of you with a small smile. Na Jaemin, he was charming from the bottom to the top. 
“Welcome back, Y/n,” he smiled, voice slutry, which came naturally to him. 
You offered him a smile in return, shamelessly checking him out, he had gotten buff. You were not expecting him to come here, but then again, your subconscious wanted to see that one boy whose eyes reminded you of honey. 
You wondered how he looked now. Does he even remember you? A sigh left your glossy lips as you admitted that you still might have a teeny tiny crush on Lee Haechan after all this while, and deep inside, you wished to see him again. 
With a smile, you followed him to the car as he engaged you in a conversation. It was probably the first time he had been given the permission to interact with you, and even he couldn’t deny, he loved to see the development, the confidence that you had come back with. 
While you were getting back home, Haechan was fuming with anger, kicking the pavement as he had left the party, his mind formulating ideas for a plausible revenge against everyone. He was rebellious, he’d give himself that, yet in the depth of his heart, he meant well, not wanting to hurt anyone intentionally, only for the sake of having unharmed fun. 
It wasn’t as if his friends were any different, so why should he be the one who’s labelled to be the worst of them all? This time, he wanted to hurt someone on purpose, the someone being Mark Lee. 
Solution? Get as close to you as humanly possible—which would also mean that he’d have to work to get a place in your heart. But he didn’t mind it, especially when he had liked you all this while. 
Mark wanted him to stay away? Tough luck because Hyuck wanted you. 
Thinking about you reminded him of when you first met through Mark, he had priorly informed everyone to stay away from you, despite the fact you were in fifth grade, almost isolating you from the world. However, it wasn’t enough for Hyuck to stop greeting you with his gummy smiles, which caused you to smile back at him too. 
That’s the most exchange you guys have had over these years. Hyuck was gonna change that, and so, he found himself walking towards your house, knowing well that Mark won’t be around to stop him, and your parents would be deep asleep given that it was past midnight. 
Climbing up your room wasn’t hard, especially when he was aware of the ladder kept in your backyard, but being silent after entering your room through a window was tough. 
The lights were dim, just how you liked it when you slept. With a few steps, Hyuck reached your bed, eyes fixated on your sleeping figure. 
A small, genuine smile graced his face when he noticed the small pout on your moisturized lips. Adorable—that’s how he perceived you, yet there was no denying how much you had grown up to be prettier than ever, and he couldn’t help but caress your cheek with his thumb, even the slightest touch making you stir in your sleep, causing him to chuckle. 
He had to have you. 
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You weren’t sure if it was a dream or had Hyuck actually visited you at night, though, the latter idea seemed nothing less than a delusion. Maybe it was your brain playing tricks with you, but it wasn’t your biggest concern at the given moment as you wanted nothing more than to freshen up and eat. 
What you did not expect was to see your mom catering the four boys sprawled across your living room, the guy in your dream wasn’t anywhere to be seen still. 
“Good morning, sweetheart,” your mom sweetly pulled you in her embrace, gaining the attention of your brother and his friends, who were sitting together playing some video games. 
“Good morning, mum,” you smiled, having missed her while you were away for school. 
“Yo, I almost forgot you were back for a second,” Mark commented as your mom asked everyone to sit down. 
You looked at him with a sour expression, “yeah, right. Cause there was no one to tell you that you’re wearing two different designs of socks,” you pointed out, getting a snigger out of Jeno, who passed you a sweet smile when you looked his way, averting his gaze within a second, a habit of all his friends who weren’t allowed to stare at you. 
“Or that you’re wearing your T-shirt inside out,” you scrunch your nose as others see a very clueless Mark trying to get everything in order, your mom also amused by the sudden liveliness in the home, “no, but how are you this unaware about yourself?” You mused. 
Mark didn’t get to reply or whine when the front door opened to reveal the guy of your dreams, quite literally. 
Lee Haechan came into the room as if he owned the place, your eyes fixated on his messy hair as he said hello to your mother, who was more than happy to see him here. 
Hyuck was her favourite out of all Mark’s friends. 
Other guys were quick to apologize to Hyuck, you wondered why, and Mark had apparently apologized on text last night for crossing the line. 
He looked carefree and unbothered, so you didn’t ponder upon it much till he sat down next to you for breakfast, finally looking in your eyes. 
You blinked once, focusing on his eyes which looked like they had honey swirling around them, his skin was tanned to the prettiest shade as he passed you a small smile, “hey, Y/n,” he acknowledged your presence, lips almost upturned into what seemed to be a smirk. 
For a second, you couldn’t quite focus as you were too enthralled observing the beauty marks scattered across his face, his plump pink lips—
Yeah, that thought shook you awake, “hey, Haechan,” you greeted back, thinking that calling him Hyuck might just be too friendly. 
“So, are we on for our trip tomorrow?” Jaemin asked, cutting your interaction short. 
“Wait, what trip?” You asked, knowing that your parents were gonna be out for a business trip too, and you weren’t one to enjoy being home alone in such a big house. 
“Didn’t Mark tell you?” Your mom asked and shook your head, throwing an accusatory look his way, “They all are having a stay in at Hyuck’s beach house.”
“And me? Am I supposed to be staying alone for what—how many days?” You asked. 
“A week,” Mark informed, unaffected. 
“I’m not staying home alone for a whole week, mum, this isn’t fair.” The distress was clear on your face. 
“Call your friends over then,” your mom suggested. 
“For a week? We’d rather go out for vacation too,” you pouted, not noticing the stare of two boys. 
“Join the trip with Mark then,” she recommended, placing the fluffy pancake on your plate. 
“What? Why? No,” Mark protested and the room bursted into a web of chaos with everyone discussing it. 
Only Hyuck was silent, his eyes still on your face, admiring your side view shamelessly, but also careful not to give out his intentions in front of Mark. 
“It’s a boys trip, mom. Y’know? Boy stuff,” he winced, trying to explain without explaining that all they planned on doing was drink, smoke and invite girls over, “guys, tell them?”
“Yeah—he’s right,” they all agreed, not maintaining eye contact, looking at each other awkwardly. 
“Okay, since the beach house is Hyuck’s, why don’t we let him decide?” Your mom sighs, looking at Hyuck. 
Now that the sole attention is on him, he tries to act clueless with a helpless look on his face, especially when you are looking at him with big eyes, lower lip jutting out in a pout. 
Then he looked back at his friends, who clearly wanted the girl to go, minus Mark at least. Lastly, he looked at your mom, who only smiled, and that was enough of an excuse for Hyuck to say with the sweetest smile—
“Of course, Y/n and her friend are always invited.”
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“He said yes,” you were on the phone, explaining the whole situation to Yunjin, knowing well that she’d be more than ready to accompany you for your rendezvous. 
“He what?” She exclaimed, knowing that the boys would never take your side, especially in front of Mark. 
“I know, mom sorta helped cause Haechan never says no to mom, it’s like he’s her favourite child or something,” a humorous laugh left your lips. 
“Well, he will be once he becomes your boyfriend,” Yunjin gushed, “we’ll make sure he notices you this time, we’ve got a whole week to make it work.” 
You had rushed up the stairs and into your room as soon as the decision had been made, followed by the loud complaints of Mark—which you did not bother to hear, calling Yunjin to fill her in with the situation instead. 
She was packing as you were speaking. 
In all honesty, it never crossed your mind that you would actually want to seduce Haechan, provided that he was Mark’s friend, which would lead to fights you definitely didn’t wish to be a part of, but you were an adult, so Mark held no authority over you. 
There’s nothing wrong with having a little fun after all. 
“I’m not giving you a ride,” Mark deadpanned when you got back downstairs, your mother looking at him with disappointment. 
“I’ll take a cab then,” you rolled your eyes. 
“No need, you’re taking two cars and it’s enough to fit you all,” your mom finally said, “who’s driving?” 
“Me and Mark,” Hyuck replied, voice innocent as you turned to look his way, “Mark is taking the bigger one.”
“Is that so? All boys can go with Mark then. Won’t you give a lift to Y/n and Yunjin, Hyuck?” Your mom asked, knowing he won’t say no. 
She was good at persuasion, unknowingly giving Haechan the full opportunity to be with you, which is exactly what he was aiming for in the first place. 
Haechan only nodded earnestly, eyes almost shining as he looked back at you, “of course, you can ride with me,” he said, ignoring the glare thrown his way by Mark as your name rolled off his tongue, “Y/n.”
As if his voice and gaze wasn’t enough for you to stop breathing in a room full of people, the subtle smirk on his lips successfully had your knees buckling with anticipation. 
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Never in a million years you had thought that you’d be riding shotgun in Hyuck’s car, with him driving and humming along to songs under his breath. You had worn the shortest skirt you managed to find in your closet and the little trick had worked as you saw him staring at your legs when you first came downstairs, announcing that you and Yunjin were ready to leave for the trip. 
Not only did it grab the attention of the boy you had been targeting, but also it garnered attention of Jaemin, who at least tried to act respectful by gulping and looking away. 
Hyuck on the other hand believed that he should blatantly stare at the things which are to be admired, including your legs. 
It didn’t take long for you guys to load your bags into his car, as the other one left ten minutes before you guys. Yunjin wasn’t a fan of long drives—two hours in your case, so she put on her AirPods and closed her eyes the second she got into the back seat, also to give you privacy with Haechan. 
He drove with one hand, the other resting on his thigh. The rings and chain adorning his body caught your attention for a second too long. His hands were definitely bigger than yours, veins popping out whenever he gripped the steering wheel. 
The aura around him was too strong, as if he was a magnet ready to pull everyone towards him, you were no exception. 
“Like the rings, darling?” He asked, eyes on the road with the corner of his lip upturned. 
The question successfully broke your train of thoughts. It was probably the first conversation you had with him, excluding the usual greetings. 
And he kick-started it by calling you darling. 
“They’re pretty,” you replied, not letting the nickname phase you, despite heat creeping up your neck. 
His smile widened at your answer and he swiftly got a ring off his finger, passing it to you—again, without even looking your way. 
“They’ll look prettier on you,” he says ever so smoothly, and you bite your lips, trying to stop the smile from widening as your fingers brush against his, taking the ring and inspecting the design, “don’t wear that in front of the boys though, they’ll flip.”
An amused chuckle left your lips, something which Haechan did not expect, “why? Still scared of Mark and his empty threats?” You asked. 
He pissed you off too much with his don’t come near my sister or I’ll make your life a living hell threat to others, and you were bitter about it. 
“Now, why would I be scared of Mark?” He scoffed. 
“Because you’re one of his friends who aren’t even allowed to look my way,” you said as a matter of fact, breath hitching the second you felt his fingers on your thigh, the warmth of his palm juxtaposing the cold metal of his rings. 
The car was stopped at the red light, “I’ve always looked you in the eye, sweetheart,” he whispered, confirming his statement by turning his head and staring right into your eyes, the tension palpable as your gazes locked, the look being too alluring for you to break the eye contact. 
His whole demeanour changed in a second when his serious expression morphed into a sweet smile, the kind that makes you melt right before he shifted his focus back on the road as if he hadn’t just provided you a sliver of hope about him being interested in you. 
He, however, didn’t bother moving his hand which was gripping your thigh lightly, his fingers were long and looked exceptionally pretty on your skin. You couldn’t help but look out of the window, trying not to let your thoughts get out of hand. 
It certainly didn’t help that he was singing explicit romantic songs with all his might while your best friend was sleeping peacefully in the backseat. 
Haechan loved every single reaction he got out of you, your little shivers when he caressed your thigh, your breath hitching for the very same reason midway a conversation, and your sweet blabber as you he initiated a conversation. 
“How was school?” He asked after a while. 
The conversation flowed smoothly after, the ride wasn’t long after all, his hand caressing your thigh throughout the journey, and you wished for it to be longer. 
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The beach house wasn’t a house apparently, but a mansion with how grand it was. Meaning, everyone would easily get their own rooms. Mark’s car was already parked as they reached earlier, but you saw Jaemin coming out when he heard the sound of Hyuck’s car, helping you take the bags inside with his ever so charming smile while Yunjin and you silently gushed about the beach view. 
Others were busy preparing for the party that was to be held at night—which was news to you. 
The interior was in the shades of black, white, and greys, matching Haechan’s personality in a peculiar manner, given that he was filled with colours of all sorts. 
You and Yunjin selected the adjacent rooms on the first floor, the balcony giving you a pretty view wasn’t something you’d want to miss out on. Haechan occupying the room which was right in front of your room is another thing which boosted your excitement. 
The next few hours flew by as you rested on the beach with Yunjin, soaking up warmth of the sand with the cold ocean waves reaching your toes. It felt peaceful. 
“So, what are you gonna wear to woo Haechan today?” Yunjin asked, sipping on her iced beverage. 
The sun was about to set, your eyes never leaving the sky which displayed all shades of red, yellow and orange, “what do you mean?”
“I mean that there’s no way they won’t be inviting girls, it was supposed to be a boys trip after all to get their dicks wet,” she said as a matter of fact. 
You winced again, not having it in you to watch your brother surrounded by girls. 
“And if Haechan was flirting with you, then it’s your chance to flirt back now, given that Mark would be drunk beyond the point of recovery. Not to mention how you’ll have to do something so he doesn’t stray off and give attention to other girls,” Yunjin listed out. 
She was right, it wasn’t like you were going to get this chance again, “red dress or black dress?” You asked with a playful smile and she squealed, rushing you into your room to help you get ready. 
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The music was blaring by the time you applied the last swatch of lipstick, smacking your lips for the colour to blend in perfectly, complementing your skin tone ever so perfectly. Yunjin doing the same beside you. 
You weren’t sure how they managed to gather all this crowd for a party, granted you guys didn’t even live here, yet who would question these boys, an online invite and people would come running to attend their parties. 
Which was the case at the given moment as well. The second you stepped out from your assorted room, you found Jeno practically eating a girl’s face off with how passionately they were kissing  right beside the door, the music blaring in the background as you tried to overcome the initial shock of seeing your brother’s friend going what you’d consider wild. 
Making your way downstairs, you put on your best confident expression, your eyes immediately looking around, trying to find a certain black haired guy. 
Yunjin stopped you, pointing at the corner of the room where Hyuck was sitting with girls surrounding him, Renjun right next to him, a scoff of disbelief leaving your lips when one of them oh so comfortably sat down on his lap, his arm wrapping around her waist so naturally. 
Yet you couldn’t deny just how effortlessly attractive he looked in that black button up, the first few buttons undone to reveal his chest. The eyeshadow enhancing the look of his eyes to appear more slutry than they already seemed to be. 
Great. This is what you came on this trip for—to see Hyuck tilting the chin of a random girl, shoving his tongue inside her mouth. 
This won’t do, you averted your gaze, going straight to get alcohol, any kind would do, you just needed a boost of confidence to work upon your plan. Yunjin knew exactly what you were up to, winking at you before wandering off in the crowd. 
“Not dancing tonight?” Jaemin asked, standing right next to you as he poured himself a drink. 
His presence made your job easier, especially when he looked so good tonight. His dark hair was a little messy, sleeves rolled up as he was clad in all black, a simple chain adorning his slender neck. 
Perfect bait to get a reaction out of Haechan. 
If he’d bother to look your way, that is. 
“Talking to me tonight? Not scared of my brother anymore?” Your lips curled up, amused. 
That earned a laugh out of him, “he’s locked up in a room as we speak,” he said over the music. Translation: he was busy fucking someone and he won’t be here to monitor your moves. 
Your nose scrunched, not wanting to think about your brother doing the deed. Jaemin walked alongside you as you took up his offer to dance, but also made sure that you could see Haechan clearly with your spot. 
His eyes turned your way for the first time tonight the second you started moving your body along to the rhythm. The distance was fair, yet it felt as if you were the only person in this room and he was the only spectator to your actions. 
Jaemin’s hand came to rest on your waist, your body in sync with his moves, the proximity close and a blissful expression on your face. 
Again, you subtly looked Hyuck’s way, only to find his eyes darker than ever, not straying away from you for even a second, the girl on his lap long forgotten as he couldn’t find a reason to give her his attention anymore. 
Not when you were dancing with Jaemin, not when your dress rode up, revealing your thighs, not when Jaemin whispered in your ear and you giggled, getting closer to him. 
He couldn’t stand it, the muscle in his jaw clenched, his tongue pushed against the inside of his cheek with annoyance bubbling up in his body. 
You turned around, only to find Haechan missing from the spot he was sitting at. All of a sudden, you excused yourself from Jaemin and made your way around the room, to find him again and you failed to do so. 
The room’s atmosphere got stuffy as the night progressed and you made your way upstairs to your room in need of fresh air which was very well provided by the grand balcony. 
Just as you twisted the door knob, getting inside the room, you gasped as Hyuck closed the door behind you, pushing you against the wooden surface of the door, his scent taking over your senses seamlessly as you breathed in deeply. 
“Hyuck—” you whispered, hyper aware of how close he was to you, his body pressed against yours in a way you could feel his torso muscles. His face tilted ever so slightly, just enough for your noses to brush against each other. 
The position alone sent you into a state of frenzy, and he didn’t even let you finish speaking out his name as he chuckled darkly. 
“Didn’t know you were into Jaemin, darling,” he whispered, causing you to gulp down the nervousness, which was of no use as your knees felt even weaker with his slender finger tracing your cheek, stopping right by your lips, “dancing with him while wearing the ring that I gave you.” His thumb caressing your bottom lip, parting it ever so slightly, “doesn’t really sound fair to me now, does it, baby?” He asked, stopping his actions and looking your right in the eye. 
You couldn’t show him how affected you were with possessiveness laced tone, “I don’t see how it’s unfair, Haechan,” you smiled sweetly, keeping your hand on his chest. 
“Wrong,” he said in a beat, “his intentions aren’t pure,” he provided. 
You chuckled, turning your face to the side for a second, “what about your intentions?” You dared to ask. 
His hold on you tightened, “you wanna know my intentions?” He asked, voice so low it gave you goosebumps as he moved even closer to you, his lips on the verge of touching yours. 
They never fully touched, your hand becoming a barrier between you two, “maybe some other day,” you whispered, the expression in his eyes unreadable, “someday when you don’t come here with tainted lips after kissing god knows how many girls,” you smiled tightly, pushing him aside, the alcohol only providing you with unadulterated courage. 
He pulled you back, hand wrapped around your wrist so his torso was pressed against your back, which vibrated with his chuckles, “didn’t know it bothered you that much, pretty,” his lips touched your earlobe. 
“It doesn’t,” you seethed out, trying not to sound breathless as you shrugged out of his hold, “besides, we mean nothing to each other. I won’t stop you from snogging anyone and you can’t stop me from dancing with anyone.”
That’s all you said before slipping out of his grasp, rushing in and closing the bathroom door behind you and breathing in deeply. The feeling of his touch still lingering on your body, he was jealous as you were and he was so close. 
So close to kissing you. 
Hyuck leaned against the door on the opposite side of you, “we mean nothing to each other?” He scoffed under his breath, the image of Jaemin’s hands on your waist coming back to his mind. He was wrong to pay attention to someone else, he admits, but now he was determined to give you all his attention. 
“You’re mine, you just don’t know that yet,” he says, knowing you won’t be able to hear him, “all mine,” his tone was possessive still as he walked out of the room. 
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The boys woke up all hungover the next morning, while you and Yunjin snuck out of the mansion before others woke up, only to avoid Hyuck, which was almost funny given that you were here to get his attention. 
Regardless, you sat in this cute cafe you found nearby, explaining the whole situation to your best friend. The slight smirk on her face gave away the fact that she was proud of you for not giving him attention last night. It’ll only make him want you more, she had said. 
Mark called you right after you finished your meal, “where are you?” He asked, panicked, “don’t tell me you got kidnapped,” the horror was clear in his voice and you rolled your eyes, not understanding how his brain worked. 
“I literally left a note on the fridge that I’ll be out for lunch and shopping, Mark,” you explained, almost laughing when you heard him say oh. He was standing right in front of the fridge apparently. 
“Right, have fun,” he said, hanging up the call. 
He wasn’t the best brother but he did care. At times, more than he needed to. 
“Okay so here’s the plan,” Yunjin started to explain. She loved giving out ideas and they always worked, which is why you found yourself in the swimsuit store, purchasing the one which flattered your body in the best manner. 
“And don’t lock your room at night. Knowing Haechan, he would definitely give you a little visit after seeing you pull that stunt.” 
The sun was setting and you were almost back at the mansion. You enjoyed the day and it was a great plan to get Hyuck out of your head, even though it wasn’t possible despite the fact that it had been only two days since you came back and met him again. 
Tonight’s plan was to have a bonfire by the beach, grill meat and have a good time. Mark had finally accepted and asked everyone to tone down and make the trip more family friendly, hence the bonfire.  
The place was empty when you got back in, and you saw the boys setting up the barbecue when you changed into your dress before making your way to join them. 
“Remember the plan?” Yunjin asked and you nodded, loving the feel of cold sand beneath your foot. 
Hyuck was the first one to notice your presence, his dark eyes fixated on your figure as you walked towards them, Jaemin being the second one as he smiled your way, to which you smiled back sweetly. 
You still had Hyuck’s ring on as you approached the place where Hyuck and Jaemin were grilling the meat, Mark was sitting down and playing his guitar while Jeno and Renjun sang along to the song, Yunjin being a great singer also joined those three. 
“Can I have a taste?” You asked, looking at Jaemin with hopeful eyes. 
The weather was cold yet the burning stare of a certain someone had you feeling all kinds of warmth, yet you didn’t look his way. 
“Of course, say ah,” Jaemin said, eyes shining as he held the piece of meat for you and you gladly accepted it, your lips touching his fingers in a caress, the juicy taste making you hum out in pleasure. 
In a second, you were turned around, “there’s something on your lips,” Hyuck muttered, expression stoic as he brushed his thumb on your lower lip, “all cleaned.”
You would have laughed at the jealousy had his action not been so intimidating, as if he was warning you not to do this. 
“Thanks,” you said, voice extra sweet before you looked back at Jaemin who was confused at the exchange, “can I have more?” You asked. 
“Here.” Hyuck shoved a plate in your hands before Jaemin could even reply, “enjoy your food,” he said, smiling but his eye twitched in the process, making you bite your lower lip to contain your laugh yet again and you sat down finally. 
“Do you think the water would be cold right now?” Jeno asked no one in general, his intrusive thoughts winning.  
“Why? Wanna take a dip?” Mark asked with a laugh, eyebrows raising once he realized that Jeno was serious about it. 
“It’ll be fun,” he said as everyone laughed around him. 
“There’s no light out here, Jeno,” Renjun said. 
“It’ll be fun.”
“The waves are strong too,” Mark reasoned.
“It’ll be fun.”
“Okay, his vocabulary is limited,” Hyuck said, sitting by you as Jaemin handed over the plates to everyone, Mark sparing a glance to make sure Hyuck didn’t sit too close to you. 
“We can go one hour after eating, just dip our toes in,” Yunjin suggested and you guys agreed as Mark resumed playing his guitar. 
“Have more, Y/n.” Jaemin smiled, giving you more pieces to eat from his own plate. 
Haechan didn’t remember the last time he felt so pissed over something this small, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It had been two whole days since you made your comeback in his life but those two days were enough for him to want you, granted he did have a crush on you for the longest time, only now it wasn’t just your sweetness he was attracted to. 
“Thank you, nana,” you beamed, the nickname only infuriating Hyuck more while you could see Jaemin blush faintly and you truly wondered how all these goofballs pulled girls so easily. 
“Nana,” Hyuck mocked under his breath, Yunjin noticing the atmosphere and slightly pushing you towards him. 
“You’re doing brilliantly,” she whispered, “he looks like he’ll blow up anytime now.”
It felt nice, sitting in front of the bonfire while listening to others singing. You knew you were trying to make Hyuck jealous yet it was hard not to stare at his face, which basked in the glow of fire. He was already looking your way, noticing how you still had his ring on, which only tempted him to pull you on his lap, yet he knew it was impossible with your brother monitoring his every move. 
“Let’s go into the water,” Jeno repeated, as Mark smirked. 
“On the count of one, two,” he said, and didn’t even finish before your eyes widened as your brother came to pick you up in hopes of throwing you into the cold water. 
Mark was escapable. Jeno on the other hand, not so much and it didn’t help how they both had lifted you up despite your thrashing and whining and ran towards the water. 
“Mark I swear I’ll kill you—” you warned and Yunjin had the time of her life recording this whole scene. 
Renjun continuously reminded the boys to stay safe while also doing god’s work by providing you with the flashlight set on the highest setting from his phone. 
Within a second, you were screaming and thrashing as the boys dropped you into the cold water, laughing and doing the same with a horrified Renjun before rushing towards the mansion, especially Mark, leaving you all cold. 
Hyuck rushed to close the flashlight. 
You were wearing white, and the water only made your clothes look transparent, which is why Hyuck was taking his jacket off, but yet again, Jaemin was quick to wrap his leather jacket around your shivering frame. 
He was glad that you were covered but the annoyance was clear on his face, the amusement long gone even with you muttering and plotting Mark and Jeno’s murder with Renjun. 
Nor did he enjoy the sight of Jaemin taking you back to the villa, acting all protective as if he was your knight in shining armour. 
“You’re making it so obvious that you’re jealous,” Yunjin quipped, noticing how everyone walked ahead of them, rushing to the mansion. 
He laughed out, ending it with a scoff, “I have no reason to be,” he said, voice calm, “she’s mine anyways,” he shrugged, determination clear in his eyes. 
“Wow, you’re not even scared to admit it out loud? What if Mark hears?” She asks and Hyuck’s expression sours. 
“He wouldn’t approve. That’s a given but that’s not enough to stop me,” he shrugged yet again. 
“Okay Mr. Someone is stealing your girl as we speak though,” Yunjin pointed out, a fake sympathetic scowl on her face. 
Haechan hated feeling this way, the feeling where things do not go his way. He hadn’t felt this way since—forever. He had everything he wanted, but not you. Mark being a hindrance is something he considered to be normal till some extent, but Jaemin? That’s unacceptable. 
“I’ll take care of it.”
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It was one in the morning and you were wrapped up in a blanket, sitting down near the balcony to observe the spectrum of stars which you could have sworn were shining. 
Being thrown into the water wasn’t the best experience per se, but you knew it would soon turn into a funny memory you guys would look back at someday in the future. Yet, it wasn’t something you were thinking about much, granted you had better things to ponder about. 
Lee Haechan. 
You well expected him to show at least a sliver of reaction, some sort of outburst during the evening, however it never came. Either he was plotting revenge or he simply didn’t care enough. Or he was trying to keep it in, your mind tried to reason with you. 
You sighed, getting up and closing the sliding doors of the big balcony in hopes of getting a cozy sleep. You needed that warmth after all. Just as you dropped the blanket on the bed, the door swung open—which shouldn’t have happened, given that you were sure you had locked it.
Haechan entered the room, closing the door behind him and you couldn’t help but stand at your place, shocked at his sudden appearance, “how did you—” 
“It’s my place, I can get in and out anytime I want,” he replied, voice smooth, giving you goosebumps as he walked closer to you. 
He was clad in sweatpants and a white T-shirt, the attire was simple, yet he made it look a hundred times more attractive than the usual. 
“Oh,” you breathed out, the dim lights of the room caused his skin to glow a beautiful shade of golden. 
There wasn’t a single ounce of jealousy on his face, rather, he looked content with the setting, settling down and sitting on the corner of the bed, his dark eyes staring at you, the silence louder than ever. 
“Uhm, so—did you want something?” You asked, wincing at your tone as you suddenly felt conscious under his gaze, slightly aroused too, not knowing what he was actually here for. 
He clicked his tongue, looking away for a second before his eyes settled on you for the second time. 
Hyuck gave you no time to process anything as his hands grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him in a single hard tug, which had your body stumbling forward and right on his lap. 
He held on to your waist, helping you stabilize your balance, “what’s wrong, princess? You were so confident, getting cozy with Jaemin, huh?” He raise his brow, letting the possessiveness show on his face, the I don’t give a fuck facade disappearing. 
Your breath hitched with the movement of his fingers on your waist, his thumb rubbing circles on the part where your top had ridden up to expose your skin. 
“He was just being nice,” you breathed out, shivering slightly. 
He rolled his eyes at your statement, a scoff leaving his lips before he leaned in, earning a gasp out of you. His nose caressed yours, and you were scared to move, his lips hovering above yours. 
“Just being nice my ass,” he clicked his tongue yet again, and suddenly you were hyper aware about the fact that you were breathing in the same air, “you wanted to know my intentions, right, princess?” He asked, “then listen, I want you all to myself,” his tone was raspy, your fingers digging into his shoulders for support, “don’t think I didn’t notice your subtle glances towards me, especially when you were with Jaemin,” he chuckled and you gulped, looking elsewhere. 
He was quick to grab your chin, making you look right in his eyes, “trying to get me jealous, darling? Well, good for you, it fucking worked.”
“Hyuck—” you whimper, your body heating up as you realized you were sitting right on his crotch. 
“Shh, bad girls don’t get to talk,” he shook his head, disappointed, “now what do we do about this? Maybe I’ll just have to claim your body to make you understand that you don’t need to make me jealous to have all my attention,” he suggested. 
You could feel the wetness down in your lacy panties and he hadn’t even touched you. Something about the way his voice came out so luscious, something about the way his touch made you feel like putty, something about his eyes made you feel mesmerized. 
“Tell me, baby. Can I mark you mine?” He asked and you felt your heart flutter, his voice was gentle when he asked for your consent, and you couldn’t hold back from wanting him anymore, nodding gently, “use your words, love,” he urged, lips parted. 
“Yes,” you whispered, grabbing on to him as he bit your lip, eliciting another gasp out of you, a teasing smirk on his face. 
“Yeah? You sure you can handle it?” He asked and you tugged on to his collar, impatiently pulling you to him. 
“Let’s find out,” you mumbled. 
Without any more delay, you closed the distance between you both, his hand coming to rest on your nape, tilting your head to kiss you passionately, his tongue brushing over your lips, parting them with ease for your tongue to graze the tip of his own. 
The room felt misty as you continued to kiss, his kisses getting more possessive by second, thinking about how no one else should have you, that you belong to him. He picked you up with ease, putting you underneath him on the bed, his kisses trailing down as you took a deep breath. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbled midway kisses, some were long, especially the ones around your clavicle and neck region while the others were feather soft, driving you insane to the point of no return. It only ascended when his fingers finally lifted up your top, exploring the expanse of your skin with teasing touches. 
Your back arched as soon as he caresses the area under your tits, before cupping them fully, leaning back to get rid of your top altogether. You couldn’t shy under his gaze, the way he looked at you only boosted your confidence, as if he was a predator hungry for a meal and you were his precious prey, all ready to be devoured. 
He had no time to waste, his mouth working fast to lean down, swirling his tongue around your hardened nipples, noticing how you react to his each touch, fondling your other tit, hearing you whimper and beg for more, his name chanting on your lips out of sheer pleasure. 
“It’s so fucking cute how your body reacts to every little touch of mine,” he whispered, biting your earlobe in the process, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he stuffed his pretty fingers inside your shorts, chuckling when he realizes how soiled your lacy panties had gotten, “fuck, I wanna taste that pretty cunt,” he says, taking off his T-shirt before doing the same to your shorts, dragging your panties down alongside it. 
You found yourself drooling at the sight of Hyuck’s muscles, he had started going to the gym and the results were clearly visible on his body, but you were ripped out of your thought train when he bit your inner thigh, causing you to clench around nothing, giving you kisses and licks all over, but not touching the part where you needed him the most. 
“P—please,” you cried out of frustration, and he immersed himself, licking a big stripe of your wet cunt, genuinely loving the taste as he hummed with satisfaction, holding your thighs open with his strong arms, “oh god,” you moaned out, causing him to smirk against your wetness, pressing sweet kisses to your clit. 
It felt like heaven when you were being destroyed by the demon himself. 
Hyuck was hard, his thick cock barely containing itself from splitting your pussy into two, but he wanted to see you fall apart on his tongue first, “your cunt,” he said, licking it to make a point, “belongs to me,” he whispered and you nodded. 
“It’s yours—all yours!”
“That’s my good fucking girl, you’re all mine,” he said, his tongue prodding at your entrance, fucking your pussy, which gave you more pleasure than you had ever felt through your life. 
It didn’t take long for you to feel your lower abdomen tightening, your fingers tugging on his silky black roots as he ate you out like a madman, as if he was drunk in the essence of your pussy. With a cry, you found yourself falling apart all over his tongue and he lapped it up, coming to kiss you right after, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. He knew you’d be overstimulated, but that’s exactly what he was aiming for when he finally pulled out his cock. You knew he’d be thick, but you underestimated him still, knowing well his cock wouldn’t fit in your cunt. 
“Gonna claim you mine,” he whispered, intertwining his fingers with yours as he positioned himself on your entrance, “fuck, you’re all mine,” he said, kissing you deeply to absorb all yours moans as he pushed himself inside you. 
Your wetness helped him, yet he had to thrust in a few times to bottom out and could feel yourself clenching around him uncontrollably, loving the stretch and also the fact that he was twitching inside of you. 
His fingers grabbed your hips in a tight hold as he started pistoning into you at a pace which you hadn’t expected, and you were sure you looked crazy with how your eyes were teary, your hair a mess and your lips swollen, courtesy of the boy who groaned and slapped your cunt, fucking you deeper. 
“That’s it, baby, you’re taking me so well,” he praised and you let out broken sentences which he couldn’t comprehend, you were too gone, pushed into your subspace to the point you simply let Hyuck do all the work, moaning and whimpering for him, trying to keep your noises at bay in case anyone wakes up. 
Just when you both were about to read your high, he stopped fucking you, making you whimper out in distress, only to have you flipped with your ass up and head down on the pillow. 
It didn’t take him a second before he was entering your cunt again, fucking you from behind in hopes of giving you the brutal backshots you deserved, to fuck you in a way that you’ll be ruined forever, not even wanting to go back to another guy for their cock. 
This also gave him the perfect opportunity to spank your ass, the hurt only making you clench around him harder. 
“Fuck—I’m so—so close,” you sobbed, voice coming out muffled and Hyuck rubbed your clit to stimulate you further. 
“Go on, baby. Give me everything,” he urged and you both finally let go, groaning and whining as he filled you up with his cum, mixing it with your juices.
It felt as if the universe had blessed you with the highest amount of unadulterated pleasure one could have, and your eyes closed shut as Hyuck lay down next to you, breathing in and out just as quick as you to regain his strength to breathe properly. 
“Y/n,” he whispered, more gently this time, pulling you into a sweet kiss as you smiled into it, finding it amusing that he was the same guy who brutally fucked you not even a few minutes back, “you really are mine, yeah?” He said, caressing your cheek. 
“Yeah?” You asked in a whisper and he nodded earnestly, getting a washcloth and helping you into the bathroom, feeling proud when you couldn’t stand up properly. 
He was sweet. Sweeter than you had ever expected him to be and that’s why you found yourself kissing him again, and again as you both washed up in the shower, turning it to the point you both couldn’t help but giggle, his forehead resting against yours. 
“I really do like you, baby,” he whispered. 
“I really like you too, Hyuck,” you replied, feeling happier than you had ever felt, spending a while in his embrace, talking and kissing and eventually, falling asleep in his arms as you both smiled faintly, even in your deep slumber. 
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Hurt. 
That’s what your body felt the second you blinked open your eyes. Images from last night revisiting you as a montage, a small smile lingered on your face, discarding the fact that you were disappointed, not having Hyuck by your side when you woke up, but then again, it was still better than getting caught by Mark. 
With the support of the bedside tables, you managed to stand up on your wobbly feet, stablizing yourself before going into the bathroom to freshen up, you needed that long bath to soothe down your muscles. 
Now wrapped up in your bath robe, you passed by the door, only to hear the sound of someone arguing. Curiosity got the best of you as you walked back, twisting the knob to open it just the right amount for it to not be noticeable, gladly the door opened seamlessly. 
“Stop playing with her feelings,” Jaemin whisper-yelled, and your heartbeat rose when you saw how it was directed towards Hyuck. 
“Who the fuck even said I’m playing with her?” Hyuck asked, his voice full of exasperation and anger. 
Jaemin scoffed, you hadn’t seen that expression on his face, ever. “So you’re just gonna go around fucking her right after Mark told you, specifically might I add, to stay away from her. What are you trying to do here? Take revenge by proving a point?” 
Your heart dropped hearing that sentence. Sneaking around made sense because Mark would, without any doubts, be against this setting, but what revenge was Jaemin talking about? When did Mark ask Hyuck to stay away from her, specifically at that? 
“That’s none of your business,” Hyuck replied, teeth gritted, “besides, weren’t you the one begging for her attention by putting up your good boy act? We aren’t that different, Jaemin,” he mocked, “you only want her cause she’s Mark’s sister.”
Your lip wobbled at his confession, he hadn’t agreed to Jaemin’s claims yet he hadn’t denied it either and suddenly you didn’t feel comfortable, all the positive energy drained as you rushed to get dressed, to get out. 
You trusted Hyuck too easily, and you knew you’d have to confront him about this, but you didn’t feel like doing it now. You wanted to go back home, alone, to deal with your inconvenience which would bother you for a while now. 
So you did what you had to do: run away from your problems. 
You texted Mark that you’d be taking his car, also mentioning it to Yunjin that you’ll be going back home, as you rushed to get dressed up and sneak out of the place without Hyuck knowing, and you were successful in doing so, sighing as soon as you started driving back. 
Hyuck thought you were sleeping in, and he couldn’t enter your room with everyone being awake and roaming around, especially when Jaemin knew what you two had done last night. 
The reminder only made him smile, as cliche as it sounds, he had never felt this way with other girls, your little confession only made his heart beat faster. You liked him back, and that’s all that mattered. 
“Yo, why did Y/n leave? She’s not picking up the calls either?” Hyuck heard Mark ask Yunjin, who knew exactly what was up. 
“She’s got some work to take care of, you don’t have to worry about it,” Yunjin patted his shoulder before making her way out to the beach to call you again. She knows you want space, but she also knows you like it when she checks up on you. 
Now, that was news to Hyuck, his eyes widening as he rushed to open the door to your room, only to find you weren’t actually there. 
“Fuck,” he mumbled, getting his phone out and calling you, only for it to get declined, “no, fuck,” he groaned, thinking about if he upset you in any way, yet he couldn’t understand why you’d leave, especially when you were so happy when you went to sleep. 
Or maybe she heard you talking to Jaemin, his subconscious spoke up, making him lose his mind and punch the wall next to him, running down the stairs to follow Yunjin, calling out her name which caused her to pause and remove her sunglasses. 
“Where is Y/n?” He asked, breathing heavily. 
“Are you playing with her feelings?” She asked instead of replying to his question, “cause if that’s the case then I don’t care if we’re staying at your mansion, I’ll have to kick and break your baby making machine.” Her smile was threatening. 
“Oh god, that’s not it!” Hyuck was frustrated, “I’ve liked her since we were kids, I'm not joking around,” he said earnestly, “is she upset, why did she leave?” 
Yunjin watched the boy with amusement in her eyes, “you’re so dumb actually. If you like her enough then why aren’t you running after her right now? Get in your car and get your girl, shoo,” she dismissed him and Hyuck didn’t wait to chat about how she shouldn’t shoo him away, rather, he ran to grab his car keys, not paying attention to Renjun who asked why he was in such a hurry. 
Hyuck didn’t want any miscommunications whatsoever, it had been an hour since you had left, and it’ll probably be impossible to cover that distance in a short while so he decided to drive faster and get to your place. 
“Y/n, baby, please listen to me,” he muttered to himself, trying to call you again. 
You weren’t dating. It had barely been a week since you came back, a few days since he had started to get to know this new side of you and he didn’t want it to stop, not when he’s genuinely liked you for so long, minus his fuckboy ways of course. 
Mark had tried to call him a few times too, sensing that something was up, yet Hyuck didn’t pick up those calls, focusing on driving till he finally reached your place, relieved to see Mark’s car parked there. 
He knew there was an extra key under the third potted plant on the entrance, and that’s exactly what he took and opened the door. The living room was empty, which caused him to rush up the stairs to find you in your room, his chest heaving up and down. 
The sudden voice startled you, your mouth going dry at the sight of Hyuck. 
You couldn’t avoid him after all. 
“Hyuck, is everything okay? What are you doing here—why are you here?” You asked, pretending to be okay. 
“Did you hear us in the morning?” He asked, eyes softer than you had ever seen. 
You opened your mouth to speak, but stopped, gulping down your emotions before staring at your feet, “I did,��� you whispered, “but it’s fine, Hyuck. The sex was great—”
You didn’t look up while rambling, and it was cut short when Hyuck pulled you into his embrace, warmth spreading all over your body with how he held you close to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so broken seeing someone’s face, and he couldn’t handle that it was because of him that you felt this hurt. 
“That’s not true,” he whispered, holding you tighter, you could feel tears forming in your eyes. 
“N—no one’s ever approached me because of Mark,” your voice came out muffled, and Hyuck leaned back slightly just to look at your face, his thumb wiping the stray tear that cascaded down your cheek, “i felt like no one wanted to befriend me for me, all girls wanted to get to him through me and all the boys were so scared,” you laughed pathetically, knowing that your story wasn’t even sob worthy, “but you were the only one who still talked to me, even if it was just greeting me, asking me about my day,” you let out your breath. 
“Baby,” Hyuck cupped your cheeks. 
“You were the only exception, Hyuck. Maybe that’s the reason I’ve always liked you so much. So tell me, was it all a joke?” You asked, eyes serious. 
“It wasn’t,” he shook his head, gulping down before explaining it to you, “it happened at the party when I offered to drop you home but Mark was against it, thinking that I would use you to only fuck you, but that was not my intention I swear,” he says with a frown. 
“So that’s what you did,” your voice barely came out, it sounded broken. 
“God—no. No. I could never do that to you,” he felt helpless, trying to word his sentence properly, “I’ve liked you since we were kids, and I was heartbroken when you switched schools and cities. But I just got so excited when Mark told us that you were back—I wanted to see you, talk to you, but Mark only gave me a reminder that I couldn’t have you.”
You listened to him, your heart undoubtedly fluttering with how earnest his eyes looked, how the distress of being denied of you flashed clearly on his face. 
You really wanted to kiss him. 
“And when he gave all those permissions to Jaemin, I couldn’t help it. I never had revenge in my mind Y/n. I like you too much to hurt you, and I know we’re not even dating right now, but I don’t want anyone to ruin it for us even before our story starts and I swear to god I’ll fight Mark if it means that I can have you,” he breathed out, cheeks flushed as he had confessed to someone for the very first time.
You broke into a smile despite the tears in your eyes, “you promise?” You held up your pinky finger. 
He laced his pinky finger with yours, tugging it so you stumble slightly, and he takes it as an opportunity to pull you into a deep kiss, his soft lips caressing yours in a possessive hold, promising that he’ll take care of you. 
“Good, cause I was going to be really upset if you didn’t,” you mumbled against his lips. 
He chuckled before saying, “don’t ever run away from me, yeah?” 
You nodded, hugging him back tighter as you felt your anxiety calming down, your smile widening as he kissed your forehead, easing out your worries and you were sure you wanted to give it a try—you wanted to give you both a try. 
Yet another problem lingered in your mind. 
“So, about Mark,” you winced, knowing it’ll be disastrous.
“Shh, we’ll think about him later,” he mumbled, but the peacefulness wasn’t here to stay for long as a loud voice boomed up, indicating that Jaemin had snitched. 
“Lee fucking Donghyuck, I told you to stay away from my sister!” Mark shouted, your eyes widening as you both looked at each other. 
“Fuck, hide!”
Despite the chaos of hiding in your closet, you knew that Hyuck would always be your exception. 
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THANK YOU FOR READING!
TAGGING: @ajayke-reads @jenoslutie @jjaeyuns @heesuncore @celeste-hoon
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smileysuh · 5 months
Text
ghostie
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🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call. He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend.  You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. Five minutes turns into ten, turns into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut. You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.
tw/cw. yandere/stalker subthemes, unknown caller, weed use, multiple reader orgasms, big dick!Johnny, oral, pussy eating, blowjob, deep throating, spit as lube, fingering, hand riding, dacryphilia, praise, dirty talk, cum/fullness kink, unprotected sex, heavy grinding, dick bulge, creampie, rough groping, slight restraint, size kink, submissive reader, subspace, dumbification, hair pulling, finger sucking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, good girl, pretty girl. (his) Ghostie.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 15k
🍭 aus. uni/frat au, yandere subthemes, Halloween, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. this might just be the best John fic I've ever written, or maybe I just need therapy
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Sunday 
You pause your movie when your phone rings and you look down at the screen. The number is unknown, and you briefly consider not even answering it. However, you’ve had two job interviews in the past week, and you don’t want to miss any opportunities, so with a sigh, you bring your phone to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Tiny, how’s your night going?”
Definitely not a prospective employer. Your sorority gave you the name Tiny during first year, something to do with the ‘tiny’ shots you always want to take, and only those within the Greek system use it on you. On top of the Greek-specific term of endearment, the man on the other end of the line is using a voice modulator of some sort, and it makes it impossible for you to identify him.
Your curiosity is sparked. 
“Who is this?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
You sigh, leaning back against your bed and setting your laptop to the side. “I get that Scream is having a comeback, but this whole ‘calling a girl and being mysterious’ thing won’t get you laid anytime soon.”
“Are you sure about that?” You can hear a hint of laughter in the man’s voice.
“If you’re not going to tell me who you are, I’ll hang up.”
“We wouldn’t want that, now would we?” There’s a pause then, “Let’s just say, a mutual friend gave me your number. They thought we’d hit it off.”
“Whoever this ungendered mutual friend is, I doubt they expected you to call me with a voice modulator and act out a Ghost Face fantasy. I get that Halloween is a week away, but come on… you can’t be serious about this.” 
“I am serious. Come on Tiny, live a little.” 
“You’re awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you, Mister Ghost Face.” 
“I’ve got good reason to be, trust me on that.”
You let out a deep sigh, going through your roster of men who might think this sort of thing would be funny. “Yunho? Is this you getting high again?” 
“Wrong frat, but good guess. I didn’t know Alpha Tappa Zeta’s star quarterback was a stoner, thanks for the info, Tiny.” 
“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. You hadn’t meant to throw Yunho under the bus like that.
“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone about his… habits. That would be hypocritical of me.”
You search your mind for the stoners you know. Ones who would have the balls to call you like this. 
“Do you want to take another guess? I’ll give you three chances. You have two more.”
Aside from ATZ, you spend a lot of time with Sigma Veta Tau. Soonyoung is a well-known blunt roller in the fraternity system, but he wouldn’t do a charade like this. He’s very open about hitting on you any time you’re at one of his parties. 
“Jeonghan?” you ask.
“Last guess, Tiny.” 
He doesn’t confirm or deny if you’ve gotten the frat right, but you can’t really see any other SVT members who would fit this mysterious man’s profile. 
Your mind wanders to Nu Chi Theta. They’ve got quite a few weed lovers there, and you’ve been invited into many closed-room smoke sessions with the dirty NCT boys. 
There’s Yuta, and he’d definitely have the gall to entertain a flirtation like this. However, you don’t know of any mutual friends who would ever set you up with him. With another sigh of irritation, you throw out the last name on your shortlist of stoner acquaintances. 
“Hyuck? Please tell me this isn’t you.”
“Close but no cigar.” 
“I don’t like this game.”
“You’re not supposed to like it, but it is entertaining, don’t you think?”
“What’s your angle with all of this?” you question. “If you’re not going to tell me who you are, then what’s the point of calling?”
The line is silent for a few moments. “I guess… I just wanted to talk to you a little, is that so bad?”
Your heart softens, if only momentarily. “Then grow some balls and ask me out like a real man.”
“Where would be the fun in that?” The mystery man lets out a short chuckle, and your irritation only grows. 
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re really annoying?”
“A few times actually.”
“Well, you’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met and I haven’t even met you.”
“Yes, you have.”
“God, I’m tired of this. Goodnight.” 
You don’t even wait for an answer, you simply hang up.
Despite trying to get back to your movie, you can’t get the mystery man out of your head. When you go to bed you can’t even sleep, your mind completely full of all the possibilities of who your caller could have been. 
You’ll have to do some digging tomorrow. You can’t not figure out who this guy is- and you know just the fratboy to give you all the details you could need.
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Monday
Mark Lee is always fifteen minutes early, even when it comes to an 8am class. You feel like shit after tossing and turning all night, so when you slide into the seat next to him in the back of the class, he gives you a once over and his lips part in shock.
“Are you okay?”
“No, Mark, I’m not okay,” you snap, regretting it a moment later- after all, Mark’s not the one doing this to you. “Someone called me from an unknown number last night. A frat guy, I’m not sure who. He was using this voice modulator-”
“That sounds hella sketchy.”
“Super sketchy,” you agree. 
“I know it’s October and everything, but that’s a weird way to hit on a girl.”
“That’s what I said!” Mark always understands you. “He said a mutual friend gave him my number, thought we’d be cute together or something- whoever it was, I need to strangle them.”
“Is this friend a girl or a guy?”
“Mystery man wouldn’t tell me,” you groan.
“So… this dude could be literally anyone.”
“Not Yunho from Alpha Tappa Zeta, Jeonghan from Sigma Veta Tau, and not your roommate Hyuck. The guy gave me three guesses,” you explain, “the hint is that he’s a stoner.”  
“Lots of frat guys are stoners.”
“Exactly,” you sigh, leaning back in your seat. 
“What are you going to do if he calls you again?” Mark asks. “This kind of feels like stalker behavior.”
“It does,” you admit. “But at the same time, he calls me Tiny, and he says we’ve met before- when I asked what he even got out of the phonecall he said he just wanted to ‘talk to me a little,’ which, I don’t know, for some reason I feel like he’s not a stalker.” 
Mark gives you a look that says ‘You’re crazy,’ and after listening to everything that just spewed out of your own mouth, maybe you kind of agree with him.
 “So if he calls you again…” Mark reasks his earlier question, one you’d chosen to ignore.
But you can’t ignore it now, and you let out a deep breath.
“If he calls again… We’ll see what happens.”
“Tiny-”
“Mark,” you counter, knowing he’s about to chastise you. But you don’t want to hear it. If even he doesn’t have any idea of who your mystery caller could be, you simply can’t give up. If you never find out who this ‘Ghost Face’ dude is, you’ll feel unsolved for the rest of your life and you know it.
“Look, I’ll ask around a little,” Mark concedes.
You let out a squeal of delight, throwing your arms around your closet fratboy friend. He lets out a chuckle, gently squeezing you back. 
Mark’s a good guy. 
If only you were into good guys and not sleazy stoners calling you while getting a hard-on for being Ghost Face.
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Monday pt 2
It’s nine o'clock and you’re starting to get tired while you study. You’re in need of a distraction, so when your phone rings with an unknown number, your heart practically jumps into your throat.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Tiny.”
“Wow, Mister Ghost Face,” you laugh, twirling in your spinny chair, “two nights in a row. You must really like me, huh?”
The laugh he lets out sounds genuine, even though his voice is obscured still. For some reason, the noise makes you grin, and you can’t believe you’re actually kind of having fun with this.
“I do like you,” the mystery man confirms. “Tell me about your day.”
“Tell you about my day?” You’re in shock.
“Uh huh.”
“No teasing or nothing? No three guesses about your identity?” 
“I’ll tell you what,” he lets out a sigh, “like you said, Halloween is in a week. If you keep letting me call you until then, I’ll reveal myself when you come to the party.”
“The party?” you repeat. “You make it sound like there’s only one frat party on Halloween.”
“Only one worth going to.”
“Is that so?” He’s so cocky- why does that turn you on? 
“Yup. In fact, I know you agree with me on this, because the past two Halloweens, you’ve come to my frat.” 
Your body freezes. He’s just given you a massive hint-
“So you’re an NCT boy?”
“Wouldn’t call myself a boy, and neither would you if you saw what's in my pants.” 
You swallow the lump in your throat, not sure how to even respond to the suggestive comment he’s just made. 
The man on the other end of the line lets out a chuckle. “Sorry, I’m two blunts deep. I should watch what I say to you, that's why I asked about your day.”
“You don’t have to- watch what you say, I mean.”
“Yeah?” You can almost picture him leaning back in a chair, a large half-chub growing in his pants- “Are you getting horny from a mystery man on your phone? Dirty girl.”
“Dirty guy,” you counter, “trying to entice me by saying your dick is big.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”
“I’m intrigued,” you admit, “but not only because of your cock.”
“It’s a nice cock.”
“Okay, I’ll tell you about my day,” you sidestep. “Had an early class with Mark Lee, you must know Mark.”
“Of course.”
“Well, he has no clue who you could be.”
“You talked about me.” 
You can hear him smiling. 
“I bet you couldn’t even sleep last night. Too busy trying to figure out who I am.”
Okay, maybe he is a bit of a stalker. Or maybe he just knows you well… who the fuck is this guy?
“Stop being so cocky,” you insist.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” 
“Mark told me you’re probably a stalker, said I should maybe block your number.”
“I don’t have a number, if I did, that would be too easy for you. I’m an unknown caller… can you even block unknown callers?” 
“I guess we’ll find out when I block you.”
“Won’t happen though. What did you do after your class with Mark?”
“Are you really that interested in my day?” 
“I wouldn’t be asking if I wasn’t interested.”
He’s a cocky softy, who would have imagined. 
You wonder what you ever did to make this guy so sweet on you- you’ve dated men who don’t even care to ask you how your day went, and this guy is out here doing it practically for free.
“Classes were okay, my sorority had a little fundraiser at lunch, we baked cupcakes.”
“They were good cupcakes.” 
“Wait…” your stomach churns a little. “You stopped by?”
“I’m a sucker for cupcakes, and how cute your butt looks in blue jeans.”
You search your memory, counting how many NCT boys came through around lunch. You realize that there were far too many for it to do any good in deciphering which one is the man you’re currently talking to.
“Did we talk?”
“You talked to everyone who bought something. I’m not special.”
Except… he kind of is special, in a way you can’t truly explain… not yet anyways.
“Maybe you are a stalker,” you decide.
“I can promise you I’m not, but I bet you’d be kind of into it if I was.”
This guy makes you feel such conflicting emotions, you’re not sure how to even handle him.
“Look, I was studying when you called-”
“Right, you should get back to that.”
“I should.”
“Sleep tight, Tiny. It’s been nice talking to you.”
Part of you wants to return the sentiment, it feels second nature, but the words stop on your tongue. In all fairness, it hasn’t been particularly nice talking to the mystery Ghost Face guy. 
Instead of saying anything else, you simply hit him with a “Bye,” and you hang up the phone.
However, you don’t get back to studying, you immediately call Mark.
He sounds groggy as he says “Hello?”
“Did I wake you?”
“No.”
“I just got a call from that guy again. He’s definitely one of your frat brothers, and he’s high right now.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down,” Mark sighs. “We sort of uh… all got high at the fire after dinner.”
“Mark Lee!” you screech.
“Sorry, sorry!” Mark groans. “I’ll uh… ask around some more. We’ll figure out who this dude is.”
“And if we don’t… he said he’d tell me who he is at your frat Halloween bash at the end of the week.” 
It’s Monday now, and the party is on Saturday. That means you’ll only have to wait a few days… you can hold out for a few days… can’t you?
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Tuesday
You read over the email a third time, but it doesn’t make anything better. The words ‘We regret to inform you that you have not been chosen for the position’ make your eyes begin to well with tears.
Quickly exiting your phone, you grab your things. You refuse to cry in the middle of the library-
The bathroom will have to do the trick, and you hurry to get there, holding back the choked sob that longs to slip out of you.
You’d thought for sure this interview would land you a job on campus. The interview had gone well, or so you’d thought.
You don’t even know why you’re getting so upset about this. 
There’s just something so devastating about rejection. 
You get to the bathroom quickly, shutting yourself into a stall before you allow the tears to fall again. You cradle your face in your hands, allowing the sadness to overwhelm you.
It’s important to have a good cry every now and again, and you definitely need this.
Your cries, however, are interrupted by your phone ringing in your pocket. Wiping at your face, you reach for the device, lifting it to your ear.
“Hello?”
“Are you okay?” 
“I really don’t have time for this right now, Ghost-” you groan, closing your eyes at the familiar voice-modulated sound.
“You do have time,” he insists. “Tell me what happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“I just saw you running through the library. Looked like you were crying.”
“I wasn’t crying!” you nearly yell. 
“Liar. Come on, Tiny, let Ghostie make you feel better.”
The affectionate-sounding nickname prompts you to wipe your eyes. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”
“I was in the library, don’t get your panties in a twist.”
“Was?”
“I’m gone now, can’t have you figuring out who I am before Halloween.”
“Would it really be so bad if I did?” you question. “It would make me feel better.”
“Look at you, using your bad experience to try to swindle me,” you hear him laugh, and there are more sounds now, as if he’s walking across campus. “Seriously, Tiny, tell me what’s going on.”
“Do you always walk around campus with a voice modulator?”
“It’s an app on my phone babe, now answer my question.” 
“You didn’t ask a question, you commanded me to tell you what happened, and I’m not taking commands right now.”
He sighs. “Will you please tell me what’s making you cry?”
Your lower lip trembles. “It’s stupid.”
“Nothing that hurts you is stupid.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
“It looked like you needed a friend.”
“You’re not my friend. You’re some guy who got my number and gets hard by pretending to be Ghost Face from Scream.”
“I could be your friend. Could be more than your friend. And I’m not hard right now. Not after seeing you cry.” 
You take a breath. “I applied for a job and I uh… they didn’t hire me.”
“Then they’re stupid.”
“Maybe I’m stupid.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m a girl who’s spent three days talking to a guy who keeps his identity a secret, and for some crazy reason, you’re actually making me feel better. That definitely makes me stupid.”
“No, it makes you soft. It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“Yeah?” you sniffle. “What else? And don’t say my ass in blue jeans.”
The man chuckles. “You’re soft, and kind. But you’re a fighter too. You’ve got a spark. Don’t even get me started on how smart you are-”
“And how would you know how smart I am?”
“For starters, you’re in the top-scoring sorority on campus,” he points out. “Whenever you come to trivia night, you wipe the floor with all of us. Mark talks constantly about how much you help him with his classes, which brings me to my next point, you care about charity. That’s a great sign of your character.” 
“You do know a lot about me, don’t you, Ghostie?” His words have stopped your tears, and you cradle your phone close to your ear. 
“Still not a stalker though.”
Now he even has you laughing. “Jury’s still out on that one.”
“You sound better already,” he muses. “Mark has a free block right now, I’m sure if you call him he’d take you for ice cream or something to distract you.”
“That’s a good idea,” you admit.
“I’m full of good ideas.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it, Tiny.”
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Tuesday pt 2
“This guy sounds like a full-on stalker,” Mark says for the sixth time as you grab ice cream and sit inside while a storm passes, rain splattering the windows.
“I mean, if he knew your schedule, I’m guessing he’s someone close to you.”
“He’s stalking us both, I don’t like it.”
“But he’s nice.”
“He’s stalking you, Tiny!” 
“He’s not!” you insist. “A lot of people were at the library today… honestly, I think… I think Ghostie is kind of sweet.”
“Ghostie?!” Mark stares at you in shock. “You’re calling him Ghostie now?”
“It’s cute, right?”
“It’s crazy is what it is!” Mark leans back in his seat, frowning. “This is giving me the creeps.”
“Well, it’s spooky season.”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t think any of my frat brothers would pull crazy shit like this. They’re mostly pretty chill dudes.”
“So you think he’s lying about being in NCT?” you ask, cocking your head to the side.
“I think he’s definitely lying,” Mark confirms.
“Well, agree to disagree.”
Mark studies you for a moment. “Look, the only guy who’s a freak like this is Yuta and he swore up and down to me yesterday that he’s not calling you with a fucking voice modulator.” 
“I don’t think this is Yuta.”
“Because you’re a Ghostie expert now, huh?” He scoffs loudly.
“Yuta’s not really a stoner,” you point out. “And besides, I can’t explain why I know it’s not him, I just have a feeling.”
“Yeah, is that feeling in your pussy by any chance?” 
“Mark Lee!” you gasp, scandalized by his choice of words. 
“Be real with me!” he insists. “You wouldn’t be entertaining this if it wasn’t… I don’t know, turning you on? Are you turned on by stalkers? Is this why you like Halloween so much?”
“Okay, maybe I am turned on, but that doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“It just makes you crazy,” Mark groans, running a hand through his hair. “I swear to God, when the dude reveals himself at the frat party, it better be one of my frat brothers and not a serial killer. And also, I’m going to fight him.”
“Something tells me he’d beat you,” you giggle.
“Now you’re trying to make me feel bad.”
“Says the guy who just called me crazy.” You grin, knowing that you’ve won.
“This whole thing is crazy.”
He has a point about that.
Wednesday
You’ve been waiting all day for a call from Ghostie, and it comes right before you’re about to head to bed. You practically launch yourself at your phone, putting it on speaker and saying “Hello?” as if you don’t know who’s on the other end of the line.
“Hey you, feeling better today?”
“You tell me, mister stalker.”
“I haven’t actually seen you today, it was a bit of a shame if I’m being honest.”
“Yeah?” God, this man has way too much power over you. “And why’s that, Ghostie?”
“Because I’ve been looking at your Instagram, but you’re cuter in person.”
“Do you follow me?” 
“We’re mutuals.” 
You’re mutuals with pretty much the entire NCT frat, it would have been more helpful if he’d said he’s not a follower, although, now that you think of it, that had always been unlikely. 
“Still trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you, Tiny?”
“Of course.”
“Remember when I was listing your good qualities? Patience wasn’t one of them.” 
“That’s so rude of you,” you say, although, you’re grinning at your phone.
“Here, I’ll make it better. I have an idea for you.”
“Let’s hear it then.” You get comfortable on your bed, wondering what he’s about to say.
“If you want a job, there’s this bar on campus, Skeets. Have you heard of it?”
“Who hasn’t heard of Skeets?” You roll your eyes. 
“They let just about anyone work there. A few of the NCT guys are bartenders, I’m sure they’d put a good word in for you with the hiring manager, he’s also a member of the frat.” 
You haven’t been to Skeets in ages, and you try to remember who you know amongst the staff. “Wait, you’re right- doesn’t Hyuck work there?”
“He does… This is the second time you’ve mentioned him, got something of a crush, Tiny?”
“Would that make you jealous?” you tease.
“I’m not the jealous type,” he states. “But yeah… it would.”
“Don’t get your Ghost Face mask in a knot, I don’t have a crush on Hyuck. In fact, if you turn out to be Hyuck and I find out you lied to me about your identity, I’m going to be really mad.” 
“I’m not Hyuck.”
“Good.” You consider his proposition for a moment. “Do you really think they’d hire me?”
“It doesn’t hurt to try.”
“You know, on Sunday, if someone had told me you’d be helping me find a job not three days later, I would have said they were crazy.”
“Guess I like to keep you on your toes.”
“I think you just have a major soft spot for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
“I can’t. I promised not to lie to you.” 
God, he makes you so giddy it’s insane. 
“Are you going to come stalk me at Skeets if they give me a job?”
“Goodnight, Tiny.” He’s avoiding the question, and you can hear him grinning through the phone.
“Night, Ghostie.”
It’s the first time he’s the one to hang up on you, and it leaves you wanting more.
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Thursday
Ghostie had assured you that Skeets hires just about anyone, but that doesn’t help the anxiety building inside of you as you prepare to take your resume into the bar. 
You even do a Wonderwoman pose outside while waiting for Skeets to open, breathing deeply to psych yourself up while you go over possible interview questions just in case the hiring manager wants a chit-chat today.
“I love working in a team environment,” you say quietly to yourself, closing your eyes and running through responses. “The most important thing is that the guests feel welcome.”
The sound of something dragging across the cement ground has you practically jumping, lids flashing open as your head whips toward the noise.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt your mantra,” the tall fratboy laughs, setting up the wooden sign with the daily drink menu just in front of the door to the bar.
“It’s fine,” you assure him, swallowing thickly. 
The man in front of you is Johnny Suh. He’s two years older than you, and you know him through Mark. When guys join a frat, they’re assigned a ‘Big,’ an elder frat brother to guide them through the process. Johnny is Mark’s big, and he’s always been nice to you whenever you’ve crossed paths.
You would call Johnny an acquaintance, not a friend, but he’s still a friendlier face than you may have expected to see upon your first moments interacting with Skeets staff. 
“You coming inside, Tiny?” Johnny asks.
“Yeah, sorry John, one sec, I just need another deep breath.” You wave your hand at him, turning your back and gulping down air while you hold your bag tight to your front, the resume within practically burning a hole in the leather.
The hot fratboy heads back inside and you finish calming yourself down. 
You can do this. You can get this job.
As you enter the bar that’s just open, you realize there are only a few staff members kicking around so far. Kim Jungwoo is rearranging chairs, and Lee Donghyuck is sitting on a table looking at his phone. Johnny Suh is behind the bar, and you decide you should probably talk to him, so you try to act confident as you walk through the small establishment.
Johnny’s brown eyes raise as you approach, and he offers you a small smile. “Tough day?”
“What?” You blink at him, settling against the bartop.
“You looked kind of off outside, and most people don’t come in to day-drink this early.”
“Oh, uh… I’m not here to day-drink.” You let out a tiny laugh. “Actually, I came to see if you guys were looking to hire new staff members, I brought my resume.”
You reach into your bag to pull out the papers, and you hand them over to Johnny.
His eyes scan the first sheet. “Wow, a cover letter, I’ve actually never seen one of these.”
People don’t apply with cover letters? The idea is kind of shocking to you.
Johnny hardly looks at your resume, setting it down in front of him to address you instead. “What makes you want to work at Skeets?”
“In all honesty, I need a job. I’m dependable, and I’ve got a decent schedule to work in the food service industry. I like working as part of a team, and I’m already friends with a lot of the staff here, so I thought it might be a good fit.”
Johnny nods, assessing you. “Have you bartended before?”
“I’ve got my qualifications to serve alcohol, but I’ve mostly had waitressing jobs,” you admit.
“At Skeets, we all do a bit of everything. Would you be open to learning how to mix drinks?”
“I’d be very open to it,” you nod. 
“Then let’s give it a shot,” Johnny smiles warmly at you. “You’ve got good timing, we actually just had to let go of someone for excessive drinking on the job. I was going to put a wanted ad up today, but looks like that won’t be necessary.”
“Are you…” you swallow thickly, “are you serious? I’m hired?”
“Yeah, why not?” 
You can’t help the squeal of delight that rushes through you, and a massive grin makes its way onto your face. You even jump a little, and Johnny seems to enjoy your excitement, smiling from ear to ear while you celebrate. 
“When can you start?” he asks next.
“I can start tomorrow! I mean, if you need me that soon.”
“Tomorrow is a big night here at Skeets, the Friday before Halloween. We could use the hands, but it will be a busy one, do you think you can handle that?”
You’re quick to nod. “Of course. But I uh… I should let you know, I can’t work Halloween, I promised a friend I’d meet them at your frat for the party.”
“Don’t worry about Saturday,” Johnny assures you. “Sigma Veta Tau has their frat party tonight, so it’s all us NCT guys working, and tomorrow we’ll switch. As much as Seungcheol is a good comanager, I don’t trust him to teach you how to mix drinks on Halloween.”
“So… you’re going to be the main person training me then?” you ask.
“If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself,” he confirms. 
You can’t help but beam up at the tall frat boy, overjoyed at this turn of events. As cute as Johnny is though, part of you is excited to tell Ghostie about this when he inevitably calls you tonight. 
Your life is definitely a little crazy.
“So, how about you come in tomorrow at seven?” Johnny suggests. “The bar will be open past midnight, but I figure I can show you a few things before it gets busy around ten, and then I can let you go early.”
“I’ll be here at seven.”
“And when it comes to what you’re wearing, we’ll give you a Skeets t-shirt,” he pulls at the black fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. “Other than that, you can wear any color of jeans and some sneakers.”
“Perfect.”
“You’ll be paid for the training shift, I’ll tip you out in cash, and if it goes well, we’ll get your banking details at your next shift after that,” Johnny explains. “I’ve got your number here on your resume, so I’ll be in contact with you on Sunday, how’s that sound?”
“Sounds like a dream.” You literally can’t stop smiling.
“Tiny’s going to learn to mix,” Johnny says fondly, “Mark’s going to love this.”
You already feel close to Mark’s big, and the opportunity to work with him is a good one. Johnny is one of the more well-known nice guys at the frat. Sure, he’s got a little bit of a dangerous edge to him, just based on his massive stature alone, but he’s generally a big softy bear. 
“Thanks again for this, Johnny,” you beam. “I won’t let you down.”
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Thursday pt 2
“Hyuck said our favorite Tiny sorority princess got herself a job today.” 
“Hello to you too, Ghostie.”
“I wanted to cut to the chase and congratulate you.”
“I wouldn’t have gotten the job without you,” you admit. “So… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” your mystery man says, and you can hear that classic grin of his. “I’m sure you got it on your own merit.”
“Apparently no one’s ever brought a cover letter with their resume before.”
“They must have been impressed.” 
“Hired me on the spot.”
“That’s my girl.” 
Your insides flutter. You like the way it sounds when he calls you his girl. “How about your day, Ghostie? Stalk any new girls?”
He laughs. “Only one girl worth stalking, which, I don’t do, by the way.”
“Sure you don’t.”
“My day was long,” he says finally.
“Yeah, it’s nearly midnight, I was thinking about going to sleep but…”
“But you wanted me to call,” Ghostie finishes your sentence for you.
“When you say it like that it sounds kind of depressing.”
“It’s not depressing, Tiny, it’s cute.”
“Cute?” 
“I like that you’re getting used to me.”
“You know… if you decided not to show up to the Halloween party- if you never called again, I think… I’d wonder who you are the rest of my life.” It’s a moment of vulnerability, and your heart races in your chest while you wait for his response. 
“I wouldn’t do that to you, Tiny,” Ghostie promises. “I’ll find you on Saturday, and not in a stalker way.”
“What costume are you going to be wearing?” 
“If I tell you, you’ll just show up and scour the whole place looking for me.”
“You know me too well, don’t you, Ghostie?”
“What are you going to wear, pretty girl?”
You literally kick your feet at the term of endearment, body buzzing. It takes a moment to collect yourself. “Honestly? I’ve got a Ghost Face mask hanging around somewhere.”
“And here I was being told I’m the one who gets hard pretending to be Ghost Face.” 
“Well… even though I don’t know you, not really, I think I got that one pretty accurate, didn’t I?”
“Maybe a little.”
“I thought you said you were big,” you tease.
“Okay, maybe a lot.”
You bite at your lip. After the great day you’ve had, it’s difficult not to feel flirty. “Are you hard right now, big guy?”
He groans, and even under the voice modulator, something tells you the sounds he makes are sexy as fuck. You can feel your panties getting wet. It’s dirty, but in the best possible way.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” you grin.
“You’re being bad, Tiny.”
“Says the guy who’s literally hard right now.”
The other end of the line is silent for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“What if… when we meet, you’re not interested in me?”
Well, this has just taken a turn. How did you go from horny thoughts to insecurity? 
It’s a valid question though, one you should have asked yourself by now, but for some reason you haven’t. You think about it for a few seconds. 
“I feel like… I know it’s been less than a week of talking but, you’re not like any other guy I’ve ever met. And not just because you’re calling with a voice modulator.” You let out a laugh. “You ask how my day is, and you care to hear my answer. You even helped me get a job, which is crazy to think about. For some weird reason, I think when I meet you, the emotional connection is already kind of there, so no matter what you look like, you’ll be more attractive to me.”
“You really think so?” 
“I mean, NCT is known for having hot guys, so I’m not sure who you could be that would turn me off. There are only a few NCT guys I’d say a hard no to at the moment.”
“Yeah? Who?” 
“Well, Doyoung and I have never gotten along, but I know you’re not him because he doesn’t touch weed. I dated Jeno for about a week, and I know enough about him to know I don’t want to do anything with him ever again, and also, that you’re not Jeno because he’d never ask me how my day was going-”
“What an asshole.”
You laugh. “All things considered, Ghostie, I think you’ll do just fine.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Is this why you’ve been doing the whole voice modulator thing? You’re worried I won’t be interested in you?”
“It’s one of the reasons,” Ghostie admits. “I also worried that if I did hit on you, you might think I was only trying to get you into my bed, which, yeah, it would be nice, but… as perfect as your body is, it’s not the most interesting thing about you.”
What a scrumptious take; A guy calling you up and using anonymity to prove to you that this connection isn’t only about sex. 
Your heart softens.
“Ghostie, you might be one of the sweetest guys I know,” you admit.
“More than your best friend Mark Lee?”
You laugh. “Maybe not, Mark would never do something like this. You’re a bit of a paradox that way, aren’t you?”
“If you say so, Tiny. As much as I’ve liked this talk, I think I should let you sleep. Halloween is two days away and I’m sure we’ve both got a lot to do before then.”
“What if I don’t want you to go just yet?”
“Then I’d remind you that patience is a virtue.”
“You’re such a tease.”
“Good thing we have an emotional connection so you’ll forgive me for it. Night, Tiny.”
“Night, Ghostie.” 
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Friday 
Your first shift consists of shadowing Johnny. He’s a fabulous teacher. He’s calm, patient, and very encouraging. The first few hours are a breeze, but the bar gets increasingly packed as the night goes on.
It’s a little overwhelming, but Johnny helps keep you steady. He gives you the easy drink orders, things like beer and simple cocktails. While you’re filling a cup from the beer tap, he’s busy mixing five to ten different things into one glass for items on the Halloween special menu.
There’s something sexy about a diligent worker, and his beefy arms are all bulgy and hot in his tight Skeets shirt. You can tell that a lot of girls come up to the bar specifically to order from him. There are two other bartenders, but Johnny’s line is notably the longest.
You’ve had your own share of interested men pop over to say hi. There are very few frat boys here tonight, as there’s a party in full swing in the Greek village, so most of the guys coming up to grab a beer from you are people you don’t know.
Many of them are dressed up in costumes, and it’s interesting to try to guess some of the more obscure clothing choices.
Anytime you see a man in a ghost costume, your mind shifts to your mystery caller. You wonder if he’ll pop by tonight- but other than the men already working with you, no NCT boys walk through the front door. 
No Ghostie.
There’s not one second of reprieve, but staff need breaks, and finally, just before midnight, Johnny pulls you both for a breather. 
“Are you sure the others can keep up while we’re gone?” you ask, looking back at the swamped bartenders.
“They can manage,” he assures you, guiding you through the back staffroom to a door that leads to an alleyway behind the bar. “I know I’ve kept you on longer than I thought, but it’s just been so busy. How are you holding up?”
The cool night air is a drastic difference from the heat and humidity inside, and you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and enjoying it. “I’m doing alright,” you tell him. “You’re the one making the difficult drinks.”
“I’ve been mixing cocktails for years,” he brushes it off, reaching into his back pocket. 
“Well, it shows.” You watch to see him pull out a rolled joint, and next comes a lighter.
“Want some?” he asks, lifting the joint to slot between his perfect lips. 
“Are we allowed to smoke on the job?” 
“Hyuck was prescribed Vyvanse last year, so he’s practically on coke all shift,” Johnny grins, lighting the end of the joint and taking a puff. “Besides,” he lets out a deep breath of smoke, “in the service industry, sometimes you need a little buffer.”
Skeets really is a chill place if the hiring manager smokes weed on breaks with subordinates. 
“I didn’t realize you were a stoner,” you muse.
“Most of us frat boys are,” Johnny admits, pulling the joint from between his lips. It’s placed casually between two fingers, and his other hand ruffles through his pretty hair. “It’s a nice night.”
“It is,” you nod, looking up at the sky. Stars are twinkling in the dark
“I’m glad you joined the team, not sure we would have been doing so well without your extra set of hands.”
“I’m really grateful to have been given a trial shift,” you smile softly.
“Well, just so you know, it’s more than a trial shift. You’re hired.” He nudges your shoulder gently, and your grin only grows.
“Thank you.”
Johnny takes another drag from his joint. “Sure you don’t want a puff?”
“I really shouldn’t-”
“I’m going to let you go home pretty soon after this,” Johnny tells you. “So it won’t affect your performance that much.”
You wonder if this is a test, but… at the same time, you don’t think Johnny’s the type of guy to test you this way. 
You give in, accepting the joint and bringing it to your lips. It’s been a while since you smoked one of these, and your first tiny hit leaves you coughing, passing the joint back to Johnny while you try to catch your breath.
He grins while watching you, and you get the sneaking suspicion that Johnny thinks you’re cute. 
“Thank you,” you say, coughing again.
“You’ve got good manners, don’t ya, Tiny?”
You nod, wiping at the tears that have formed in your eyes from the smoke. 
“Who... who do you usually smoke with?” you ask.
“Why? You a cop?” Johnny jokes.
“No, it’s just uh… God, I could tell you the whole story but you wouldn’t even believe me if I did,” you find yourself laughing. “Just… I didn’t know you smoked, so, I’m wondering if maybe there are a few other guys in your circle who do too.”
Johnny looks you up and down. “Like I said earlier, Tiny, almost all us frat boys partake in mari-ju-ana.”
It’s clear he’s not going to give you any information that could help you figure out who your Ghostie is. You suppose you really will just have to be patient.
In less than twenty-four hours, you’ll be finding out who your mystery caller is, and the suspense is absolutely killing you.
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Friday pt 2
It’s twelve thirty when you finally get home, and you’re very tired. But at the same time, you’re awake. You take your time getting ready for bed, ignoring the loud party sounds outside and around the frat village while you wait for a call from Ghostie.
As one am rolls around, you start to realize that maybe tonight you won’t get a call.
He is a frat boy, and this is Halloween weekend. 
You’re disappointed as you get into bed, frowning as you scroll on your phone, hoping that if you wait another five minutes, maybe he’ll catch you. 
Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen, and you find your eyes beginning to shut.
You’re starting to understand how much you truly have come to depend on Ghostie as part of your nightly ritual. It hurts not to get a call from your favourite voice-modulated anonymous frat boy.
You try to self-soothe by assuring yourself you’ll meet him tomorrow, but it doesn’t really help. 
Tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable, you fall into a blissless sleep.
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Saturday 
You’re groggy when you open your eyes, but you still go to check your phone. There’s a missed call notification from an unknown number at three am, and suddenly you’re wide awake, bolting up in bed.
“Hey, Tiny, it’s me.”
As if it could be anyone else.
“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you last night. I was pretty swamped with Halloween stuff. But if it makes you feel any better, you were definitely on my mind.”
Here you are kicking your feet again.
“Probably won’t get a chance to talk to you until the party, I really do hope you come… in uh… more ways than one.”
God, he makes you wet.
“I get it if you’re a little mad at me for not calling earlier, and I promise to make it up to you when I see you, if you’ll let me.”
He’s so oddly respectful.
“But I get it if you don’t want to do anything at the party. I’ve enjoyed talking with you this week, and if that’s all it’s going to be then I won’t hold it against you. Anyways, goodnight, see you soon.”
Saturday pt 2
You feel cute tonight. You’d taken your Ghost Face mask off almost as soon as entering the frat, but the little black dress you’re wearing is enough to capture a lot of attention. 
Every frat boy that comes up to you makes your heart race, but none of them reveal themselves as your Ghostie. 
You’re actually beginning to get a little frustrated, and after two hours of floating around hoping to find your mystery man, you head with Mark to his room for a break.
Mark’s roommate, Hyuck, is sitting on his bed, bong already out and resting on one thigh while scrolls through his phone. He looks up when you enter, smirking. “Finally, smoking buddies.”
“You texted me like two minutes ago to come up here,” Mark rolls his eyes. “Have some patience.”
“Not in my nature,” Hyuck insists, setting his phone down and reaching for his lighter. “First hit is mine.”
As if you expected anything less. 
You watch him inhale the thick cloud of smoke, holding it for a moment in his lungs before he lets out a deep exhale. “Fucking hell, he groans, that was a good hit.” 
Mark takes the bong and Hyuck falls flat against the bed, closing his eyes and smiling.
“So have you found your stalker yet, Tiny?” Hyuck asks.
Your gaze flashes to Mark. “You told him?”
“He was curious why I was asking for a stoner list,” Mark defends himself. 
“Whoever the dude is, he’s got balls,” Hyuck says wistfully. 
There’s a knock on the door, and Jaehyun pokes his head inside. “Heard we’re smoking?”
“Yeah, come in!” Hyuck waves his hand, still collapsed on his bed.
The door is pushed open wider, and you catch sight of Johnny standing behind Jaehyun. Your new hiring manager flashes you a wink as they enter, and the door is shut firmly behind them. Jaehyun goes to sit with Hyuck, but Johnny approaches you, taking the seat next to you on Mark’s bed. 
“How’s your night going?” Johnny asks.
“She’s waiting for her stalker to come kidnap her and fuck her brains out,” Hyuck says loudly.
“Your stalker?” Johnny laughs.
“Some guy has been calling her all week,” Mark tries to explain.
“It sounds worse than it is,” you insist, feeling the need to defend Ghostie. “He’s only a little perverted.” 
“And you’re into that sort of thing?” Jaehyun questions, cocking his head while Mark takes a puff from the bong and hands it over.
“Not usually,” you admit. “But… this guy is different.”
“You don’t even know what he looks like,” Mark groans, collapsing in his desk chair and running an anxious hand through his hair.
“That doesn’t matter,” you insist. 
“Fucking girls, dude,” Hyuck laughs, sitting up and watching Jaehyun smoke from the bong. “You know what we need?”
“More weed?” Mark suggests.
“Yes, but also, shots.” Hyuck’s eyes shift to Johnny. “Not the shit from downstairs. The good stuff.”
Johnny lets out a chuckle. “You want something from my secret stash?”
“The tequila you brought back from Mexico,” Hyuck nods.
Jaehyun lets out a puff of smoke, holding the bong out for Johnny, who shakes his head. 
“You’re not taking a hit?” Jaehyun asks, staring at Johnny in hazy shock.
“Not tonight,” Johnny responds. Then he turns to you. “If neither of us are taking a crack at the bong, how about you come help me grab the tequila?”
“Careful, John,” Hyuck teases, “She’s not interested in you, she only has eyes for this Ghostie dude.”
Mark shoves Hyuck’s knee and Johnny simply grins. “Come on Tiny, you don’t want to get secondhand high on a night like this.”
He’s right about that, and you stand with him, heading to the door. Johnny’s so tall and broad, and you try not to stare at his shoulders, but it’s extremely difficult not to appreciate his large form. 
“What’s your costume?” you ask. 
“Oh, this?” He pulls casually at his black tshirt. “I’m a serial killer, they look like everyone else.”
“Very original,” you laugh, falling into step with the tall fratboy as you make your way down the crowded hall. 
“My room is on the top floor,” he tells you, heading to the stairwell and holding the door open for you. “I like your dress, by the way.”
“Thanks, it goes with this.” You hold up the Ghost Face mask to show it to him, and his grin widens while you climb the stairs.
“You’re gonna have to let me try that on.”
“I’m uh… I’m actually saving it for Ghostie to try,” you admit, feeling a little silly with how loyal you’re being to your mystery caller.
“He’s a lucky guy,” Johnny muses.
“Here’s to hoping it goes well,” you sigh.
Johnny doesn’t respond to your comment, and as you reach the top floor he guides you three rooms down, using a key to unlock the door before he holds it open for you. “After you, Tiny.”
The space is the same size as Hyuck and Mark’s, but it only has one bed. “I didn’t realize they had single rooms here,” you say, looking around. 
“There’s only a few, and I’ve got seniority,” Johnny explains. He closes the door behind him, walking over to the large closet. 
You take in the decorations. It’s unmistakably a frat boy's room, but much cleaner than you’re used to. There’s a gaming station, and a mini fridge that you’d guess is full of beer. A clothing rack shows off some of Johnny’s more sophisticated tastes. 
You’re curious about what else he has in his stash, so you join him by the closet, peeking inside. “We’re looking for tequila right?”
God, he has a whole shelf full of expensive bottles of booze. 
“Uh huh,” Johnny nods. “Should be in the back here somewhere.”
“Isn’t this tequila?” you ask, pointing to a bottle he’s brushed past.
“Close,” Johnny flashes a grin at you before continuing to rummage, “but no cigar.” 
You freeze. 
It’s been nearly a week since your first interaction with Ghostie, but you remember that interesting turn of phrase like it was yesterday. 
But- it can’t be. 
Johnny can’t be your mystery caller-
Can he?
“Found it,” Johnny announces, pulling an immaculate bottle of tequila out. His gaze lands on you. “You alright, Tiny? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I mean… have I?” 
He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”
“You’re…” You swallow thickly. “Are you my Ghostie?”
Johnny meets your gaze with a steady look. “Does it upset you?”
It’s not a clear confirmation, but it’s a confirmation nonetheless. 
You stare at him in absolute shock for a moment. He looks insanely gorgeous tonight, all broad, with his pretty lips- without even knowing what you’re doing, you find yourself throwing your arms around him and burying your face against his chest.
Johnny freezes, obviously startled by the sudden contact, but then he’s wrapping you in a tight embrace. One of his hands finds the back of your head, and he cradles you close.
Neither of you say anything, you simply hold each other while you come to terms with everything. 
He’s so stupid for ever thinking you wouldn’t want him-
You do want him. You want him so bad-
Pulling away from his chest, you tilt your chip up, reaching for his face. You cup his cheek while you move on your tiptoes to press your lips against his.
He appears just as shocked at this movement as when you’d hugged him, but he eases into it all the same, kissing you back gently.
But you don’t want gentle, you want him.
You’re pent up from a week of teasing, and you shift in his embrace, wrapping both arms around the back of his neck while you glide your tongue against his lip. 
Johnny lets out a groan, his mouth opening for you while his hands slip down to tug your waist closer.
The kiss deepens and now it’s your turn to release a moan, pressing your tits closer to his chest. He feels like heaven against you, and his lips are absolutely magic. His tongue glides gently against your own. You can taste beer, but it’s not unpleasant, in fact, it turns you on even more.
You thread your fingers through his hair, dragging your nails against his scalp-
“Fuck,” Johnny mutters against your mouth.
Then he’s bending down, hands grabbing at your ass and prompting you to jump. You wrap your legs around his hips and he carries you effortlessly, closing the distance to his bed.
Instead of tossing you down, he sits on the mattress and suddenly your knees are digging into his charcoal duvet. You’re on top, fingers in his hair, your tongue licking at his lip, and you’ve never felt so powerful.
It gives you the confidence to wiggle your hips a little, and you’re pleased to find he’s already growing hard in his jeans. God, he feels big- and your pussy throbs at the idea of what you’re going to do to him tonight.
You’re in a dress, and your panty-clad core feels delightful against bulging denim. Johnny’s grabbing at your bare thigh, kneading your flesh, and it makes you moan desperately. Not only is he skilled with his tongue, but his hands seem to know what they’re doing too.
Suddenly he’s grabbing at your hair, tugging you so you arch your head back, giving him access to your throat. His mouth feels amazing as he begins to lick and suck on your neck, finding your sweet spot way too easily-
“Who-” You swallow thickly. “Who gave you my number?”
Johnny laughs against your skin, pulling away to look up at you with dark eyes. “Mark did.”
“Mark?!” You’re in absolute shock now. 
“Gave it to me during finals last year,” Johnny explains. “But… we both had busy summers and…” one of his hands sneaks down to guide your hips, helping you grind against him, “I guess I wasn’t sure how you felt about me.” 
“You’re crazy!” 
“Maybe a little,” he admits. “I’m also Mark’s big, and it’s not like you and I have ever been close.”
“But you’ve liked me for a while, haven’t you, Ghostie?” 
He groans at the nickname, looking up at you with eyes full of wonder. “Longer than you know.”
You wish you could say you’ve felt the same- but in all honesty, you have always seen him as Mark’s big. As an older fratboy dad type-
The way he’s acted with you this week has inklings of that protective daddy personality you know and enjoy, but… he’s not been particularly dad-like. He’s shown you a new side of himself, and you’re so fucking happy he did.
“You know, when Mark finds out you’re my stalker he’s going to flip.”
“I wasn’t stalking you,” Johnny insists, grinning up at you as he applies more pressure to your hips, making you grind against him harder. 
“God, you even hired me for a job-”
He laughs. “It wasn’t favoritism, you had a cover letter, the bar owner was even impressed.”
“You’re so bad- this whole time you’ve been mind fucking me. I would have never guessed my Ghostie worked at Skeets.”
“Well, I do have a minor in psychology,” he admits. “Figured the best place to hide is in plain sight.”
“You even smoked a joint in front of me and I never guessed-”
“Yeah, I was playing with fire with that one,” Johnny laughs. 
“It’s funny. I was so busy thinking about being loyal to Ghostie that I was trying not to check you out last night.” 
“And I’m so lucky to have you. You wouldn’t even let me put on your Ghost Face mask, so busy saving it for Ghostie.”
“Saving myself too,” you note, grinning down at him.
“Yeah?” 
“We’ve talked every night since Sunday- I haven’t cum in over a week.” 
“Fuck, Tiny,” Johnny groans. “I guess I better help you out then.”
“Really? How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll let you stay on top for a while, let you grind against me until you’re begging for me to tear your dress off.” He pulls at the strap on your shoulder. “Then, I’ll flip you over, get on my knees, and eat you out like the good girl you are, stretching you open with my fingers.”
“And then?”
“When you’re shaking and delirious from cumming, I’ll fuck you right. Bet you’ve never really been fucked right before.”
God, you definitely haven’t. At least- you know you’ve never been fucked the way Johnny is about to fuck you.
“What if I already want you to tear my dress off?” you ask, grinding down against his cock.
Johnny lets out a low groan, grinning at you. “Tiny, you’re nowhere near begging yet.”
“I’m not?” You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his throat before your teeth drag against his earlobe. “Please, Ghostie, I’m already so fucking wet, you wouldn’t believe it-”
He laughs, hand finding your hair again. He tugs you away from his neck, pressing his lips to your own and kissing you hard.
He takes your breath away. His tongue is perfect, licking and tasting- making you moan loudly while you work your hips, swiveling on his denim-covered cock.
“Fuck, Ghostie, you’re so fucking big-”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he promises, grabbing a fistful of your ass and squeezing so hard it almost hurts. But the pain is wonderful, and you cry out in ecstasy, working yourself harder against him.
If it wasn’t for his enticing cock, you think you could make out with him like this forever. 
You just want to be naked, so you grab at your dress, intent on lifting it off-
Johnny stops you. “I’ve told you patience is a virtue, haven’t I, Tiny?”
You groan in annoyance. “John, please-”
“Ghostie,” he corrects you.
You don’t even care- you simply grab his hand, guiding it between your legs. His fingertips brush over your soaked panties, and you gasp at the feeling of him, immediately grinding down, looking for relief.
“Fuck-” you moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.
He begins to circle your clit through your thong and you’re forced to grab at his shoulder to steady yourself, whimpering loudly. 
“Shit, Tiny, you’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers.
“I need you,” you gasp, feeling an orgasm already bubbling in the pit of your stomach. “Please, move my panties to the side-”
Johnny doesn’t question you this time. He pulls your thong away, easily burying two large fingers into your wet, needy core.
Now you’re really gasping. You lean forward, wrapping both arms around his strong shoulders and burying your face against his throat. “Oh my God, Ghostie- don’t stop-”
“You’re going to cum from this, aren’t you, pretty girl?”
You nod desperately, swiveling your hips so your clit can rub against the palm of his hand while his fingers work you open. 
“So good,” you whimper. “So fucking good-”
Johnny groans, curving his fingers and stroking your gspot.
You squeal in his lap, thigh muscles clenching while your pussy begins to throb around the foreign intrusions. You’re so close to the edge you can almost taste it.
“Want you to cum for me. Wanna hear your sounds while you drip down my hand.” 
Fuck, he’s way too sexy, voice all low and seductive. He’s breathing hard, and you can tell you’re turning him on just from riding his fingers-
“Come on, Tiny, who’s my good girl?”
“I am-” you gasp, digging your nails into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you straight on. 
You moan loudly, burying your face against Johnny’s neck. You’re panting against his skin, wiggling your hips while his fingers continue inside of you, driving you absolutely insane. Waves of pleasure are overtaking your form, and your mind is completely blank, overwhelmed by the feeling of ecstasy that Johnny provides for you.
“That’s it,” Johnny encourages you. “So fucking good for me.”
You’re shaking on his lap by the time your high is over, and you press wet kisses to his throat, earning groans from your Ghostie. 
You reach down for your dress, lifting it up and off your body. Johnny pulls back, watching you with dark eyes. He takes his fingers out of your wet pussy, bringing them to his lips to clean. But he’s not done there, as you toss the fabric to the floor, Johnny offers you his digits next. 
You lock eyes with him for a moment before leaning forward and accepting, taking his wet fingers into your mouth and helping suck them clean. You groa at the taste of yourself. Johnny watches the motion, his free hand finding your hip and forcing you to grind down against his cock. 
“You’re so hot, Tiny,” he says, removing his fingers from your lips.
“Wait till you see me naked,” you grin, reaching behind yourself to undo your bra. 
It falls away easily, and Johnny’s large hands cup your breasts almost immediately. His head dips, eyes taking in your newly exposed skin. “Fuck, how does a girl get this perfect?”
“How does a guy get a massive cock like yours?” you counter, rubbing yourself against the front of his jeans. 
“Touche,” he chuckles, leaning down to lick your nipple. 
You thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him to show more affection to your chest, which he’s more than happy to do. His large hand cups your right breast while he worships your other with his mouth, suckling on your nipple. His teeth drag gently against the sensitive bud and you moan loudly, rocking your hips all the while.
“As much as I’d love to keep sucking on your tits,” Johnny sighs, lips moving up your throat again, “I’d rather be between your legs.”
“Ghostie, do whatever you want to me,” you instruct, feeling delightfully submissive.
“You got it, Tiny.” 
In one easy motion, he flips you so your back is on the bed. Johnny pulls away from you, sinking to his knees at the edge of the mattress before grabbing you and tugging you closer. He tears his own shirt off, giving you a great view of muscles that make you even wetter. Then he grabs your panties, sliding them down your legs so you’re completely bare for him now.
Johnny doesn’t say anything, he simply licks his lips and dives into you. His tongue parts your folds, dipping inside to taste your walls while your legs shake around his head. “Fuck, Ghostie-”
You reach down to grab his hair, applying enough pressure to his head to let him know you’re enjoying what he’s doing… if he can’t already tell from your desperately needy moans. 
His lips move to suction on your clit and a squeal escapes you, your back arching slightly at the sensation. 
You’re sensitive from having cum already, sensitive from having not cum all week only to be getting this much attention now. But you’re also probably sensitive because this is Johnny, because there’s been a build-up that’s left you ready to pop, and he seems intent on making you pop multiple times for him.
“Oh my God,” you whimper, eyes closed, abdominal muscles tensing with effort as his skilled tongue works you up again. 
Johnny groans against your pussy and it’s one of the sexiest things that’s ever happened to you. Your grip on his hair tightens, your core throbbing with pleasure already.
When he adds two fingers into your dripping hole, you know you’re not going to last, but you don’t think he wants you to.
In fact, you’d bet that Johnny himself is just about ready to explode. You can’t believe he doesn’t have his cock out yet- can’t believe he’s so intent on making you cum twice before getting any satisfaction for himself.
“Fuck, Ghostie-” You want to tell him how close you are to cumming, but you can hardly get the words out between your moans. “I’m- holy shit-”
Johnny finger fucks you even harder, his mouth focusing on your clit, and you’re pretty sure he’s understood your garbled attempt to warn him, pretty sure he wants you to cum.
You allow yourself to find your release, your back arching again as you tug on Johnny’s hair, keeping his face between your legs. You grind down slightly, your body chasing your orgasm as it surges through you like fire in your veins.
Johnny lets out a low groan again, and your entire body twitches at the extra stimulation. You’re gasping now. Nothing has ever felt this good-
To his credit, Johnny tries to help you through your entire orgasm, but he pulls away before you’re truly finished. You can feel him panting against your pussy, and when you open your eyes to look down at him, you find Johnny staring at you with the horniest expression you’ve ever seen on a man.
“Ghostie-” you whimper, shifting against his duvet. 
“Condoms,” he says, pulling his fingers out of your core and standing up.
“I’m on birth control,” you tell him quickly, making him freeze. “And if we’re both clean-”
Johnny practically moans at the idea, looking down at your body. “Does my Tiny want to be filled up all nice and good?”
Now it’s your turn to groan, and you nod, licking your lips. You sit up next, feeling your skin heat at the words you want to say, “I also… I wanna suck you off first.”
Johnny approaches the bed again, towering over you. It’s hard to focus on his eyes when his abs and strong biceps and veiny forearms are drawing your attention, but when he cups your jaw it makes things easier. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”
“You pretty much stalked me for a week,” you tease, grinning.
Your Ghostie lets out a laugh. He doesn’t bother to check you on the word ‘stalking’ this time, even though he’s always been adamant that’s not what he was up to. It’s nice to have this little win, and as a reward for him biting his tongue, you reach out to undo his belt.
As the buckle unclasps and you move to his zipper, there’s a loud banging on the door.
Johnny looks over his shoulder and you can hear Hyuck screaming “Tequila!” 
The frat boy in front of you lifts his finger to his lips, a shushing motion, and then he reaches into his back pocket for his phone. You bet he’s going to text Hyuck some lie about not being in the room, but you’re too horny to slow down.
You get his jeans undone and you bundle your hands up in all the fabric, roughly tugging them down.
Johnny lets out a groan when his large cock slaps up against his abdomen, and he moves his phone to the side to give himself a better view, holding it with one hand while raising a brow at you.
You’re on your knees at the foot of the bed now while Johnny stands there, and you steady yourself, grabbing the base of his cock. With one last wink at Ghostie, you lean forward, kitten licking his length from balls to tip.
The man above you quickly types in the text, then tosses his phone to the side, his large hand coming down to cup your cheek. You take this as a sign to accept him into your mouth, so you do exactly that.
He’s so large and thick- you haven’t sucked cock in a while, and you’ve never sucked a cock as big as his. You know you can take your time, Johnny’s always been patient with you. 
You start by paying attention to the head, swirling your tongue around him and getting used to his size. Your eyes close, mind focused completely on your task. You’re already drooling from this, and you can feel your saliva dripping down his shaft. You smooth your thumb along the new trail of spit, helping lube your hand so you can begin to pump his cock.
“Fuck,” Johnny groans, tightening his grip in your hair.
You try to sink your mouth further onto his cock, but it’s difficult. He’s just so huge-
Your pussy throbs knowing that soon, this monster dick is going to be inside of you-
Without any lube that you’ve seen so far, you want to make him as slicked up as possible, and it helps that you’re drooling from how sexy all of this is.
His cock hits the back of your throat and you gag slightly, powering through the uncomfortable feeling as you glide your tongue along his shaft. You’re not a quitter.
“Holy fuck, Tiny-” Johnny praises you. “You don’t have to try to take more than you can handle-”
But you want to. You want to pleasure him the way he’s pleasured you, and his words only prompt you to suck harder, earning more groans from the man above you.
“You’re so good at this,” he continues his words of encouragement, and they do help you take him deeper. His voice is smooth, sexy, and thankfully not modulated in any way. 
You’ve never realized how nice John’s voice really is. 
You apply more pressure with your hand, pumping him faster-
“Okay, okay-” Johnny tugs gently on your hair, prompting you to pull off of his cock and blink up at him in confusion. “I have to fuck you now. I’m done waiting.” 
You let out a tiny mewl, nodding. 
Johnny kicks off his jeans completely, pressing a knee onto the bed. He leans down to kiss you, and then he’s grabbing your body. In one easy motion, he tosses you a few feet up the mattress, so your head can land against the pillows.
God, he makes you feel truly Tiny- it’s one of the sexiest things ever.
He takes his place between your legs next, lips finding yours. One of his hands cups your cheek, and the kiss deepens, his tongue invading your mouth while your arms wrap around his strong shoulders.
You can feel his cock sliding between your pussy lips, and it’s almost embarrassing how wet you are, how much drool you’ve left on him. 
“Please-” you whimper. You can’t wait another moment either, you have to know what he feels like. You reach your hand between your bodies, grabbing his cock so you can line him up with you properly. “Ghostie, I can’t-”
He kisses you, cutting you off. Something tells you Johnny understands, and the moment you have him properly situated, he begins to push into you.
You gasp against his lips, letting go of his cock so you can grab his shoulders. He’d worked you open with his fingers two times over, but nothing compares to this. You can feel your walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth, and it leaves you practically brain-dead.
“Let me know if it’s too much,” Johnny tells you, lips moving to your throat so he can suck on your sweet spot while he continues to burry into your hot, wet core.
You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, closing your eyes while the feeling of him overtakes you. You’ve never moaned like this before, never felt anything like Johnny-
He groans loudly against your skin, gently thrusting, coating his cock in your juices to make things easier-
The moment his hips hit flush to yours, his full cock buried inside of you, you both gasp. Johnny grabs at your hands, interlocking your fingers and pinning them to the pillows on either side of your head.
“Fuck, you’re so big, you’re so-” You can’t even think, especially not when he takes another test thrust.
His cock drags against your inner walls and you cry out, body tingling. 
“You take me so well, Tiny,” he praises you, mouth still hot on your throat. “The perfect fit.” 
You can’t speak, not now, but you can squeeze his hands and tilt your head to the side, kissing his cheek. Johnny takes the cue to bring his lips back to yours, and you’re immediately lost in yet another breathtaking makeout session.
He’s moving slow, fucking into you at a gentle pace, allowing your body to get used to his massive size. 
But you’re feeling particularly desperate, and greedy. “More.” 
“More?” He laughs. “You sure about that?”
You nod, eager to be decimated by him. “Please, ruin me-”
Johnny groans, letting go of one of your hands so he can press his palm flat to the bed, giving himself more leverage. He begins to fuck you faster, and each meeting of his cock to your core has you whimpering like a whore in heat.
“You make the cutest fucking sounds,” Johnny breathes.
Only he - with his cock making you feral - would call your noises of pleasure cute.
He’s so stupidly endearing.
“Fuck, Tiny, you’re dripping- making this too fucking easy for me.” 
It’s absolutely embarrassing how wet you are. He’s gliding into you with no issues now, and each movement is like heaven. The head of his cock hits a spot deep in your stomach- you can’t help but reach down, pressing your palm to your abdomen-
You can feel him rearranging your guts, and you both groan when you apply a bit of pressure.
“Deep, huh?” Johnny lets out a moaned chuckle. 
“So deep-” you agree, words slightly garbled. 
“I’ve just started with you and you can hardly speak,” Johnny muses. “Wonder what’s gonna happen when I make you cum again.”
You cry out desperately, removing your hand from your stomach so you can claw at his hair, bringing his lips back to your own.
You’re tired of thinking- all you want to do is experience this, experience him, at your fullest- and boy, are you fucking full.
Johnny lets go of your other hand, reaching for your thigh. He adjusts it higher on his hip and suddenly he’s driving into you even deeper.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you gasp loudly against his lips. Johnny traces his tongue along your teeth, and you can feel him smirking.
You love that he’s enjoying this- enjoying watching you come completely undone for him.
“You know,” he says, “if you keep squeezing me like that, I’m not going to last long.”
You don’t even care. You know this isn’t the only time you’ll be fucking this man- and after cumming twice already, your body is near its limit of pleasure, if that’s even possible. In fact, there’s something very sexy about making a man cum quicker than he’s used to, and your pussy clenches at the thought. 
“Fuck,” Johnny groans again. “Can I flip you over?”
At this point, you’ll agree to any request, and you nod quickly, biting at your lip.
With one last kiss, Johnny pulls away from you. His cock slips out of your core and you whine at  the loss, only for his two large hands to grab your waist and manually turn you onto your stomach. Then he adjusts your hips, pulling you up into doggy position.
“If you need to scream, use the pillows,” Johnny warns you, lining up with your pussy again.
The first thrust has you doing exactly that. You bury your face into the pillow, letting out a loud cry as his cock hits deeper than before. 
This position might just kill you, but you don’t care.
His hands feel so good- so large and warm and steady on your hips as he finds an even rougher pace.
You can hear your ass smacking loudly against his front with each thrust and it only adds to your arousal. 
Bunching your hands up in his duvet, you do your best not to be so loud that the whole frat will hear you. But it’s so difficult not to just melt under him- 
You can feel your eyes welling with pleasure-fueled tears, and it drives you crazy.
“Fuck, you like this position, don’t you, pretty girl?”
“Yes, Ghostie!” you gasp, nodding while his cock continues to make you feel like absolute heaven.
“You look fucking perfect like this,” he tells you. “Face down, ass up. Pretty soon you’ll be begging for me to fill you up even more.”
His words flip a switch inside of you. “God, yes, please-” you cry out. “I want it so bad-”
“Want what?”
“Want your cum,” you whimper. “Wanna be so full-”
Johnny groans, grabbing rough fistfuls of your ass while he fucks you even harder. 
“I need it, Ghostie, I need it-” You’re crying now, and Johnny notices.
He bends over your back, bracing an arm across your chest so he can lift you onto your knees. He cups your jaw, thumb stroking through a tear track. “Holy shit, Tiny,” he moans, mouth hot against your shoulder. 
“Please, Ghostie, please-” you whimper, lower lip trembling-
You’re so close-
Johnny lets go of your jaw, and his hand slips down your front. You jolt when his fingers make contact with your clit, wriggling in his grasp.
“I’m almost there, Tiny,” he admits. “Watching you cum will tip me over the edge- you’ll be good and cum for me, right?”
All you can do is nod. Words are gone. Your mind is blank except for the pleasure that’s coursing through you.
Your noises are getting pitchier, and Johnny works you all the way to your peak. You gasp loudly as you topple over the edge, core clamping down hard on his cock.
Your legs feel like jelly, and Johnny releases you, allowing you to fall to the bed while your orgasm ravages your form. You’re clawing at the sheets, burying your face in his bed to muffle your screams-
His hands are bruising on your hips, and you hear him let out a loud groan. You can feel him filling you up, his motions faltering ever so slightly. His breath is hot against your shoulders and it’s added stimulus that makes you twitch, so completely overwhelmed that it almost feels like you’re about to black out.
But you don’t want to miss a second of this. His groans of pleasure keep you in the moment even as your mind is in a sex daze. 
Johnny rides you through your high, thrusts slowing until he comes to a stop behind you. 
You’re both breathing heavily now, and Johnny stays still for a moment, enjoying the last of your orgasm aftershocks. Then he flattens his chest to your back, hand falling to the bed next to  your own. 
“Holy shit,” he breathes. 
You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and it makes Johnny groan as your core clenches again.
He kisses your shoulder, lips oddly tender in comparison to the way he just blew your back out. 
“Ghostie-” you whimper, wanting to collapse on his bed from exhaustion. 
“Stay still, I’ll get something to clean you up,” he assures you, pressing one last kiss to your skin before straightening from your back. 
You miss his warmth as soon as he’s gone, and you especially miss his cock when it slides out of you. 
You feel him get off the bed, and a moment later, something begins to drip down your inner thighs. He really filled you up, and it makes you twitch. You reach a hand between your legs, cupping your core and rolling onto your back on his bed, trying to breathe properly.
Johnny is back a second later, and you can feel his gaze on you.
“Spread these thighs for me, Tiny,” he says gently, touching your knee. 
You open your eyes, and then you open your legs. 
Johnny moves your hand out of the way, letting out a groan. “You have no idea how fucking hot this is-” he tells you, wiping your core clean of his cum. 
You still don’t have it within yourself to speak, you can only watch him toss the tissue in the garbage before you’re making grabby hands at him.
Johnny laughs. He sits on the bed next to you, leaning against the headboard before scooping you into his lap. He’s so fucking big, and he makes you feel safe cuddled in his arms, your cheek pressed to his chest.
His heart is still racing, and it makes you feel better to know you’re not the only one who’s so affected by this.
Johnny’s fingers begin to thread through your hair, and he simply holds you while you come out of subspace. 
The party is still in full swing outside, and it’s an interesting feeling to have such a private moment with Johnny in the middle of a frat on Halloween. 
“Do you think anyone heard us?” you ask finally.
Johnny laughs. “Don’t worry about it,” he says soothingly. 
You pull away from his chest, looking up at him. His hand moves to cup your face and you press your lips to his. It’s a much gentler kiss than he’d given you mid-fuck, and it eases your racing heart. 
“Ghostie?”
“Yeah, Tiny?” 
“I like you a lot.”
He lets out another chuckle. “I like you too.”
“We’ll do this again sometime, right?”
“Of course, Tiny.” His hand smooths up and down your back. “I’d also like to take you on dates, if you’ll let me.”
“I’d like that,” you nod, relaxing against his chest again. “And… and when you call me, no more voice modulator.”
“No?”
“I like your voice, your real voice.” God, you’re feeling so soft and mushy for him.
“I like your voice too.” For a second, it’s a sweet moment, and then Johnny continues, “Liked listening to your whimpers.”
He’s such a frat boy, but you kind of love him for it. “Did you like my tears too?”
“Only if they’re for a good reason,” Johnny says. “If anyone else ever makes you cry, I’ll have to fuck them up.”
“My protective Ghostie,” you grin, leaning up to kiss the underside of his jaw.
“As much as I’d love to stay cuddling you forever, I should probably bring the boys some tequila,” Johnny sighs.
“The boys,” you echo. “I feel like I’ve just fucked Mark and Hyuck’s dad.”
“Do you have a daddy kink, Tiny?”
“For you, I have any kink you want,” you laugh. 
“I like the sound of that.”
“Just… kiss me again?” you ask. “We can bring tequila after.”
“Are you sure you want to come with? You can stay here and I’ll come back-”
“We should…” you lick your lips, “we should be social.”
“I just fucked your brains out and you want to go be social?” Johnny grins. “Maybe I didn’t work you over well enough.”
“You worked me over perfect,” you laugh, grabbing at his jaw so you can press your lips to his.
Johnny melts into the kiss, and there’s something in it that feels like coming home. You’ve never felt this safe with a guy before, and it’s kind of starting to scare you.
If you were to stay here- you think you might even fall in love with Johnny… that is, if you haven’t already.
You pull away from your Ghostie, letting out a sigh. 
Getting out of his lap isn’t fun, and your legs are wobbly as you stand next to the bed, but Johnny’s hands go to your hips to steady you.
When he stands, he towers over you, and you’re overcome by your thirst for him all over again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, bringing him in for another kiss. 
It’s so easy to get lost in making out with Johnny, but you have to tear yourself away, nodding, “Tequila.”
“Tequila,” he echoes. “Can you stand by yourself?”
“I’m okay,” you assure him, but it still hurts when he lets you go. 
Johnny pulls on some sweatpants while you find your dress-
“You’re not putting that back on,” Johnny tells you, moving to his closet. “Let me give you some clothes.”
“Are you trying to announce to Mark and Hyuck that we’ve fucked?” you laugh, accepting the large t-shirt he throws your way.
“Trust me, Tiny, they’ll know.”
“Yeah? How’s that?”
“After this, I won’t be able to keep my hands to myself, and something tells me you won’t be able to either.” Johnny pulls on a hoodie, grabbing the tequila and turning to you. “I know you, remember?” 
You grin, pulling on the pair of black boxer shorts he’d also sent your way. “Maybe a little too well.” 
“Or not well enough,” Johnny suggests, approaching you again.
“You’re such a sweet talker.”
“Only for you,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again. “You look cute in my clothes.”
“Do I look like I just got fucked senseless?”
“Definitely.” 
“Mark’s going to hate you,” you laugh.
“He’ll get over it,” Johnny brushes it off, reaching for your hand. “Ready to go?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” 
“You can still stay here if you want.”
“No, let’s face this now.” You need to be firm, need to get out of this love den before you find yourself even more loved up.
The two of you head to his door and Johnny holds it open for you. 
In the time you’ve been fucking, it looks like a lot of people have dispersed from the party, so walking through the hallway isn’t exactly a walk of shame. However, when you get down the stairs to Mark’s floor, you realize you still have to pull up your big girl panties to face him.
“I’m going to run to the bathroom,” you tell Johnny, “I’ll meet you in Mark’s.”
“You don’t want me to come with you?”
“To the bathroom?” you laugh. “I think I’m good.”
With one last kiss, you make your way to the frat bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s important to go pee after sex, for UTI reasons, your sorority big sister has drilled that into you since first year. When you’re done, you head to the sink, daring a look at yourself in the dirty mirror.
You look fucked, but you also look happy. 
In fact, you can’t stop smiling. 
After washing your hands, you dab some water on your throat, hoping it will calm you down. Once you feel good and ready, you exit the bathroom.
Mark’s door is open when you get to his room, and you poke your head inside. 
Jaehyun and Hyuck are on one bed, Mark and Johnny on the other, and they’re all lifting shots to their mouths. As you step inside, Mark’s gaze shifts to you. He takes in your new outfit and his eyes widen, then he spits out his shot, coughing loudly. 
Johnny’s hand finds Mark’s back while he practically coughs up a lung, and then Mark is leaping to his feet. “What-” His eyes dart between you and Johnny, and you can see the realization there. 
“Jesus, Mark, learn how to handle a shot,” Hyuck scoffs.
Mark doesn’t even entertain Hyuck, he simply turns to his big, pointing an accusatory finger at Johnny’s chest. “You’re Ghostie!?”
Johnny stands up. “You’re the one who gave me her number last year.”
“I what?!” Mark’s eyes are practically bulging out of his head now.
Hyuck and Jaehyun exchange a look, and Hyuck reaches for the tequila to pour another shot.
“Mark, it could be worse-” you say, trying to de-escalate the situation while stepping further into the room.
“How could it be worse!?” Mark bellows. “My Big is a stalker!”
“He’s not a stalker,” you defend Johnny, coming to join your tall new lover, your hand reaching for his.
“You’re her new boss!” Mark insists.
“Hyuck fucked our last bar manager,” Johnny points out.
“Guilty,” Hyuck smirks over the rim of his new shot.
Mark’s still not having any of this situation. “This is fucked up.”
“Mark, I’ve told you a million times, it’s spooky season.” You can’t help but giggle. This has been such a turn of events, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.
“You better not hurt her,” Mark says next, trying to meet Johnny’s gaze even while substantially shorter. 
“I won’t,” Johnny promises. 
“This is just-” Mark shakes his head. “Fuck this, I need to sleep.”
“We can move the party to my room,” Jaehyun says, already grabbing the bottle of tequila while Hyuck reaches for his bong.
It’s clear Mark’s done talking, and he collapses onto his bed face first like a tantruming toddler. You’ll discuss this with him another day, but you know now is probably not the time to push him to accept that his Big has a whole different side to him that Mark’s never seen. 
As you leave the room with Hyuck, Johnny and Jaehyun, Hyuck elbows you in the side. “I always knew you’d end up with one of us.”
“Yeah?” you laugh, gaze shifting to Johnny and Jaehyun who walk a few feet ahead of you.
“Once an NCT girl, always an NCT girl,” Hyuck nods. “And between us…” he leans closer, “Johnny is a good one.”
Your Ghostie looks over his shoulder at you, and you meet his gaze with a smile. “He is,” you agree. “Hey, John?”
“Yes, Tiny?” He stops at the door to the stairwell, holding it open and allowing you to catch up.
“I changed my mind, I think I am done with the party tonight.”
“Yeah?” Johnny smirks. “Gonna come back to my room?”
“If you invite me.”
“Tiny, my room has an open-door policy for you now.”
“Is that so?” you wrap your arms around his neck, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips.
“Uh huh,” Johnny grins. “And free cuddles, anytime you want them.”
“I like the sound of that,” you confess. 
“Just get married already!” Hyuck shouts back at the two of you as he climbs the stairs with Jaehyun. 
You and Johnny can only laugh at Hyuck. Your willpower is completely gone, and you allow your Ghostie to take you back to his room. 
He cuddles you close as the party dies down outside, and you find yourself slipping into the best sleep of your life on Halloween night with your Ghostie by your side.
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☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! Halloween is my favourite Holiday, and there's something about Johnny and horror genre that makes me go feral
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🔮 preview. There’s no way he should be this fucking sexy. You’re outside in the cold, parkas on, a Santa hat on his head, a joint between his lips,  both your jeans down to your knees, his hand over your mouth to stifle your moans, and he’s about to fuck you against a wall with his massive cock- you’ve decided that Johnny as a whole is simply illegal.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism in an alley, weed use, slight temperature play, big dick Johnny, quickie, cum kink/filling panties with cum while at work, praise, dirty talk, size kink, hand over mouth silencing, choking, etc… I pet names: (hers) Tiny, pretty girl, good girl. (his) Ghostie.
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.5k I teaser wc. 275
🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!reader
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bonus
You’ve been dating Johnny for a month and a half and you still can’t get enough of him. Whenever you pop over to the frat, it’s not long before one of you is dragging the other to his room. There’s never been sexual chemistry like there is for you and your Ghostie.
You’d never thought your biggest hurdle in the workplace would be refraining from jumping your bar manager, but here you are, every shift, practically drooling over him. Each brush of his hands across your body as he moves behind you to grab something makes you want to tear his clothes off, and your patience is at an all-time low. 
With Christmas fast approaching, the bar scene has substantially dwindled, and it’s making you even more needy. When Skeets only has a handful of customers, you fill drink orders while thinking about sucking on Johnny’s cock. 
It doesn’t help that he’s started wearing a Santa hat- why does it make him even sexier?
As Johnny smiles and makes casual conversation with a pair of girls sitting at the bar, you do your best to calm yourself. At the end of the night, you’ll be the one in Johnny’s bed, you just have to get to closing.
You notice in the periphery of your vision that the girls are finishing up with their drinks. Johnny excuses himself to grab the card reader, and as he slips past your ass, you feel his hard cock in his jeans. It’s difficult to stifle a moan, and you do so by biting on your lip. 
He loves teasing you, especially while you’re at work, and it drives you absolutely mental.
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lisired · 2 days
Text
whisper
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pairing: actor/dad’s best friend!doyoung x actress!reader
genre/warnings: smut, dilf!doyoung, cheating, secret love affair, age gap (21+), minor impact play, loads of praise with a hint of degradation, protected and unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy), oral (f receiving), fingering, non-idol actor!au, yet another special appearance by mark lee, taeyong is mcs dad im sorry.
summary: When you were nineteen, you could only dream of meeting Kim Doyoung in his sheets. Behind his back you watched all the movies he starred in, wanting nothing more than to be the one he touched whenever a sex scene came on. So when the opportunity surfaced four years later after you’re casted together in the same movie, you didn’t hesitate to snag it - even if it meant hiding from his wife, your father, and the public. And even if feelings developed.
word count: 8.9k
a/n: 2/4 of the Temptation series. Feedback is appreciated!
Doyoung was doing what people called, “living the dream.”
More like he did an excellent job at convincing people he was. There was something humorous to you about the article concerning the allegedly perfect life of your co-star. It summed his life up as, “happily married with a child, thriving with a successful career in the entertainment industry, and age having yet to catch up to him.”
You supposed what they said wasn’t entirely false. Thirty-six years into his life, Doyoung was still fairly young. He had a beautiful wife, a beautiful daughter, and loved his job with a passion, but beneath all of that beauty was the ugly he had carefully tucked out of the public’s prying eyes. His marriage was more loveless and affair-filled than the show he put on gave away.
And you were a culprit.
The story was a long one. For you, it started when you were nineteen. That year was a grand one for Doyoung as he was getting booked left to right and it begun his legacy as “the actor with the steamy sex scenes.” You watched every single movie. Scene after scene, you wondered how he made something so hot look so realistic, and imagined being the one under him.
Little did you know, your dreams would come true four years later. When you were asked roughly two years ago to star alongside Kim Doyoung in an upcoming romantic drama by the name of Whisper, you couldn’t deny the opportunity. A part of you feared what your father would think of the role, considering Doyoung was a good friend of his, but you were relieved when he wasn’t bothered. He called it “the beauty of acting.”
It was too bad that everything you felt for Doyoung was unable to be faked. You were far beyond attracted to him, on a level that the public nor your father, should’ve, would’ve, and could’ve ever known.
A knock jerked you from your thoughts. Your father stood by the door, peering in as he announced, “Hey, love. Doyoung’s here.”
Fighting your smile was too hard. Now that you were going to star in a movie together you and Doyoung met up often these days, even though you no longer were in the stage of what he dubbed perfecting your chemistry (but all that ever meant was sneaking away into his sheets.)
It stung to wonder if he slept with all his co-stars. No wonder their sex scenes looked so natural, the emotion had to be raw.
Shoving the thought into the back of your head, you rose from your bed and replied, “Alright. I’ll be back tonight, love you.”
“Love you too, dear. Have fun!”
Doyoung was standing outside the front door when you arrived there. He smiled gently, outstretching his hand kindly and waiting for you to slip your fingers between his, which you did promptly. “Missed me?”
Oh, did you. With the movie being a priority for you both, there was never a large gap in between times that you saw one another, but your new-found attachment to Doyoung made every second seem to drag on. You woke up every morning and couldn’t wait to see him.
You groaned, “You have no idea.”
Doyoung chuckled. He opened the car door for you and once you were seated, leaned into your ear and whispered, “Why don’t you show me how much when we get home?”
There was no confusion on how he managed to persuade you into his sheets. On-screen and off-screen Doyoung was relentlessly sexy, and his voice alone sent shivers down your spine. You loved when he whispered dirty things in your ear like that. It was gentle yet hot, and made your whole body tense with desire.
“Y-yeah,” you murmured in your best attempt at feigning unaffectedness. Actor to actress however, Doyoung could see right through you. He knew you wanted him and it amused him how poor of a job you did at hiding it. 
On the way to his house, you tried to think of anything but the surge of arousal between your thighs. What you were meant to be doing was crafting impeccable chemistry. Doyoung was an actor known for his undeniable chemistry with his costars and the raunchy sex scenes that came from them, and you being his best friend’s daughter made you no exception to his streak.
You were to play the role of a mistress of an heir who had his life painted perfectly and was adored by his country. In reality, his marriage was complicated and brittle and he turned to a mistress to relieve himself of the things he couldn’t seek in his wife. It was almost amusing to you that the drama seemed to hit the nail on the head when it came to describing what your relationship had become. You’d be damned if anyone said the acting was anything less than extraordinary - all of the emotion was real.
The car ride came to an abrupt end with your thoughts. Doyoung helped you out of the vehicle and barely let you breathe when you both stepped inside his house. He was pressing you back against the door in a matter of seconds, lips targeting your neck as his fingers worked hungrily to undress you.
“Fuck,” you moaned softly. He was making you impatient. “How much time do we have?”
“The whole day if we wanted. Maya took Daphne to see her grandmother this weekend, and they’ll be gone until Monday morning.”
That sounded like heaven. With the feeling of Doyoung’s body on yours, you were relieved to know that you could savor it longer, without having to race to pleasure. You two had also been working actively on the movie a lot harder than it seemed right now, and these little sexcapades were like much-needed breaks.
As if he could read your mind, Doyoung teased as he slid your shirt down your shoulders, “Bet you like the thought of fucking me all day, huh? You want me all to yourself?”
“Doyoung,” you whimpered.
“Shh, don’t worry, baby,” he crooned, sweeping you into his arms and making a move towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna take care of you.”
It was almost telepathic. There was a mutual understanding between you both that went beyond sex, and that was how you landed yourself in this predicament in the first place; you understood his needs, he understood yours.
“I missed you, too,” Doyoung announced quietly as he pushed your panties to the side, helping himself to your pussy. “I’ve been thinking about you.”
You replied in the midst of a moan, “Thinking about me?”
“Mm-hm,” he hummed and leaned closer to your ear, “A lot. Thinking about you under me. On me. Thinking about how needy you are and get from the smallest things. Thinking about how cute you sound when I touch you and how shy you get when I tell you what I wanna do to you.”
His honesty would be the death of you. Doyoung was open yet tender in the way that he expressed things, completely unafraid of intimacy and letting you know that he wanted you. He never let you forget that he adored every aspect of your body, showering you in kisses and more often than not, praises in the form of whispers.
You were weak, and it didn’t help that at the same time he was telling you things that made your heart race, his fingers were also pacing in and out of you. He was no longer a want - you needed him inside of you, now.
“Fuck me already,” you cried, your patience dissipating rapidly.
Disapproving of your attitude, Doyoung delivered a smack to your thigh that made you cry out once more. “Where’s your manners?”
You had forgotten them - and anything that wasn’t the growing ache between your thighs, for that matter. It was safe to say that your eagerness had taken over you, although you knew Doyoung would give you everything you wanted as long as you behaved. He was always gentle unless you gave him a reason to be the opposite, and that was on rare occasions. But once he decided to show you no mercy, you were doomed. And you didn’t even want to think about not cumming.
“Doyoung, please fuck me,” you corrected yourself, adding for good measure, “I need you. So bad, it hurts.”
He hummed, satisfied. “Well we can’t have that, can we?”
Doyoung withdrew his fingers and whirled you around, hushing you with a kiss before you could whimper any complaint. All you could focus on was the taste of his tongue in your mouth, grounding yourself with his shoulders as the gesture had caught you off-guard. Meanwhile he was tugging your panties off, with help from you as you lifted your legs.
He cupped your pussy again and you moaned into his mouth before he parted and asked, “You want me?”
“Yes,” you replied a little too fast. “Please.”
“Then show me.”
It was obvious what he meant by showing him. He wanted you to ride him, and you weren’t one to argue. You’d take Doyoung in any position he was willing to try. You just needed him in you.
Doyoung was never too bent on specific positions, either. He was always the one in control, but he was firm enough in himself that he didn’t need to be on top to show power. Even if it was your body making the movements, it was him telling you what to do. Most of the time you had no problem bending to his will.
Right now was one of those times. You yanked down his boxers, discarding them onto the ground with your own underwear in a hurry and didn’t hesitate to reach out for his hard-on. With you already straddling him, you took the base of his dick in your palm, placing on him the condom he passed you then slid onto him.
The two of you moaned in perfect sync once you sank down on him. You could come up with several perks of fucking Doyoung, but one of your favorites was that no matter how much he liked to whisper, he was a vocal moaner by nature. Doyoung was a master at silencing himself whenever he deemed it necessary, however you loved when he refused to restrain himself and even more that he was unashamed; he loved expression through sex and pleasure.
He sounded like an angel, too. It felt like traveling through a portal to heaven whenever Doyoung moaned your name.
Doyoung asked once you had adjusted, “How you feeling, baby?”
“Good,” you sighed out in bliss. He was so deep inside you that you could barely breathe. “And full.”
“Of course. You take it like no one before you, baby girl,” he praised, and all the while you felt like the room was spinning.
Doyoung was indirectly stating that you were a better fuck than his wife. You didn’t like to think about Doyoung fucking other people when it wasn’t movies, but there was a reason that he was balls deep inside you right now instead of her. Everything that she could do, he realized, you could do better. Much, much better.
Deflecting the attention, you asked, “How do you feel?”
“I’m good too, baby. You’re so fucking tight,” Doyoung growled with zero hesitation. He was so fucking hot. You saw him barely fighting the utmost smug grin when you clenched around him.
He was better than anyone else before him too, in every fashion. No one had ever made your skin swelter the way Doyoung had. He said a word or made a bare touch and it was as though your whole body was consumed by flames. Somehow he made every moment feel as blissful as the first time, and every touch grazed upon your flesh by his fingertips lingered on you for days. Memories of what you’d done always replayed in your mind until you could have another taste.
Doyoung couldn’t be paid to keep his hands off of you. He steered you with a single hand clutching your waist and the other played to its content on your chest, bearing in mind that you always loved when he touched you there. Your body was a diamond to him - beautiful and precious, and he never got bored of you. Doyoung had seen you bare and naked an ungodly amount of times before, but each time he fell endlessly in love with it over and over again. He was utterly sure that he could never get bored of fucking you, and the feeling that accompanied it.
He pressed kisses to your neck, murmuring in between, “You ride me so good, baby.”
You were certain that you could explode. Doyoung had too much power over the entirety of your body. He made your pussy throb but your heart hammer, and sometimes he made you so nervous you wanted to cower. But there was nowhere - nothing to hide. You were both naked and exposed, skin to skin, uncovering your deepest emotions with the sex.
There was nowhere to run and you didn’t want to be anywhere if it wasn’t beside him.
The rest of the day dragged on like that - you and Doyoung fucking each other’s brains out, taking turns with different positions. You’d fuck, take a break to do something productive, then ultimately wind up having sex again. There was no self control when it came to either of you, you couldn’t keep your hands to yourselves. 
And frankly, you didn't want to.
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As an actress, maybe facades should have been second nature to you. You were the daughter of a director and sucked into the industry due to nepotism - it should have been practically flowing in your bloodstream. But you underestimated just how hard pretending you weren’t hooking up with one of your dad’s friends was.
Especially his best friend.
The reason your dad trusted Doyoung so much was because they were close, having known one another since before you were even a thought meandering in your parents’ mind. Your dad mentored Doyoung since he was nine years old until he didn’t need it anymore. That also meant he was around you often - around your entire family. Including your dad. Ignoring the rhythm of your heartbeat when he was around you and the uneasy tension between you became easier with time, but subduing the feeling completely was impossible. Much less possible when he found ways to tease you in secret.
You were at a party at your dad’s house and Doyoung had been unabashedly eye-fucking you all evening long. That alone made it obvious what he wanted, but it was all in the way he touched you too. Locking arms with you and grazing his hands against you seductivelyf when no one else was looking. It was risky, but you had to admit, it made it a little fun.
By the time the party was over though, you were sure all that lust had dulled into fatigue. Doyoung looked worn-out and gone as he rested on the couch, the last of your guests and unable to drive home because of how much liquor he’d consumed. That was what you overheard him telling your dad, at least. He insisted on getting an Uber, but your dad told him to take the guest room and some Aspirin in the morning.
Doyoung pulled your dad in for a brief hug. “Thanks, Taeyong. See you in the morning.”
“Of course,” Taeyong replied. “And go easier on the alcohol next time. You know you can’t handle too much.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” Doyoung teased.
With a laugh, your dad patted him on the back and wished him goodnight, then went to join your mother in bed. You peered from around the corner, suspicion bottling up in your chest. It was possible that he was, but you didn’t want to be faced with the disappointment of it being true.
Arms folded across your chest, you asked, “You really drunk, babe?”
For a split second, Doyoung had looked surprised to hear you accusing him of feigning his intoxication. Then it wore off, and he chuckled. He looked around the hallway, and once he confirmed that you both were alone, admitted, “You caught me.”
You were a bit shocked to know that he was sober, but not that he’d feign inebriety - that didn’t surprise you. If Doyoung was set on having something he’d stop at almost nothing to get what he wanted. He did a damn good job at fooling everyone, too. You were under the impression that he was drunk and only confronted him for your own sake.
“Of course,” you murmured, then pressed, “May I ask your motive?” you had already known, but for some reason you wanted to lay down some cards to see what move he’d make.
Doyoung saw right through you, however. He always did. He leaned in and whispered, “Don’t play dumb with me, baby. You know exactly what my motive is.”
And like always, that had you ready to drop your panties in a heartbeat.
“Meet me in the guest room in 30,” he commanded, then turned away in the direction of said room.
No more than thirty minutes later, you were in bed with him. This time he was the one hovering above you, and it made you feel as though you were being preyed on - a billion times more susceptible to anything that he desired to do to your body and you loved it. Doyoung was in full reign. He always had been, but something different sparked whenever he was constantly making the moves for you.
“Want it?” Doyoung asked in between short-lived kisses, ones that never felt like enough no matter how many he pressed to your skin because he was adamant on not applying enough pressure to result in marking you. Lord knew it was all he ever wanted, but it was too risky. Not only would your family grow curious, public speculation would grow about a possible love affair.
You breathed out, “Need it.”
Doyoung chuckled, yet every sign of amusement faded the very moment he prodded the head of his dick inside you. There was nothing but sheer pleasure swarming his face like gloomy storm clouds. Reminding himself that you weren’t necessarily alone, he bit his lip to suppress the sounds he was ever so tempted to make.
You, on the other hand, subconsciously leaned towards the careless side. This wasn’t your first rodeo, but the problem was that the experience never dulled the more you had sex; it did the opposite. Each time was better than the last and you struggled to hide how much Doyoung aroused you. Every single touch, thrust, and whisper had you falling apart at the seams. You simply couldn’t resist emitting even the quietest of moans and although Doyoung loved hearing you moan for him, he needed you to keep your voice to a minimum.
“Shh,” Doyoung whispered, cupping his palm over your mouth as he looked you dead in the eye. “Don’t want your daddy to know that I’m fucking you limp, do you?”
You shook your head in vehement denial. Although the walls were thick and the guest bedroom and your parents bedroom were on entirely different wings, Doyoung still didn’t want to get too comfortable unless the house was completely vacanted. You didn’t blame him. It was much better to be safe than sorry.
“Then stop being a brat and shut your mouth before I have to do it for you.”
That tempted you to fuck around and find out what that entailed, but you wouldn’t take the risk here. Instead you bit down on your lip and squeezed your eyes shut whenever he made a sharp thrust.
Other noises that were beyond your individual control made it all too obvious that you were having sex. The slight creak of the bed and the slapping noise of your skin joining together whenever Doyoung thrusted his hips into yours. All it would take was someone wandering a little too close in proximity to the bedroom to tell what was going on, but as forementioned, your parents were on the opposite wing. That made it easier to focus on Doyoung. The way his mouth fell agape in silent moans or his teeth dug into his bottom lip to conceal his pleasure. The way his grip on your waist tightened whenever you clenched around him. Whatever it was he did, you were completely entranced by his reactions.
Doyoung only mirrored your awe as he watched the way your cunt swallowed him greedily. He could see the print of his bulge flat against your stomach and it sent him into overdrive. If anything, he only began pounding you harder in spite of the noise, leaving you to grip the sheets for dear life and let your eyes roll back.
“Always so tight for me,” Doyoung growled. “Don’t I fuck you enough?”
You whimpered in response as quietly as you could, “I need more.”
“My greedy little slut,” he sighed out in bliss, hips seemingly rocking into you deeper as he fulfilled your wish. Something about him claiming you as his possession was exhilarating to you. You were his greedy little slut. “Gonna fuck you all night long, baby.”
God, you knew he could. It wouldn’t be the first time Doyoung fucked you right into the mattress round after round, until you physically and mentally tapped out - and it damn sure wouldn’t be the last.
Having sex with Doyoung was everything nineteen-year-old you dreamed it would be, and then some. The movies had nothing on the real experience. They were graphic and arousing, but having Doyoung hold and touch you already made you feel as if your head was in the clouds. He made you feel wanted with his kisses and praises directed to you specifically, and the sexual tension between you was practically as good as the sex itself. Every moment with him was intimate and there was nothing better than being able to say that you had the Kim Doyoung in your sheets.
Then there also wasn’t some big explanation. Doyoung simply fucked you good and gave you sex on the ceiling. He knew your body inside out and was your greatest vice. It was natural that you were inclined to come back to someone who fucked you better than anyone else.
Doyoung’s pace began to quicken yet his thrusts became shallower, and by then - after the multiple occasions that you’d spent fucking and sucking the life out of one another - you knew well enough that it was a signal he was close. To say nothing of the moans you could tell he was struggling to contain. You weren’t any better yourself, feeling the knot inside you tightening. Both your bodies were aching for a release. 
“Cum for me,” Doyoung exhaled, the drive of his hips fiercer than ever. He was breathless, yet still relentlessly digging you deeper into the mattress without an ounce of mercy.
If nobody heard the two of you going at it all night long, you were sure that there’d be suspicions now that you were going to be walking with a limp.
You cried when you came, “Doyoung!” Your hands scrambled for something to anchor yourself on, anything, the grip of your finger’s moving to claw at his shoulders. Doyoung grimaced and fought a grunt, but it was no secret to you that he was a sucker for a little pain.
Doyoung’s body reacted to yours, releasing into the condom with profanities, followed by the gentle grunt of your name the moment he felt the tightening grip of your walls. You loved when he did that. There was something about Doyoung moaning your name that made you want to finish him all over again, in spite of your sensitivity fresh after orgasming in his hold. If it were possible, you would loop the sound in your brain.
His hips didn’t stop rocking into you even after either of you came, savoring his high until it faded into the post-euphoria of his orgasm. He tossed out the condom, making a mental note to dispose of it properly before he fell asleep, then climbed back in bed with you. “You did well,” he whispered once he joined your side again, embracing you and kissing your skin.
You smiled. “Tired?”
“Honestly? It’s been a long night. I needed this, baby.”
You figured as much. He was fucking you like he worked a nine to five and had a week-load worth of stress to unleash in your pussy. That either meant he was exhausted beyond belief and wanted to sleep, or that there was plenty more where that came from.
“You wanna know what I’ve been thinking?”
Your ears practically perked up. Doyoung’s thoughts were either interesting or dirty - or a deadly combination of both. “What’s on your mind?”
“I wanna cum in you so damn bad.”
You had a feeling that tonight was a “there’s more where that came from” kind of night.
Doyoung finishing inside you was something that both of you fantasized about from time to time, maybe a little more often. There were risks, however you did your best to stay safe - Doyoung got tested immediately after he found out his wife was cheating on him, and you were on birth control. You didn’t know when the last time him and his wife had sex was, but you doubted it was any time after he started fucking you. The condoms were a force of habit.
“You’re clean, right?”
Doyoung nodded in an instant.
“Then, why don’t you?”
“Oh, baby,” he growled. “Trust me, I would right now if this was my house.”
You almost moaned when he did that. You were turned on all over again, but it wasn’t like you had reached the point of being turned off in the first place. Things worked like that with Doyoung.
“Condom, no condom, I don’t care. Just fuck me,” you whined, desperate to feel him between your walls all over again.
Doyoung wore a smug grin, climbing back onto you without having to be told twice. “Told you, I’m gonna fuck you all night long.”
And he did.
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Misconceptions were popular amongst the lives of famous people, and Kim Doyoung was no exception. The public saw only what he was willing to expose - showing off his family and thanking the world for his endless amount of awards. No one would have guessed that a man who seemed to have such a picture-perfect lifestyle would ever be having an affair.
You and Doyoung were a long story. It started after Doyoung realized his wife was cheating on him with a D-list celebrity. By then they already had been arguing here and there, most of it being her fault. He told you that the only reason they hadn’t gone their own separate ways was for the sake of their child.
And then you came along. Unbeknownst to you at the time, Doyoung had always been aware of your attraction towards him. He found it cute but never thought too much of it until you were both casted together in Whisper, and having to work with you on such a sensual movie made tension between you light up in sparks. It wasn’t long before he confronted you, and even less before you got a taste of what people raved about endlessly in articles and on social media. You weren’t the only girl wondering what sex with Doyoung was like, but you were one of the few who would ever actually get to know the experience.
And goddamn, was it a heavenly one.
It really made you think. You’d have to be an absolute idiot to cheat on the fucking Kim Doyoung.
Tonight was the long-awaited movie premiere. Years of filming Whisper made you feel somewhat emotional, maybe because you could relate to your character all too well. The movie was so suspiciously accurate that you caught yourself reflecting and comparing the circumstances. It was a hell of a coincidence, but you knew that there was nothing more to it with the affair occuring only sometime after you’d been casted.
“You look breathtaking in this dress,” Doyoung told you after the red carpet photographs.
“Don’t flatter me,” you murmured, pretending that there weren’t butterflies swarming in your stomach. Your attraction to Doyoung may have grown beyond physical; a little more limitless than you’d like to admit. But that was a story for another day and another time.
Then, he leaned in and whispered, “You gonna let me take it off you tonight?”
You were glad that there was no more press around since you were on the way to the theater. Otherwise people might have caught onto what was a sensual moment for you. You tried your best to feign unbotheredness, but Doyoung left you hot and bothered and you couldn’t hide it.
Your mouth felt dry. “Y-yeah.”
Doyoung was amused. You were easily shy sometimes, yet also no questions asked to his wants. It was always fun seeing the effect he had on you and messing around on purpose just to get a kick out of it.
“I’ll send you a location. Have Mark take you there.”
Mark was your personal Uber - and the only person who knew what was happening between you and Doyoung. Thanks to Doyoung wanting to have car sex one time a year ago and not checking if you were alone, you winded up having to explain your situation to Mark, but he was shockingly understanding. There was no fear or doubt with him and it was a relief.
Doyoung walked off moments later, planting the seed that was growing in your brain. Seeing him dressed up only watered it, you thought he looked just as breathtaking as you were to him. Now you were thinking about getting naked and screwing Doyoung at some random location, and you had no idea how you were going to get through the movie premiere.
The next few hours were probably the longest of your life. They were exciting however, with all the positive reactions and feedback on the movie from your peers. There was dinner and socializing and while you were enjoying yourself tremendously and extremely proud of how the movie turned out, you needed Doyoung on such a greater level that nothing could satiate.
When it was finally time to leave, you hopped in the car and told Mark the location Doyoung had texted you via iMessage. Other than someone who simply worked for you, you also thought of Mark as a good friend. He was closer to your age than he was Doyoung’s, and was always fun to talk to.
“You and Doyoung going at it tonight, huh?”
You laughed. “When don’t we?”
Mark shrugged. It was a good question that he didn’t know the answer to, but he knew that it was none of his business. Unfortunately however, he sucked at minding his own.
“I, have a question…,” he started, sounding hesitant as ever, which only made you curious.
Curiously, you urged him. “Go on.”
“You and Doyoung,” he continued, still reluctant, as if he was taste testing his words before he said them. “Don’t shoot me, but is it just sex? Or have you guys caught feelings?”
Naturally, you opened your mouth to respond, but quickly closed it when you realized that you didn’t have an answer. The simple answer was on the tip of your tongue - Yes. But your relationship with Doyoung was so much more complicated than that, and you hated to think about how he felt towards you. You had been trying to accept that you weren’t supposed to be anything but a pretty plaything for him to run to whenever he was fed up with his wife and needed some relief. Gradually, you were becoming okay with that.
Yet another part of you was hungry for more. That was always how you were. Whenever you got what you wanted, it still wasn’t enough. You were too greedy and insatiable, and desired all the things that were bad for you.
Mark added when he caught onto your silence, “Forget it if I’m being invasive. I just saw you smiling out the window and all bubbly when I mentioned him and I got curious.”
“No, it’s okay,” you replied, although you felt like melting into the leather seat. One way or another, you guessed that you’d have to confront your emotions eventually. “To be honest… I think I do like him. And it’s sick because I don’t want to, I shouldn’t want to, I shouldn’t want him. But here we are, and I don’t think he feels the same.”
“I think he does.”
That made you snort. “You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m deadass,” Mark said without a trace of a smile on his face as you watched him through the rear view mirror. “Do you see the way he looks at you?”
“Like he wants to fuck me? Yeah.”
“Like he wants you,” Mark corrected. “Like you hung up each fuckin’ star in the sky by hand. I can tell you guys don’t just want to fuck each other. You seem to enjoy each other’s company and with all the times I’ve had to witness you two sucking each other’s tongues in the back of this car I’d be damned if there wasn’t something there.”
You sat there in silent shock. When you thought about it, maybe Mark was correct. You fell in love with how gently and lovingly Doyoung treated you even outside of sex, but you never got your hopes up. Maybe it was just him having the decency to treat you well. Maybe it was the bare minimum that you were swooning over.
But Doyoung went above and beyond when it came to you. He cooked for you whenever you stayed over and held you longer than he needed to. He took you places and bought you things you wanted yet never needed. He seemed to always put you first and was honestly the most selfless person that you knew. That was what you loved about him. He always went the extra mile.
Damn it. You really did want Doyoung.
Mark pulled into the driveway some moments later, and you were surprised to see that your destination wasn’t too far from the venue. It was a nice house with a gate that you told him the code to, and you wondered who’s name it was in and why you hadn’t gone here sooner.
“I’m sorry about what you see,” you responded, a little too late, but Mark didn’t seem to mind. It was understood that you needed a moment to reflect.
Mark shrugged without a care in the world. He smiled and said, “It’s alright as long as I get to see you happy. Now go get him.”
You smiled back. Mark’s words always felt like a pat on the back.
When you rang the doorbell, Doyoung opened the door for you, offering you no time before he swooped you inside and pinned you against the door. You squealed, cut off by his lips latching onto your mouth as he kissed you breathless. You were getting deja vu, recalling the last time that this had happened.
“I have a feeling you missed me,” you said once he pulled you away and let you breathe.
Doyoung pecked your lips, smiling softly against them. “Always.”
Your heart fluttered at the feeling. After your talk with Mark you were now hyper aware of all the little things about Doyoung that you loved, and his cute smile was one of them.
In your attempt to distract yourself from your heartbeat you asked, “Where are we?”
“One of my brother’s houses. He’s not here frequently, said I could use it for the night.”
Even as a wealthy celebrity who thrived off of nepotism, you never understood the rich’s obsession with buying house after house just to hardly live in them. But in this moment you were grateful because it meant that you and Doyoung were all alone, and you could be as loud as and do whatever your hearts desired.
“Oh, I see,” you purred, threading your fingers through his hair. “You must want me screaming my lungs off tonight.”
Doyoung nodded his head. “And that’s not all. I went and got tested again. I haven’t slept with her in a while, or anyone else for that matter, but I just felt like it. It came back negative. I’m clean.”
There were a billion thoughts racing in your mind, and then some. You were throbbing at the idea of Doyoung fucking you raw alone, but to have the opportunity being presented to you was something entirely different. You wanted it. Bad.
“Fuck, you really wanna do this?”
“I really wanna fuck you,” Doyoung said. Then something in him seemed to falter. “Actually no. I don’t just wanna fuck you. I wanna make love to you. I don’t care if it sounds corny, you’re my everything, baby, and I wanna show you that I mean it.”
It took a moment for what he was implying to sink in, but when it did, you were ready. “Show me, then,” you stared him dead in the eye. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can, babe,” Doyoung growled, then crashed his lips back against yours. In the same timeframe you were undressing one another as he aided you to a room, unraveling in the midst of heated fervor.
Your dress landed in a heap on the floor, soon followed by your underwear until you were both stripped bare. You felt exposed, but in an exhilarating way. It meant he was free to do whatever he wished to your body.
Doyoung pinned you to the comforter then went for your skin like he always did, as though showering your body in warm kisses was a natural instinct. Something still felt different. He kissed you slower, gradually making progress down from your collarbone to your thighs. Taking his time to peck your weakest spots. He was showing your body - showing you love.
“Fuck, I wanna mark you so bad,” he said randomly, taking you by surprise. Doyoung had never intentionally marked you, the two of you fearing being suspected, or even caught. “We should get away. Go out of town for a while so that I can mark you, until they clear up.”
You giggled and threaded your fingers through his hair. “Now how would we do that in the middle of promotions - press appearances and interviews?”
Doyoung sighed. “Let me dream.”
That made you giggle again, and Doyoung smiled to himself at the sound. He loved everything about you and tonight, he was determined to show you exactly how much.
“Mark me where no one can see, but you. My body’s for your eyes only,” you told him. Your relationship was committed. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had slept with another person and the very moment you started sleeping with him, you had no reason to want to be with anyone else.
“If I start now, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” Doyoung warned.
You shrugged. “Then don’t.”
Tonight seemed to be full of reckless decision-making, and you were tempting him to make another one. It would possibly be the least rash of all the others to come, so when you decided that you didn’t care, he concluded that he didn’t either.
Doyoung’s lips always felt good on your skin, but having him suck and bite on you was incomparable. You felt like a teenager in love for the very first time, infatuated with this newfound feeling and dreading the end. Your breath was hitching as his mouth blemished your stomach, an array of marks forming delicately. Heat suffocated your body as the room seemed to only grow hotter, and you wondered if it was all in your mind or if he felt it too.
You were practically covered head to toe in red blotches when he was finished with you. For a while Doyoung watched your chest rise and fall rapidly with a proud glint in his eye, evidently pleased with his hard work. And nothing felt better than having traces of him all over your body. It felt scandalous, but you liked it.
He rose up to lean in your ear and ask, “I’m gonna eat you out now. Is that okay with you, baby?”
You nodded without wasting a moment of time. It was more than okay if you were being honest, you were needy for him and whatever bit of him you could get.
Doyoung was straight to the action when he positioned himself between your thighs, and the contrast from his previous slow-paced actions gave you whiplash. Your mouth parted open in a moan and you fixed your hands back on his black locks, observing on your back how his tongue moved relentlessly against you.
It was dangerous that he knew your body’s ins and outs. Doyoung had a superpower where he could see right through you. He knew what made you tick. He knew exactly where to touch you and where you were most sensitive. He knew the difference between what felt just good and what left your skin scorching with desire. You suspected that there was a blueprint to your body engraved behind his eyelids. Then again, after two years of this routine - sneaking away to screw one another until your bodies ached and maybe sometimes a little longer - it made sense that he had learned how your body worked.
And god, Doyoung loved how it responded to his touches. Your body always trembled a little, your thighs wavering as you struggled to handle the pleasure. Your breath got shallow and he was a sucker for the little exhales you emit whenever he did as little as touch you. You always reached out for something to clutch with all your might to help support yourself. You were tight as a bitch and there was never a dull moment being inside you. His mouth was watering at the mere thought of going bareback.
You cried as you felt close, “Doyoung, baby, fuck.”
“Let go,” he cooed, then his lips were back on your cunt.
There was no need for you to be told twice. Your grip on his hair tightened as you orgasmed, uncontrollably bucking up and grinding your hips into his mouth. A shriek came from your mouth as you finished, but Doyoung didn’t look like he was done with you just yet.
“One more time,” Doyoung said. He didn’t look willing to be deterred, already set on his mission before the words left his mouth. Still, he added tauntingly, “Unless, you can’t handle it.”
You fired immediately, “N-no, I can take it.”
Your squirming body and fucked out face betrayed your words, as well as the tremble in your voice, but Doyoung grinned condescendingly at how eager you still were to take everything that he was giving you.
“Good girl,” he cooed. Then his mouth was set back on your cunt.
Although the first one worked like a charm, Doyoung had a new tactic this round - fingering you. His ring and middle fingers prodded you, toying with your clit until he was satisfied with your whimpers and stuck them in. All at once his mouth was sucking on you, his nose nudging your clit and it had you soaring through cloud nine. There was something about the way Doyoung made you feel that was incomparable to any other emotion ever evoked within you.
You were still sensitive from your last orgasm, so every move Doyoung made had you at least twice as blissed out. You couldn’t help but emit a cry of his name at even the slightest of contact, quickly becoming overwhelmed by pleasure. To make matters worse (better), Doyoung was like a storm and refused to let up. There was no other option than for you to take everything he was offering to the best of your ability, to prove that you could handle him just as much as you claimed. You weren’t one to tap out too easily.
The pressure was too much. Quicker than before, you were yet again close to imploding. His quite literally handy work was enough to shove you over the edge, and you barely had the chance to warn him before you were thrown over it.
“I’m…” was all you could say before you were screaming, body convulsing as your orgasm fell upon you once more. It was the second time tonight, but deep inside you knew that it was still far from the last.
Doyoung finally showed you mercy and pulled away this time around, lips all wet by the time that he was finished. There was nothing that you could say that would convey how you felt. You could only lie there in silence with your chest heaving at rapid speed as you tried to endure your daze.
“Think you can still handle it?” He asked with a smile.
You were offended that he doubted you. “Try me.”
He didn’t wait around. Doyoung was lining himself up at your slit in mere seconds and the feeling of his tip brushing against it was making you drastically impatient. Moments like this made days without fucking him feel like weeks.
Finally he pushed into you, at a pace so slow it was almost agonizing. Doyoung leant his head back with a moan at that very moment, adjusting to the feeling of your bare walls. You felt tighter, wetter and warmer, and he already felt as if he could bust. Especially when you instantly clenched upon his entrance. One round definitely wasn’t going to be enough.
“S-shit,” you moaned, a clear waver in your voice. There was nothing else that you needed to say - your body definitely gave away how pleased you were to feel him. Your head lolled back against the pillow and you sighed in satisfaction.
As his hips rocked back and forth, the thoughts inside Doyoung’s brains only developed more and more, all of them centered around you. For one, he thought that there wasn’t a single word that could describe how beautiful you looked underneath him. Moonlight snook past the curtains and glimmered on your exposed skin, highlighting your breast and face. The fucked out expression you wore on your face only expanded his urge to keep you up all night, rocking into you slowly and steadily to savor the moment. The marks he left on you also bathed in the moonlight. That was all it took for Doyoung to lose his mind.
Second of all, Doyoung couldn’t fathom why he waited so long to fuck you raw. Sex with you would always be amazing regardless of what either of you chose to do, but he knew it’d be a lie to say that he didn’t prefer it this way. From the looks of it, you felt the exact same.
Doyoung swooped you into a sudden kiss, effectively cutting off your moans. You instead whimpered into his mouth with pleasant surprise, kissing him back with the same passion. When he was satisfied he pulled back and murmured, “You’re so beautiful, baby.”
His praise was your poison. You were addicted to him, intoxicated by him, and even if it was wrong you wouldn’t have it any other way. All your worries vanished when you had Doyoung by your side. When he touched you, you couldn’t even think of anyone - or anything - else besides him. You were all about him, and there wasn’t a single other person that could make you feel the way that he did. There wasn’t anyone who could please or satisfy you just like Doyoung.
You liked that Doyoung didn’t throw words around either. When he called you beautiful, he showed you that he meant it. His fingers and lips scattered around your body, hands grabbing your breast as his mouth sucked more marks into any available space. He meant it when he said that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop. To him, there was no such thing as enough.
That’s when you realized you and Doyoung may have mirrored one another. Too much greed in your hearts to ever be satiated, and perhaps that’s why you were a perfect match. You could attempt to drain one another completely, milk each other dry, and still never exhaust.
“You’re mine,” Doyoung whispered between pecks. “Tell me you’re mine.”
You stammered, “I’m yours.”
Doyoung moved his hand to your clit, fingers rubbing to their content. “Again.”
“I’m… I’m yours! I’m all yours, Doyoung,” you cried. You had meant it. Your body longed for him. After two entire years of this, you felt like your body belonged to him.
Satisfied, Doyoung kept up his actions. You were clueless as to how loud either of you were being in that moment. The bed creaked some and there was a loud smack whenever his hips slammed into yours, but you were only focused on Doyoung. Beads of sweat collected on his skin yet there wasn’t a hint of exhaustion on his face; only pleasure. His bare, sweaty chest glistened in the moonlight, and you desperately wanted to mark him back. Just like he’d done you.
It was too bad that he had someone to come back to. He may not have had sex with his wife, but there were other instances where she was bound to see his body and it was too risky. The only reason either of you cared was not because he was afraid of her finding out that he was cheating back, but because there was a chance that she’d put the pieces together. All it took was a name and you would be in hot water.
That thought made something in you sullen, and you had to dispose of the feeling quickly.
“You’re mine, too,” you said. “Right?”
Doyoung reached for your hand and slipped his fingers between yours. “I’m all yours, I promise. You’re my one and only.”
That was enough to placate you. Doyoung belonged to you and you belonged to him, you didn’t care what the documents said. He was all yours.
Now you were approaching your climax, and by the death grip Doyoung was currently holding on your hips you could tell that you weren’t alone. His moans were getting louder and it wouldn’t be long before he was ready to bust.
“Breed me, Doyoung, please,” you begged. You had reached a point of desperacy, rolling your hips into his to match his thrusts as you chased your orgasm. “Breed me, breed me, breed me.”
“Fuck,” Doyoung groaned. You were driving him crazy. It meant everything to know that you wanted this just as badly as he did. “I’m gonna give it all to you, babe.”
Your vision clouded with nothing but white when you reached your climax, squeezing Doyoung’s hand for leverage. As your limbs shook, your mouth gaped in moans but your cunt tightened around Doyoung. That was the last straw for him, the last push he needed. His moans resounded throughout the room as his warm cum coated your walls, filling you to your brim. He came a lot, but you weren’t complaining. The feeling of his seed inside you was ever so quickly becoming one of your favorites.
When he pulled out, Doyoung proudly watched how his cum trickled from you. He wanted to do it over and over again. The clock on the nightstand read two A.M., and that’s when he knew that this night was going to last until the morning.
“Wanted this ever since I first saw you with Daphne. You’re so good with her,” Doyoung said, and you vaguely recalled the time he was talking about. He was trying to keep her entertained and you happened to be fairly good with children. “Knew I had to put a baby in you. I’m gonna breed you for real one day. I promise.”
“Doyoung,” you whined.
He didn’t stop. “You want that, yeah? You want me to fuck you full of my cum?”
“Please,” you begged. “Don’t stop.”
He grinned. There was no plan of stopping.
By the time Doyoung did finally stop, it was early in the morning and the sun was beginning to peak from the horizon. You giggled when he finally tapped out and fell beside you, and grabbed his face to kiss him on his lips.
Doyoung smiled. “I love you.”
You froze for a moment. “You mean that?”
“From the bottom of my heart,” he said, then added, “It’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure shit out. All that matters is I got you and you got me, and I won’t let anything come between us.”
It felt like there was a wait lifted from your shoulders. You weren’t free to love him whenever or wherever, but you were free to love him however much you wanted. That made it feel okay.
You pecked his lips again. “I love you, too. I’ll wait for us.”
Doyoung held you in his arms. He could only say that you were like a daydream to him, everything he could have ever wanted wrapped into one. There wasn’t one damn thing about you that he didn’t adore. You made his heart sing and dance, and he hoped his body said everything that words could not. There was no way he could explain what he felt about you.
You and Doyoung’s love was straight out of a movie. And this was only the beginning to your chase for a happily ever after.
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matryosika · 6 months
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NCT127 + NCT DREAM: When they first slide it in
Members included in order — Jaehyun, Mark, Haechan, Johnny, Jeno and Jaemin. Genre — Smut headcanons (18+) Wordcount — 1,100 words Includes — Fem!Reader, suggestive content. Mentions of penetrative vaginal sex, use of petnames, dirty talk. Author's note — First NCT post! This was completely inspired by Juno's (@hyunsvngs) post on OT8 (skz) and the faces they would make when sliding it in. It's such a good read and if you missed it, pretty please go check it out! Wanted to do my own version with some NCT members, so here it is. This is mostly to try and fight back my writer's block, but I hope you all like it.
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Jaehyun: 
Eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted, definitely. 
He is the type to let out quiet but deep sighs, and keeps his gaze fixed on where your bodies connect —when he first slides his dick inside of you, he needs to watch. He loves to see how your pussy swallows him full, loves to see it disappearing inside of you. If he is fucking you in missionary, his head would fall down to enjoy the show. But, as soon as he bottoms out, he is quick to lift his eyes up to see you. He needs to see your facial expressions, to hear those gasps and whines you let out whenever he hits the deepest spot between your walls. 
Big fan of kissing your jaw and neck while he waits for you to adjust to his size, all whilst emitting quiet but deep groans. I honestly sense he is the type to ask you a question or two before moving inside of you, like a sweet “are you okay?” or “are you ready?”. But like in a whisper, barely even letting the words out. When you just nod, he hums, looking for your approval. “Mhm? Can I fuck you now baby?” 
Mark: 
It really depends on his mood. 
If he’s acting all dom, like he is in control, he would try to act in control of himself as well —eyes close shut, and teeth digging on his lower lip. He is also definitely the type to whisper a long “fuck” as he bottoms out for the first time that night. But when Mark is too needy, and desperate, and he doesn’t really care about holding himself back, that’s when you see his true expressions when he first slides his dick inside you: hazy, lost gaze. I should add that he is also most likely to go a bit crossed-eye/blank eyes right before closing them slowly, immersing himself in the feeling. I can actually hear him saying “shit, just like that baby,” as your walls squeeze him just right. He would try really hard to make eye contact with you, but can you even blame him for not being able to? I just know his dick is always too sensitive, and it takes all effort within him not to come right then and there after first sliding himself inside you.  
Haechan:
Oh he really fucking tries to hold himself back. Much more than he would like to. 
Haechan tries to appear all collected, but he can feel his heart beating on his throat and his cock twitching when the tip is barely even in. He is the type to slowly close his eyes, almost at the same time he slides his dick right in; also lets out a deep sigh along with all of it. He would pretend he is unaffected by how warm and slippery you are, but his hands would betray him shamelessly  —if he is holding you by your hips, he would grip them almost painfully; if he is holding your hands, he would squeeze them too harshly. I also feel like Haechan is the type to curse under his breath or whisper things to himself when he first feels your walls clenching tightly around him. A “so fucking tight” might escape his lips, or an almost whiny “oh God”.
Johnny: 
He talks you through it.
It’s not necessarily because I see Johnny mostly as a dominant, but I feel like he loves to take the lead in situations like this. He is the type to make sure you’re really comfortable, that he feels just right inside you. All of his psyche is focused entirely on you, so it’s no surprise that he can control all of his facial expressions and body language to admire and take care of yours. And because he is so in control of himself, I can’t really picture any instinctive or involuntary gestures from him. Nothing but one: a fucking deep, almost predatory gaze. His eyes never leave yours.
If, by any means he cracks, I can picture him as one to slightly part his lips and let out a quick gasp. 
If he sees you crying, or whining, his eyebrows would go from a straight line to a subtle furrow and he would want to know how you’re feeling, “too much?”, “slower?”, “talk to me, pretty”.  I can also almost see his jaw getting tense when he bottoms out, feeling how your walls are squeezing his dick ridiculously aggressively, “want me to stretch you out for me?”, “You’re still so tight, baby. Weren’t my fingers enough?”
Jeno:
One word: veins.
I can honestly picture Jeno’s facial expressions in such a very specific way. He is definitely the type to let out a somewhat twisted smile when he feels how tight you are for the first time that night, the veins on his neck and forehead/temple becoming too prominent as he tries to regain the control your body has taken away from him.
Cheeks and nose flushed, and a really piercing gaze that makes you feel so small —whether you’re on top or underneath him. Jeno would be damned if he loses eye contact with you, he is the type to fix his gaze on yours as he slowly bottoms out inside of you. Also asks you questions to make you realize how cock-drunk you’ve become, despite him being barely in: “did you miss it, baby?”, or “how badly you want me?”. He doesn’t expect any kind of answer from you whatsoever, but he still scoffs under his breath when he sees how fucked out you’re by so little. 
Jaemin:
Eyebrows so furrowed, eyes closed shut and lower lip caught between his teeth.
Jaemin definitely lets out a deep groan, or even a desperate whine, followed by a sweet “oh baby”. He slides his dick in and bottoms out painfully slow —to tease you and himself, of course. Like Jaehyun, only when he bottoms out does he open his eyes to see your face in pure bliss; he might even offer you a complicated, small smile at the sight of pain imprinted on your face. He takes his time prior to fucking you, and he just enjoys the feeling of your cunt cockwarming him. If your eyes start to tear up because of the big stretch his dick is providing you, I can definitely see him as the type to wipe your tears one by one while he gives you words of affirmation. Also feel like he is one to give you instructions on your position to feel his cock better. “There, baby. You’ve taken me before, open up your legs for me more, yeah?”
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nctsworld · 7 months
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✩‌ mark x reader | pro baseball player!mark | fluff | smut | 8.4k
SUMMARY | your world is shaken up (literally) when you meet the handsome man guilty of the accidental baseball smack to your head. after a comforting meet-cute and realization that he’s the city’s ace pitcher, you two go on a date. and by the end of the night, mark thinks he’s falling for you faster than any pitch he’s thrown before.
WARNINGS | sexual content (near the end), arm riding (iykyk), breast/nipple play, oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, piv sex, some drinking // this is 80% fluff-20% smut (with lots of corny writing); there's actually not too much baseball mentioned, but i did a little research on it; however, inaccuracies may be inevitable!
RATING | mature
AUTHOR'S NOTE | i am sorry this is so late </3 i hope y'all enjoy! please also check out (and maybe send in some prompts to) @nctpromptmeme!
TAGLIST | @curieouscapt @dearlyminhyung @infnteen
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Under the warm, summer sun, you beam as you walk towards your close friend, Chenle, and his dog, Daegal.
Shining back, he nods in hello to you with sunglasses pressed against his face. The teacup Bichon by his side wags its tail and pants happily at the sight of you, but is easily distracted the next second due to the park’s stimulating surroundings.
Dogs running amok, families having picnics, kids chasing each other in circles, friends playing baseball—
Specifically, a group of absolutely stunning men playing, as if a model catalogue exploded onto the field across from you.
But one in particular catches your eye.
Kind eyes shine behind wire-framed glasses, paired with a wide smile. His soft hair bounces with his light jog across the area.  
In his fitted white tee, he ends up in one spot and continuously throws the ball into his mitt. The game seems to be on hold as he speaks to a teammate. Absentmindedly, he rolls his arm sleeves up, revealing lean, yet defined muscles.
You silently gasp, struck by the beautiful sight, then gulp at the flexing of his biceps when he continues tossing the ball. His teammate must’ve told him a joke since the attractive figure throws his head back in joy.
And this is the exact moment you go into cardiac arrest because his laugh is the last straw of what you can handle from this man.  
Suddenly, the sound of your name shakes you out of your daze and reminds you to breathe.
“Okay, which one of these guys is the one who made you do a full stop in the middle of the grass?” Chenle asks, coming up beside you.
Daegal welcomes you with loving rubs against your leg. You squat to pet her, but your eyes are still honed in on the handsome stranger. The teams seems to be switching now when someone hands the bespectacled man a bat.
Your friend tracks your line of sight and nods, impressed. “Okay, he’s cute. Your distractedness will be excused this time.”
Scoffing, you shove his leg lightly and he giggles in return. After a few more moments of gawking, Chenle wonders, “Why do I feel like I’ve seen him somewhere?”
Standing up, you reply, “Probably comes here often with his friends when you walk Daegal?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I feel like I know him from somewhere else...”
Deciding you should probably drag your attention away and not be a blatant creep, you begin to walk away backwards, heading towards the ice cream cart before the line-up becomes as long as the field.
“Want your usual?”
“Yes, please!”
However, Chenle’s brightness fades instantly, jaw falling and eyes widening. You’re about to turn around to see what caused his change of expression when you hear a piercing—
“WATCH OUT!”
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With a throbbing in your head, you wake up, squinting at the blinding rays. Coming into view, the cute guy from before replaces the sun’s spot, staring down at you with concern written all over his face.
“Oh, my God,” he pants. His hands shake in front of him. “I am so, so, so, so sorry.”
You roll your eyes a bit, trying to center your vision. Groaning, you ask, “What happened?”
“I, uh...” The individual’s mouth, slightly open with gritted teeth, pulls to one side as he runs a hand through his hair, “may have batted the ball and it coincidentally went straight for your head.”
Carefully, he helps lift your upper body off the ground. He asks if you’re okay, and you nod. But a grimace comes after, causing the stranger’s frown to deepen.
“Maybe we should get you to the hospital. You might have a concussion.”
All of a sudden, he inches closer and gingerly runs his thumb over the source of the throbbing. It’s likely all in your mind, but you swear the pain lessens from his touch. You tilt your head further, angling into his palm and embracing the comforting gesture.
“I’ll obviously cover all the bills—”
You cut him off with a slow lift of your hand. “No. I’m okay, I’m okay.”
You know you’ll definitely be more than okay if you can steal some more time with his magical touch.
Continuing, you say, “And that’s too much. If anything, you can buy some ice cream for me and my friend.”
Glancing around for Chenle, you find him, crouching like the stranger, but a few feet away. With a raised corner of his mouth, you deduce he’s deliberately giving space for you to interact with Mr. Handsome Baseball Hitter.
Said handsome baseball hitter chuckles. Hearing it tugs at your chest, even harder now that you can experience it up close.
“I’ll buy you a thousand ice creams to make it up to you.” He retreats his hand and you don't hold back pouting from the fleeting contact you already miss. “But seriously, if there’s any long-term side effects, please reach out to me and I’ll pay for any expenses that come your way.”
“How would I know how to reach out to you?”
He rambles the following matter-of-factly, “Well, you can find my manager’s information online, there’s the team’s Twitter account”—he looks up cutely in thought—“and I guess I’ve been kinda active on Instagram—”
You tilt your head in confusion. What is this guy going on about?
“Okay,” you interrupt, “but who are you?”
His face flips through a few emotions in the span of seconds, but they’re unreadable. Finally landing on a grin, he says, “I think what’s more important is: do you know who you are?”
“Yeah, I’m—” And you properly introduce yourself.
“Good,” he says, “so we’re not dealing with amnesia.”
Your cheeks rise at his humour. Saying your name warmly, he adds, “Nice to meet you, I’m Mark.”
He lends out a hand for you to shake and you do so. With help from his knees, he rises upward, aiding you to stand on your feet in the process.
“Mark,” you repeat his name aloud, locking eyes with him, “the baseball batter with the strength of a thousand suns.”
At the odd line, you catch yourself, thinking how the injury must’ve loosened your filter. He laughs at the lengthy label. “You should see me pitch.”
You shake your head. “Nu-uh, nope,” you playfully say. “I’m going to be safe and stay far, far away from that sexy arm.”
Both you and Mark’s eyebrows rise at the remark.
Yep, definitely a loose filter. Maybe you really do have a concussion.
While Mark breaks out into a pleased smile, you snap your eyes shut, wanting to run away. Or disappear, if at all possible. “Strong, strong. I meant strong...”
Avoiding eye contact, you hurry and make way to a now standing Chenle. Trying to leave the embarrassment behind, you grumble, “Chenle, let’s get going.”
Your friend smirks and whispers by your side, “You sure you don’t want to dig your grave even further?” You attempt to elbow him, but he’s too quick and avoids it.
“It was nice meeting you, Mark,” you call out over your shoulder as you walk away. “Thanks for looking out for... my head?”
Cringe falls over, making you pick up your pace. Time to officially stop talking.
Chenle turns away, his body shaking as he releases a snicker into his fist.
“Again, I’m really, really sorry!” Mark apologizes in a shout. You can hear the sincerity in his voice, and also recognize his voice as the one who warned you to watch out before the incident occurred. “If you need to find me, I’ll be here over the next couple of weekends!”
When you’re far away enough from the scene of the crime, you smack Chenle in the arm. In response, Daegal chirps a bark at you. “You just had to watch me make a complete fool out of myself back there.”
He lovingly places an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into him. “I mean, Daegal’s great and all, but if anyone has any entertainment value out of the three of us here, it’s going to be you.”
You groan at his harsh, yet true, words.
“Your head good though?”
You note how the throbbing is barely there anymore. Touching the spot, you wince. At most, there’s likely just a bruise. “Yeah, it’s good.”
In a hopeful tone, Chenle sing-songs, “Think you wanna come to the park again with me next weekend?”
Reflecting on what Mark said, you ponder if he really meant it about coming to find him if anything was wrong. Even though everything would likely be fine, you’d love to see him again. 
But how could you face him after the disaster of your mouth running free? You shake your head in defeat.
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On Monday night, the next evening, your phone goes off right as you enter your apartment building. You drag your phone out, eyebrows furrowing at the notification that Chenle’s calling you. When was the last time he’s called you?
Actually, you’re fairly sure he’s never called you. Ever. You pick it up without hesitation. 
“Hey, everything okay?”
“Find a TV playing the baseball game,” Chenle pants. “Right now.”
Out of all the things he could call you for, this is what he’s asking you to do? He’s not even into baseball; basketball is the sport he adores to death. “What?”
“Do it,” he orders. “Now!”
“Okay, okay.”
Thankful you haven’t gone up to your apartment yet, you stride over to the little in-house gym in your building near the front entrance. You haven’t used it much since you moved in, but you recall that the TVs usually play either sports or news.
And you remember right, except at the moment, the baseball game is the only event plastered on the screens. Most people in the room are fixated on the game while they’re doing their set or on their respective cardio machine.
“Okay...” you trail in uncertainty. A pitcher from your city’s team throws the ball and the batter misses. The camera cuts to the batter from the opposing team, shaking his head in disappointment. “Why must I need to watch the baseball game so ba—”
The camera’s now on Mark’s face.
The same Mark from the neighbourhood park yesterday, sans the glasses, and in proper baseball gear.
He’s on live, national television, playing baseball in front of the crowd of tens of thousands of people.  
From a side angle, all eyes are on him as he tips his cap forward. His eyes mold into slits of concentration, his sharp jaw tightening after a lick of his lips. Sure, he’s different from yesterday’s care-free self, but you’d be lying if you said this serious side of him didn’t turn you on either.
Again, the camera cuts away, to the wide shot from behind him. Besides his great body (especially his gorgeous backside in those snug pants), you revel in the back of his white and dark green trimmed jersey, indicating his last name and his assigned number: Lee. 02.
He winds up for the pitch, raising his leg, and the ball is gone within a blink of an eye, landing directly into the catcher’s glove. The number 98 comes up near a rectangle on-screen, signifying the speed of his throw.
Mark wasn’t lying about his skills; he’s the pitcher with the strength of a thousand suns.
All the screens are filled with Player #02’s glimmer of a smirk, before he quickly stashes it away behind his cap. The camera lingers on him while the commentators in the background talk.
“A great put-out pitch for Lee,” one says. “His fastballs this season have been absolutely remarkable. Another great one from him.”
Cameras switch to another shot of Mark catching the ball, resetting once more for the next batter.
Another commentator supplements, “Aside from the slight hiccup earlier this season, he’s definitely on-track in making his mark on his debut in the league. A rookie ace indeed. It’s no wonder they’ve been calling him ‘The Tiger!’”
Understanding dawns upon you as to why he stated how easy it would be to contact him (and to be able to pay for any potential hospital bills). The city’s new star pitcher—how could you not know him?
“I knew he looked familiar!” Chenle pipes up from the other end, just as Mark’s nice figure takes up the screen once more. Awe and shock consume your voice, and you’re unable to create a coherent reply.
But you don’t need to, not when you have Chenle to talk your ear off about the game, but mostly Mark, for the rest of the night.
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The week passes by, with you casually going through Mark’s Instagram (which, as he mentioned, he only occasionally posts on) and watching a few more of Mark’s games with Chenle in tow. 
You fawn together over his plays (and his ass) and, despite not knowing much about the game, he must be having a great week from the commentators’ constant praises and the team’s overall wins.
Once Sunday finally arrives though, a wave of nervous anticipation rolls over you.
Because for you, it’s game time.
Sure, you may not have initially wanted to, but now that you know who Mark is, what is there to lose if you step up to the plate and see him again?
The scene of the park is quite similar to last week’s, except for the large presence of people staring at the men, many you recognize from the city’s team from all the games you’ve watched this week, playing baseball on the field. You wonder if you were too caught up with Mark last week because you didn’t notice how everyone else was this enraptured too.
As you stroll closer to the grassy area with Chenle and Daegal hovering behind, the players coincidentally take a breather. Some parents quickly take advantage of the break to bring their children up to receive autographs.
This is perfect timing for you too.
However, you stop in place, debating if this was a good idea to return. You’re surely going to make a fool out of yourself again (this time with no injury to blame) and Chenle, despite his promise of not interfering, will totally budge in and—
And it’s too late to backpedal, because Mark, although distracted by the little cluster of people surrounding him, lifts his head momentarily and his gaze lands directly on you.
Air seizes in your lungs when he flashes you a grin that could compete with the sun. He gives a small nod and wave. Like a star struck fangirl, you glance around to ensure he’s not gifting that nod and wave to anyone else. 
But no, you’re not mistaken—his eyes are only on you.
Saying his thanks to his assumed fans, he jogs his way over to you, attired today in a fitted grey-mixed tee, ripped denim jeans, and thicker framed glasses compared to last time.
“Hey,” Mark says, still grinning beautifully. “How’s your head feeling?”
His smile is incredibly infectious. It’s a challenge not to do the same when you’re in the presence of this man. “Better. Had some bruising, but it’s all gone now.”
He nods in response, mumbling a “Good, good” under his breath. With his face turned away, he swipes some hair behind his ear and seems to be preparing himself to say something. But, you will yourself to address the elephant in the room first.
“So, why didn’t you tell me that you were in the major leagues?”
At the unexpected question, Mark darts his head up and draws it back in surprise, his lips pouting adorably. Your heart bursts.
Contrasting his cuteness, you notice the hint of stubble around his mouth. First the pout, now this. You’re captivated by it more than you should be.
He chuckles and lifts a shoulder. “Well, you didn’t ask.”
“I did,” you laugh. “I asked who you were!”
After looking up in thought for a moment, he concedes. “Okay, maybe you did.”
You two laugh in unison, and even when the moment is over, both of you stare into each other's eyes. Time’s filled with comfortable silence and equally comfortable smiles. 
Mark breaks the silence, asking, “Are you still wanting to stay safe and far away from my sexy arm?”
“Oh, my God...” you groan, hating to hear the same words that left your mouth from last week.
“No,” he says through another burst of laughter, “it’s a genuine question.”
“I meant to say strong!” you argue petulantly. “I was just a little out of it from the hit, no thanks to you.”
“I know, I know,” he giggles. “I’m genuinely wondering though, cause...” Mark pauses and begins to fidget, this time rubbing the nape of his neck. 
You tilt your head, intrigued. “Cause what?”
“Cause, I was, uh, wondering,” he says, eyes averting yours. “Since I owe you for your head injury—”
“You don’t owe me anything—”
“And I know it’s a long shot cause you’re absolutely gorgeous and you’re probably taken—”
This time, you draw your head back in surprise over the compliment and the grand assumption that you’re off the market. 
“—but did you wanna go out with me sometime?” His hand moves through his hair before he shyly looks at you again. “Maybe?”
Before you can even process what's happening you hear a "Yes!" behind you, causing you to jolt upright. “Yes, she will absolutely go on a date with you!”
“Chenle!” you gasp, appalled but not surprised, in the direction of your close friend as he nears your side. You face Mark again and gesture in the direction of the incoming intruder. “Don’t mind him.”
As per his charming self, your friend holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Chenle. Your newest number one fan. Great plays this week, by the way.”
“Mark.” He takes the hand to shake, giving him a small smile. “And thanks.”
Mark’s eyes wander down and notices the dog wagging its tail excitedly. His face lights up. “Aw, who’s this cute little guy?”
“Daegal,” Chenle answers. “She’s my little handful, besides this one.” he says, jerking his head in your direction. Mark's too focused on Daegal to see you slapping her owner in the arm. 
Squatting down, he pets the lively dog. You follow suit and crouch down too, watching Daegal gift Mark tons of licks and enthusiastically rubs herself against his hands and arms. She’s never this delighted with strangers usually. 
“What do you think, Daegal?” Mark asks, holding eye contact with her as if she could reply, then he glances over at you. “Do you think your friend should go out with me?”
Immediately, she barks happily, causing all three of you to laugh. 
“Good girl,” Chenle whispers from above.
Although you pucker your lips playfully at Daegal’s betrayal, you reach out to pet her fondly along with Mark. 
“But how will you guarantee my safety from your strong arm?” Your stare lingers on them. Not that he has to know, but you had to make a conscious effort to not say sexy once more.
“I promise I won’t be tossing any more of my balls in your direction,” Mark casually says.
After a pause, your eyebrows raise and his eyes widen.
“Wait, I mean—shit...” he hisses, closing his eyes and shaking his head. Your lips twitch, suppressing a laugh and finding him adorable.
“I know what you mean,” you quickly say, relieving him of his embarrassment.
He shyly glances up at you and you share a comforting look. Suddenly, someone from the field hollers his name. With a small frown, he begins to walk in reverse away from you.
“I probably should get back, but now that you know how to get in touch, message me on Instagram and we can figure out a time that works for our date?”
“Yes, definitely!”
Incredulously, you look up at Chenle for answering on your behalf.
“For sure, Mark,” you say. “Have a great game.” With the way he plays, you know he will.
Chenle and you wave your good-byes to him and watch him retreat to his friends.
“You do know that I'm the one he asked out, right?” you ask as the three of you begin to walk towards to the park's popular ice cream cart, except you're more vigilant this time.
Your friend grabs out cash, ready to pay for your order. Or at least you hope so, for all the trouble he caused.
“Yes, and that's why I will live vicariously through you!”
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After messaging him over the last week (with Chenle hovering over your shoulder and backseat driving many of the messages), Thursday really couldn't come fast enough for your date with Mark.
As you step out of your apartment complex, your jaw drops and an impressed smile fills your face.
In a green bomber, black tee, and skinny jeans, Mark coolly pulls up on a red Ducati motorbike. You recall seeing a post or two on his Instagram with it, but it takes you by surprise to see it in-person.
He takes off his helmet and runs fingers through his hair, attempting to ruffle out the messiness. You're a little envious of how good he looks, even with messy hair.
Your date takes in your outfit—an off-the-shoulder floral dress that teeters the lines of being cute and sexy simultaneously—and beams.
“Wow,” he says, mouth agape. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” you say, then make an over-the-top attempt to check him out. “You don't look so bad yourself.”
After a moment of shared smiles, he tilts his head towards his mode of transportation. “Hope this isn't too daunting.”
You shake your head. “Not at all.”
As Mark helps you with your helmet, now that you're up-close, you notice he's clean-shaven, unlike the other times you've seen him, and you presume he opted for contacts for tonight.
You also can't help but relish in the proximity of his hands near your face, flashing previously to the first time you met only a couple of weeks ago.
Once he's done, you ready yourself for the ride by wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, holding onto him snugly.
He twists around with his visor open.
“Ready?”
You respond with a squeeze around his waist and a nod, so he closes his visor and you're off through the nightscape of the city.
Everything passes by in a blur, but when there are the occasional moments when he slows down or stops at the red lights, you drink in how beautiful your city is.
On the other hand, you're dying to know what Mark planned for tonight. He gave you a vague idea—dinner, a small post-dinner activity (no balls involved, Mark promised), and dessert—but that's all.
In a nicer part of the city, he stops and parks in front of a bumbling Italian restaurant.
Once inside, Mark gives his name to the greeter, stating how he has a reservation, and a sweet host immediately leads you to your table. As you walk through the restaurant, you admire its warm atmosphere with dim lights and candles spread everywhere, along with the many other couples eating their dinner.
The host stops in front of a secluded semi-circular plush booth. You shimmy in, and Mark follows. Both of you sit comfortably close near the middle of the booth.
Despite how much you have been talking through DMs over the last week, as first dates often go, conversation is awkward at first.
However, as dinner progresses and the extravagant wine (Mark insisted, “Only the best for my date, please.”) makes its way through your systems, it gets easier.
You learn more about his family, his team, and his love for reading. For him, he learns about your friends, your job vs. dreams constant conflict, and your love for music.
The easiness also goes beyond words. Underneath the table, your legs brush up against one another's. You throw your head back in laughter, and you bravely touch his forearm in response. Mark even leans in close to your body, sometimes the edge of your shoulders gently pressing into the other.
By the end of dinner, being the gentleman he is, Mark doesn't even let you glance at the check and pays it all without hesitation. Then, you're outside and on his motorbike again, off to the mysterious post-dinner activity.
When he reaches a particular end of town where there isn't much around except one place, you have an inkling where you're about to go.
Once you're there and parked, your hunch is answered correctly, but you realize something.
“Isn't the aquarium closed at this hour?”
He shrugs nonchalantly and begins to usher you forward with a hand lingering at your lower back. Whispering into your ear, he says, “I may have booked it privately for tonight.”
As you walk through, Mark and you stick to each other's side, shoulder to shoulder, and switch between revealing more about yourselves while reading and conversing about the informational signs on the aquatic creatures.
Both of you stop in front of the main showcase of the aquarium: the large tank that houses two beluga whales.
Mark leans in a bit closer to the tank, catches sight of one of them in a corner, and points it out to you. As he straightens, you feel the back of your hand brush up against his.
“You’re quite the romantic,” you state while glancing at the tank, almost as low as a whisper. Even with nobody around, there's something so serene about the aquarium that makes you want to be respectfully quiet. "Does everyone get this first-date, first-class experience from you?”
“Only the girls who get hit on the head by me,” he teases in a whisper, making you softly chuckle.
After a moment passes as you watch the tank, hoping and waiting for the beluga whales to move to where you're standing, Mark asks, “Would it be surprising to say I don’t go on dates as often as you think?”
Your eyes dart toward him, but you quickly keep your gaze fixated back on the tank. You nod. “A little.”
He hums, followed by a lengthy sigh. You can sense a shift in him. You hear how it's laced with sadness, maybe even a little regret.
“I’ve been working so hard to get to this point and of course being drafted’s been so worth it, but it also meant that I had to sacrifice some things along the way. But now that I’m finally here”—you feel his gaze now directed on you—“I definitely can rearrange my time for other things.”
Your breathing slows as you turn to face him.
Courageously, Mark intertwines his hand with yours and his free one raises, caressing the bare skin of your upper arm. The contact makes you gasp and hold your breath.
He drags himself forward, as do you, and his hand is about to cup your face...
Until the two belugas are now your front-row audience, glancing at you as if they were smiling.
You both chuckle softly and give them a wave, not wanting to lose this rare chance of seeing them this close.
And although the special moment has passed, you two finish off the marine life tour with your hand in his.
Once outside, Mark leads you somewhere nearby. After about ten minutes of walking, you're standing on a large cliff with a scenic view of the city. You've never seen the city from this height before, and all its twinkling lights and the starry sky beckon you.
An ice cream truck is also coincidentally there, and you assume Mark booked it for your date tonight.
You two grab your waffle cone orders and sit down on a wooden bench that overlooks the view.
“So,” you say, licking the cone on its side to avoid the ice cream from dripping down your hand, “does this go towards the debt of you hitting my head?”
“Of course,” he nods with his signature smile, doing the same as you and trying to avoid his sweet treat from melting. “It'll be one ice cream out of the many future thousands.”
The implication that there’ll be more than just this date hangs in the night air, almost as if it's a promise, and you really hope it'll be true.
At the very least, it feels true as you peer over your city, leaning your head onto Mark's shoulder while he casually drapes an arm around you.
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Getting off the motorcycle, Mark walks you to the front door of your place and you don't even think twice about asking if he wants to come in. He says yes a little too enthusiastically, making you giggle, but it confirms that neither of you want the night to come to an end just yet.
Mark hangs his jacket as you grab beers from the fridge. Both of you make talk for some time on your couch, but the energy in the room is buzzing, especially since the almost-kiss.
The second you gravitate towards Mark, he rushes to wrap an arm around your waist and his free hand cups your face, dragging you in for the first kiss that's been itching to happen.
His lips are dangerously soft, addictive really. You swear he tastes like cherry (could be from the food earlier or maybe a lip balm flavour, you wonder).
It's a slow, yet deep, start. In the beginning, the kissing is with intent, wanting to know what each other tastes like. Naturally, the curiosity evolves into exploration, with Mark cautiously dipping his tongue into your mouth. You react with zeal, swiping your tongue against his and even experiment sucking on it. He shudders at the sensation.
Mark holds you close throughout, but your bodies move into a new position, letting you sink comfortably into your couch beneath him.
Here, passion rises. He grips your waist, whilst his body presses into yours, and he begins to trail down your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Although it's already off your shoulders, he drags a sleeve of your dress further down, hungry to kiss as much of your bare skin as he possibly can.
Your fingers tangle in his hair and you arch into him, embracing his clear desire against you. You're falling and falling and falling, becoming more drunk with every touch and kiss from Mark. Ever since the first day you met, you couldn't help but yearn for his touch. Now, having a taste of him like this, you're desperate to experience more.
Although you're underneath him, you decide to take hold of the kissing. When he takes a breather for an instant, you steal the chance and fervently kiss along his jaw and rugged neck. Mark moans, gripping your waist harder, and grinds into you, his hardness dying to be free.
Shockingly, he suddenly tears away, sitting up and panting. Confused, you mirror him.
“Should we stop?” he asks. “Like, I know I might be being presumptuous, but I don’t wanna ruin our potential next date if we rush too soon?”
It melts your heart that he retracted because he's concerned over your potential future. You delicately rearrange some of his loose hair stuck to his forehead. “If you want to stop, we can.”
He pouts, reminding you of him previously at the park, followed by a cute whimper.
“But I don’t want to stop...” he laugh-smiles, leaning into you, about to drive his mouth into yours again.
“Neither do I.”
And with that, Mark makes the split-second decision to continue this good thing and not look back. Once again, he's leaving love upon your shoulders, at a measured pace currently, and he carefully lowers your dress. Drooping off your shoulders, you let it drop and bunch around your stomach.
Surprise is written on his face, as you didn't wear a bra underneath your dress, but the surprise quickly dissipates into enthrallment over the beautiful sight.
He lowers himself, mouth traversing across your chest while his free hand gently massages one of your breasts. You succumb to the rising pleasure, curving into him again.
When he arrives at one tip of yours, he looks up and asks, his voice low and gravelly, “Can I...?”
You whimper-nod, already on the verge of begging him to take the next step.
It kills you that he teases first, merely pecking the surrounding area and your tip; his mouth leaving goosebumps in its wake. Your patience grows thin.
“Mark, please, just—”
Air is depleted as his tongue swipes against your nipple in a broad stroke. He then wraps his mouth around it, sucking firmly. The other hand that was kneading your other breast turns to focus on your nipple, pinching it between his index finger and thumb.
The more he sucks, the more you hear the wet puckering of his lips, the more it makes you clench tighter. Bliss begins to boil in your abdomen when he flicks his tongue and mimics the same on your other tit with the pad of his thumb.
Your breathing grows heavier, and you sense you're close, but Mark abruptly stops. You're about to speak up, believing he'd be the type to finish you off if you ask, until you realize he's kneeling on the floor in front of you and stripping off his t-shirt.
With your help, Mark eases your dress to the floor and places it safely on the coffee table. Focusing on you, his gaze is dripping of lust—so carnal, so different than his regular self.
As Mark advances to your heat, your palms graze over his defined shoulders and back. He parts your legs further with his hands wrapped around your inner thigh.
“Wearing panties?” he inquires, his finger pulling the fabric a bit to the side.
“Huh?”
“No bra, but panties?” he smirks, making you realize the joke.
You roll your eyes and relax momentarily, leaning your head back. “Are you into that? No panties underneath?”
“Could be hot,” he shrugs, tugging your underwear to your calves and tossing them off to the side.
“Maybe one date I can do th-ah—”
Without warning, he dives in, one his hands now grasping you by your lower back, and you lurch forward to get a good view of his head between your legs. You've got a grip on his shoulder, the other tugging at his hair.
His tongue laps at your folds with agility, figures out what you like or don't like. There isn't much you don't like, Mark deduces. Languid licks. Penetrating patterns. Fast flicks.
You respond eagerly to them all with harsh tugs to his hair, notably when he spreads your folds to devour you entirely. The hair pulling hurts a bit, but he doesn't mention anything; he likes it a little rough.
Despite the positive reactions, he can tell you've been at a simmer with his moves, not quite reaching close to a high. He withdraws his mouth, and, through your hazy vision, you catch sight of his honeyed lips.
But your eyes blow wide open and an acute moan dispels as your lover of the night fills you with his fingers, alongside his licking of your clit.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
Following a few more minutes of scissoring and a few sucks to your bundle of nerves, he asks, breathing into your inner thigh, “Does this feel good, gorgeous?”
Your lip is drawn between your teeth, digging so hard from the pleasure you wonder if it'll bleed soon. “Mm-hmm.”
“Good,” he says, kissing your thigh tenderly, “'cause I'm gonna need you to remember how good tonight is so you'll keep coming back for more.”
Not gonna be a problem, you think, but all you could muster is senseless panting.
“You close?”
You can barely release a whimper out to respond, and Mark orders you to tell him when you're near.
It doesn't take long to get there. The warmth in your abdomen encapsulates your body and your hips rut upward frantically, desiring your climax to take authority.
“Mark, Mark, Mark. Fuck, I'm close, I'm—”
Immediately, he stands up, fingers still inside you and somehow impaling you further and faster while his thumb lazily strokes at your clit when possible, and his ardent kiss is the needed catalyst to take you over the brink. Simultaneously, the kiss swallows your bountiful whines.
When you finally come down from your high, you kiss him deeply and feel him through his jeans against you.
“Let's take this to the bedroom, I need to grab—”
“Should I run to the pharmacy to—?”
In tandem, you chuckle over how in sync you are, and tip your perspired foreheads against the other.
Holding his hand, you lead him to your bedroom. You turn on your bedside lamp and gesture to the tissues, so he can clean his hands. You then bound to your bedroom bathroom and fumble around to find your condom packs somewhere in a drawer.
Upon your return, you're graced with the sight of Mark sitting naked on the edge of your bed, stroking himself. You almost salivate.
God, he's bigger than you expected, and that's only one part of his magnificent body. You didn't have the opportunity before to admire his muscular abs, but you take every chance to do so now. The way his arm flexes with each stroke. And those thighs...
“Sorry,” he murmurs and shyly shrinks a bit, in contrast to his lewd action, “hope it's okay that I took my pants off already.”
He really is quite endearing. Maybe even a little perfect.
“There is absolutely nothing to apologize for, Mark.”
You place the condoms onto your bedside table, but are so absorbed with Mark's cock and existence. Entranced, it's your turn to drop to your knees.
Fingers wrap around his cock, and Mark's groans rise. You delve in your enthrallment for a bit, squeezing and stroking to your heart's content until you finally decide to ease him into your mouth.
Your tongue works wonders, tasting the underside of his length with every bob of your head. Meanwhile, his hands lazily thread through your hair and he watches attentively.
More saliva develops and drips, especially when you relax your mouth to let him hit the back of your throat. Obscene slurps accompany his delicate moans, both of which permeate the room in melodious unity.
As his threading develops into tight pulls of your hair, you detract yourself to avoid the night ending right then and there.
Since he's still sitting on the side of the bed, you sit onto his lap with a plan to abate and elongate the tension. You're back to kissing him, allowing both parties' hands to roam each other.
“I love your arms,” you mumble into his mouth as you reach for them.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “I know you love my sexy arms.” You punch him teasingly.
But an idea flickers in your head. You halt your actions.
“This might be weird to ask, but could I...” you trail off, picking at your hands, realizing maybe you shouldn't finish your question.
“Hey,” he whispers, holding your chin in his hand. “You can ask me anything, beautiful.”
You hesitate with closed eyes.
“Could I... ride your arm?”
Peeking a nervous eye open, an evidently puzzled Mark stares back at you.
“I—What? Sure?” His voice raises in octaves.
Embarrassed, you try to wave it off. “Never mind that I asked.”
“No, hey,” he says, his palm caressing the side of your face and angling it towards him. “I'm flattered and obviously, nobody has ever asked to ride my arm before. But if you want to give it a go, by all means, I'm open to it.”
“Yeah?”
Mark gives you the sweetest smile and a reassuring nod. “Yeah.”
Since you suggested it, you lead him to lay on the bed, more in the centre so there'd be enough room for you to sit. He watches you gingerly lift his hand near head-level, as if he's almost flexing to show-off or about to lay his head on his palm.
Carefully, you sit onto his left arm, facing the direction of his body. At the contact, you shudder. “Is this okay?”
He agrees, enticed by your ass near his face and the general exquisiteness of your being. “You can put more weight on it, it's okay.”
You comply, relishing in the pressure of his arm against you. After becoming more comfortable and placing most of your weight to an arm on the bed, you slowly rub yourself upon his arm.
Mark's fascinated by this foreign act, eyes watching your every move. With his free hand, he touches himself.
His favourite part about you riding his arm? The look on your face—fluttering eyes paired with your lip biting—and the fact that you find him this attractive, that using him this way can simply get you off.
“This okay still?” you breathe.
“Fuck yeah.” He squeezes himself harder. He knows the answer to the next question, but he wants to hear it from you directly. “Does it feel good for you?”
You assent with a sharp moan. Without notice, you lick your palm with the intent of reaching over to grab his cock. At first, he's confused when he notices your hand, but he happily lets you handle him.
“Oh, God,” Mark pants.
You fasten your pace on his arm, grinding greedily against him. As you do so, your arm attempts to match the pace for his desire.
“Fuck,” Mark twists his head to look at your hips, tries to focus on how wet you are amidst his own pleasure, “you really do love my arms...”
It's a sweet dream for you—no, sweeter than any dream or fantasy could ever be. This is real, this spectacular sensation spreading all over and it's all thanks to his arm. Your body winds up, tighter and tighter, and you eventually break, chasing your second orgasm of the night.
Cleaning your mess up, you wipe his arm fast, keen on what's about to happen next. You then draw him into your mouth a bit to get him up again before rolling the condom onto him.
Once the rubber is on, you tease him from above, sliding the tip of his cock against your pulsing centre.
Mark may be a gentleman, but a gentleman can only be patient for so long. He seizes his possession and you gasp as he holds you by your hip, forcing you to sit down onto him.
The feeling is heavenly, stretching you sweetly. You bounce on his cock, and the sounds from you two are louder than from before. There's a small voice inside your head, worried about a noise complaint from your neighbours, but future you could deal with that.
Right now, it's all about Mark. He plays with your breasts with every move you make, while you fondle his abs and arms. Both of you try your best to look at one another through the pleasure, but it's difficult when you're floating higher and higher.
He then clasps your lower back and skillfully rises upward with the help of his strong abs. This position provides an angle for him to do all the work to thrust into you, as well as continuing to rub your breasts and even suck on them again.
At this point, you're in absolute state of frenzy, drowning in all the stimulation. Mark's underwater, right there with you too.
He pulls away in the midst of licking your nipple, his eyes going round. Nevertheless, you lean into him, your breasts pressed into his face and your mouth hangs.
Together, you cry each other's names and swear in endless spirals and the bliss finally reaches its peak for the evening.
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As Mark lays next to you in your bed, observing your peaceful sleeping state, he's obviously amazed by tonight's events, but he’s also unsure what’s in-store for either of you.
There are so many factors at play with his career, you're both essentially still strangers, the future is unknown...
And yet, despite these worries, the feeling blooming in his chest is more than a blossoming liking. It’s akin to the moment he steps up to plate, either ready to bat or pitch. Nervousness, determination, and...
It’s too early to call it, but when he’s around you, he swears it feels a lot like his love for the game.
He shakes his head, not wanting to jump into the deep end this fast. He doesn't want to ruin this good thing prematurely.
Nevertheless, he places one last kiss atop your forehead before he sleeps, praying you'll be a new constant in his life, at least in the near future.
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EPILOGUE — FOUR MONTHS LATER
Today is game four of the World Series and your city has won the previous three. If they continue their streak, tonight will be the night where Mark and his teammates take home the championship.
Hours prior to the big game, the teams are having batting practice beforehand to warm-up.
With your chin perched in your palm, you watch Mark closely—of course, safely from a distance and from behind him—and nod with every ball he hits well at the mound. You're seated in the lower area of the stadium among many of the other team members' families and friends, including a gleeful Chenle.
“Stop checking out your boyfriend's ass,” he orders, nudging you with his shoulder as he tosses a piece of popcorn into his mouth.
“You stop checking out my boyfriend's ass,” you retort, nudging him back.
The two of you continue your little nudging contest until he says, “So when you guys get married—”
“Oh, my God, Chenle...”
“I'm just saying, we all know you two are going to have beautiful little baseball player babies! Anyway, as I was saying, when you guys get married, can Daegal be the ringbearer somehow? She's pretty much the reason why you guys got together in the first place.”
You shake your head, eyes still on your love. “Chenle, we'll have that conversation when and if we get there.”
“When we'll get there,” he states confidently, and you laugh, dismissing him.
Sure, it may have been a fresh relationship only four months in, but you couldn't deny that maybe the idea of marriage wiggled its way through your mind here and there. Despite your thoughts, it wasn't at the forefront; you were happy in love with Mark now, here in the present.
Player #02 hands his bat over to another player and jogs towards you. It makes you wonder why he hasn't done an advertisement with slo-mo running and wind blowing through his hair yet.
“How’d I do?” Mark asks, leaning onto the railing next to you. Chenle gives him two thumbs up with a large grin.
“Awesome," you agree. "Did you think about hitting my head with each ball?”
Mark chuckles and juts his tongue to a side of his mouth. “You’re never going to let me live that down, huh?”
“Never,” you quip, scrunching your nose. You reach out for him and hold the tips of his fingers in yours. “You nervous?”
“Yeah,” he exhales, closing his eyes. “More than usual.”
Your fingers progress forward and your thumbs rub the back of his hands lovingly. “You’ll do amazing, like always.”
“You’re too sweet, babe. But this might be the game and I might—”
You cut him off by cupping his cheek in your palms.
“And you are the Mark ‘The Tiger’ Lee”—you tenderly swipe some of his hair away from his face—“top contender for both the Rookie of the Year and CY Young Award. So no matter what happens, you will come out on top.”
In awe and in a little disbelief with how well-put that was, he stares at you with starry, doe-like eyes. He's so grateful to have met you, to have someone so supportive of him in his life.
After a few moments, he concedes. “I had a pretty great run this season, haven’t I?”
You admire how humble your boyfriend always is. It's one of his greatest traits.
“And you have me,” you add jokingly.
He tilts his head side to side. “I guess there’s that too...”
The two of you share a kiss, innocent at first, until he deepens it and you wrap your arms around his neck, which generates some of his teammates to holler and whistle. Likewise, you hear Chenle screech, "Save it for after the win!" and you swear you feel some popcorn being thrown at your back.
Finally, until you're content, you peel away and press your forehead against his.
“Go get ‘em, Tiger,” you whisper.
Mark nods, a little more confident than before. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“So much,” he punctuates it with a loving squeeze to your shoulder.
You don't think you'll see him before the game starts, so you grant him one last good luck kiss.
You wouldn't know it that night, but by the end of the season, Mark would indeed take home the Rookie of the Year and the CY Young Award, being the youngest recipient of both awards.
That evening though, your city's team works in unbelievable harmony (or maybe the opposing team is having its worst day) because the game is a perfect one. Mark shuts out the other team, not allowing them to have any runs whatsoever...
Thus, sealing his first title of being a World Series champion.
But certainly not without his beloved running out into the field to give him a congratulatory hug and kiss among the sea of people.
And at the end of that night in the confines of your bedroom (after earth-shattering celebratory sex), you would find out that Chenle was right (and later, that he was in on it) when Mark, merely in his boxers, gets on one knee with a little opened box in front of you.
He's visibly shaking, and not because he's half-naked. You've never seen him so unnerved. Your love spills the following in almost one breath:
“I know we just started dating, and we can be engaged for, like, ten years or whatever. I just know that, deep down, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I may have felt this way since our first date. I really, really, really hope you feel the same, even if just a little bit."
Mark takes a deep breath, trying to regain composure for the important question he exhales.
Tears rise in your eyes as an ocean of feelings hit you, but within that ocean, no doubts rise to the surface whatsoever.
All you think about is how you will be forever grateful for the baseball that hit your head on that life-changing day.
You immediately say yes.
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lucyandthepen · 7 months
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sweet cream, cold brew | lmh ( m )
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something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and you’re pretty sure that it isn’t the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.
alternatively: mark is shy until he isn’t.
read the second part here!
pairing: nerd!barista!mark x reader verse: college au rating: r ( minors, do not interact! ) warnings&tags: unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slightly possessive/jealous dialogue, mark has a thing for tummy bulges because why not, implicitly that also means he has a big dick, a slight???? exhibitionism kink (not actually something that happens, only talked about), johnny exists in this simply to trigger something vaguely feral in mark, reader is a little bit assertive and schemes to get mark's attention, jaehyun is a nosy lil eavesdropper, i think that should be it?? word count: 26.4k
a/n: hello so this was a mess and honestly not a fic i would say showcases my best plot-wise but… what can I say apart from booty wurk mark has me in a chokehold and I needed to release some thoughts and feelings !!! please do not expect too much from the development of the story; i fear it’s quite long and choppy because my ideas were all over the place and i was wringing my hands and brain constantly and i was eager to get to the spicy parts !! this is also not beta’d/proofread, it’s currently almost 1am, and i’ve been writing this on and off for a full week with very few breaks so it honestly felt like a fever dream for me LMAO please forgive any oversights and mistakes; i’ll try to go back on them another day and fix them little by little! finally and …most importantly belated happy birthday, my beloved morkly!
p.s. this will probably be flagged as ‘mature’ by tumblr, which means there’s a high likelihood it won’t appear in tags or searches. please consider reblogging to boost the fic, if you feel so inclined!
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You’ve heard tell of how caffeine has inherently addictive properties. 
The more of it you have in your lifetime, the more likely you are to experience symptoms of withdrawal whenever you try to have orange juice for breakfast in its stead. It sounds bad, actually, considering most addictive substances are, but you suppose that its benefits somehow outweigh its milder drawbacks. You’re not much of a coffee connoisseur the way some people — see: your best friends, Yeji and Jisu — are, trying one cafe after the other in pursuit of being able to nominate the winning beans of 2023 (an annual heated debate they participate in for no better reason than their own slow and useless entertainment during their six-hour long breaks), but you do know you’ve only ever experienced good things from having a cup every so often: better energy, a more focused approach to mental activities, and the ability to drive through fifty percent of a road trip without needing pop punk music blasting out of your speakers to keep yourself alert. 
The three of you are generally particular about the coffee you drink, only in different ways. While your friends have a tendency to demand only the best from any establishment — lest the staff hear fiery commentary about the flatness of the brew or the evident coarseness of the grind — you, on the other hand, are a singular individual of rather simple tastes. All you need to survive long days is a glass of vanilla sweet cream cold brew. No modifications to the sugar level or fancy new milk types are necessary; you’ll drink it as it’s served in a grande cup (or a venti, when things prove particularly grueling). 
Of course, you’re strict about other things in the experience of consumption —  like where it’s served and, more importantly, who serves it to you. 
While Yeji and Jisu have rated the Liberal Arts building’s on-campus Starbucks branch as a five with the strict label of POEO — ‘passable on emergencies only’ — branding the menu as “nothing revolutionary” and criticizing most baristas for subpar brewery, you happen to be extremely drawn to the place. Initially, you may have argued that this has to do with the fact that it’s walking distance from most of your classes, confined to the same general compound on campus, so you can always grab a quick recharger whenever needed, no matter how short the timeframe to do so is. Sometime later on, you may have found yourself asserting that the layout of the cafe, albeit small, is very convenient, considering that every table is situated next to an electrical outlet, so you’re never out of battery (important to other students for their laptops and powerpoint presentations, important to you because you have an unhealthy obsession with passing time on TikTok, scrolling past video after video of ASMR girls clicking their twenty-inch long acrylics with their crazy candyland designs), and this makes you feel at ease. 
A month ago, you finally came clean to yourself and, soon after, to your friends, and they came to understand, albeit begrudgingly and with no small amount of amusement, what made this Starbucks unbeatable in your eyes; it had one thing no other coffee shop could lay claim to.
What you know of Mark Lee is accrued from two major sources: long, surreptitious glances in the Modern World History class you share, and irritatingly brief interactions when you place your order from the other side of the counter behind which he stands, long fingers always poised to punch in your order at the speed of light. Sometimes, those encounters get cut even shorter when irate upperclassmen start prattling their orders out before you can even say anything past your own, except even this has its own consolation prize — an apologetic smile at you that seems only for you, although you’re not sure how much of this assumption is true. You’ll just believe it as you feel it. 
And what you’ve learned about Mark Lee has funneled down into two key points for you: first, he is single, a fact you were clued into when a group of his friends came to the coffee shop and sat around the table next to you. You hadn’t been eavesdropping; they’d just been pretty loud, but you’d also perked your ears the moment the one everyone seemed to call “Hyuck” — you aren’t sure if it’s his full name or a nickname, and you don’t particularly care — had leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper about having a vague master plan to set Mark up with an old high school friend’s younger sister that he was just waiting to spring on said Mark, busy slaving away on their six impossible orders near the espresso machine. 
You don’t really know what became of that plan, nor if anyone had telepathically been on your side to outright call it crazy (someone should have had a better reason than you, anyway) since the next moment, Hyuck’s voice becomes significantly louder when it orders the one named Jisung to collect the completed coffee and snacks waiting for them on the counter. However, you feel safe in the assumption that even if it had happened, no repercussions had followed, seeing as Mark still presently comes and goes from his shifts alone and in no clear hurry to meet any cute girls that are sisters of high school friends of his friends. Or, maybe you’re just ignoring what could be truth, but that’s whatever. 
Second, you’ve learned that Mark Lee should not actually be your type — at least, in theory. 
Saying you’re out of his league would be a bit juvenile, but if you had only so many words to describe the situation, you’d say so under duress. It isn’t so much that he’s beneath you in any way, but your interests and general social circles run different routes. Yours tend to be more classically patterned after constantly changing trends, and the people you interact with all seem to have similar goals; you like to call it ‘vibe networking,’ which, from experience, involves connecting with both groups and individuals that are equally aware that they will benefit in some way from any resulting acquaintanceship — whether it be by climbing the social ladder a couple of rungs or being able to call in a quick, off-the-charts favor for something very important and/or very exclusive down the road. You and your friends spend a significant amount of time in a year watching your style and image, something quite a lot of kids in the first couple of years of college tend to do, which means that while you don’t particularly like to spend your time following your grade trajectory, you do have quite a lot of pseudo-friends that all seem to offer something entertaining or helpful to you. 
Mark, on the contrast, prefers to keep his circle very close to his heart, it seems — that which acts as a receptacle for all his interests. You can tell that he likes to be up to date less with trending movies and more with comic books, a separate beast of a world that’s rather unknown to you. More than once, you’ve overheard him chat with his friends about Spider-man Issue Number Whatever-It-Is or engage in somewhat lively (sometimes rowdy, thanks to the Hyuck fellow) discussions about some webtoon you’ve come to understand is called Solo Leveling, which seems to have to do with monsters and hunters — two things you know next to nothing about. You’ve also never seen Mark holding anything remotely close to a magazine; his hands are always filled with either a freshly opened comic or a beat-up textbook. Maybe once or twice, you’ve seen him on his phone, but when you peeked over (surreptitiously, of course) on those occasions, you were met only with brightly colored panels and a singular word: BAM. 
In conclusion — you and Mark Lee live very different lives, likely never truly meant to intersect. 
And yet, you want him — not even in a way that speaks only to your curiosity, but in a manner that feels slightly delusional. More than once, you’ve found yourself having to shut your jaw close after realizing you’ve been watching him steam milk with your mouth slightly agape. Maybe it’s his side profile, which gives you a great view of the way his jaw tenses every time he puts whipped cream on someone’s frappuccino. Maybe it’s his eyes, which always seem to twinkle like he’s harboring some special secret every time someone in line asks for his recommendation on how to spice their order up. Maybe it’s his hands, steady and agile, with just the right showing of veins through the skin to tell you they’ve probably got significant strength to them too. Or maybe it’s just his mind — that thing he always manages to show off in class, working faster than lightning even when the rest of you are in your natural eight-in-the-morning stupor.
Whatever the reason for your interest, Mark Lee makes sure the Liberal Arts building’s Starbucks has you as a regular customer. 
You’re fully aware that this is the twenty-first century, which is why you could, as Yeji and Jisu have so kindly made known, simply ask him out. Under normal circumstances, you would have.
Unfortunately, in this particular area of your life, separate from all others, you’re something of a traditionalist. 
Actually, you just want to know what Mark asking you out would look like. Curiosity has fully gotten the better of you — how can it not, with how he breaks eye contact with you the moment it happens by accident in class, or with how pleasantly and shyly he smiles when you say ‘hey’ to him once you’re about to order? You’d like to see, first-hand, as a recipient of the experience itself, what he would look like taking control of a particular situation like that — something someone like him, so mild-mannered and laid-back, never really seemed to do upfront. 
You’d like to think you’ve given him clear signs. There’s a reason you always come in during his shift times, and it’s the same reason for why you have the same damn drink from the menu over and over again despite not even caring too much about coffee in the first place (something he admittedly doesn’t know and probably wouldn’t puzzle out, given how often you’re in that Starbucks, anyway). It’s that you want him to remember you.
Selfishly, it’s that you want him to think just a little bit more about you every single day. 
But if he does, Mark has never made it very clearly known; apart from taking your order in his genial customer service demeanor or letting a look of brief recognition pass his face over when you cross paths in the hallways, he’s never really shown heightened inquisitiveness about you. For all your differences, only you seem to actually care.
Frankly, that frustrates you, because if you have to think about him unhealthily, it would only be right for him to do that for your sake too. Still, you’ll shrug that hit on your pride off for as long as you can get his attention one way or another.
All you really need is for your plan to pan out as well as you think — and hope — it will. 
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The thing is, you’re not even that bad at math. You’ve never really excelled at it, of course, but you wouldn’t go so far as to say you’re in dire need of help from anyone — the kind of help that feels like babysitting, at least.
However, Mark Lee doesn’t know that, and you’re not compelled to make that fact known to him when you notice that he’s leaning on the counter with his elbows, shoulders rolled forward and head bent down. He’s twirling his ballpoint in hand, wrist hovering over a worksheet, and you’re briefly distracted by the rapidly moving shadow underneath it.
His head snaps up when you gently knock on the counter, and the rest of his body follows suit, straightening as he shoves the paper away, one edge crumpling in on itself as it meets resistance in the form of the pastry display glass.
“Hey — hi, _________.” He knows your name, says it easily, and while you’d like to believe it’s because of his unprecedented interest in you, you know that it’s just because you’re always here and always having him write your name on the side of your cup. “Can I get you the usual?”
There’s no particular reason you order what you do; maybe it’s just rooted in the fact that when you first asked Mark for a recommendation, he said that the Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew was pretty good, and you were inclined to believe him (while pointedly ignoring the fact that it was, at the time, a new item all of the baristas were required to push to indecisive, slightly moony-eyed customers such as yourself). Whatever the case, you found the drink generally palatable, and you were also able to score the first of many smiles that fed into your two-semester-long infatuation with him, so it was basically a win-win scenario for all. He even got to do his job by getting some rube (see: you) into trying a new product.
“Hey, Mark.” You’ve long since given up pretending that you don’t know his name and have to check the tag on his cute green apron (why is it cute? You don’t know. It’s the same, standard, Starbucks green, but Mark makes it look homely and natural, somehow). You’ve been here way too many times over the last academic year for a nonchalant, were you talking to me? approach to work, anyway. “That, plus a lemon loaf, if you don’t mind. What’ve you got there?”
His eyes follow the trail of yours over to his wrinkled worksheet. “Oh — no, sorry. It’s nothing.”
“Is it secret?” Your bottom lip juts out, and you see his Adam’s apple bob dangerously, a small telltale sign of minute nervousness before he lets out a short laugh. “Didn’t know we kept stuff from each other.”
You don’t know what makes you say that so naturally. The both of you don’t do much beyond exchanging pleasantries.
“We — uh, well, it’s just a worksheet. For Park Hyosung’s class. College algebra?”
“I’m in Kim Junghwa’s. Can I have a look? I want to know if you’re suffering just as much as I am.”
He pauses, considering your request for a moment, likely wondering if there’s any harm in it before he smooths the paper out and turns it towards you. His handwriting’s a little messy, but his solutions are extremely neat. You see, like, one erasure, max. You also don’t see anything that interests you — except the name written at the top. Still, you can see at a general glance that more than half of his answers are correct; the logic of his organization is way too elegant and his writing’s too sure to be anything else. You whistle low, and his eyebrows shoot up.
“Something wrong?”
“Pretty much the opposite. How is it that you’re doing this without breaking a sweat?”
“Oh, well — it’s not…” He doesn’t even know how to brag. Yet another item in the perpetually growing list of things you find cute about Mark Lee. “I mean, anyone… can?”
“I must not be anyone then.” You meet his quizzical look with a wry smile. “Either you guys are leaps and bounds ahead, or I’m really not going to make it through this semester.”
Another silence passes, just for a fraction of a second — short enough to be passable to others, but long enough for you to wonder if your humor code isn’t up to par with the rest of the world’s — before Mark’s chuckling lowly. His large palm comes down, covering a majority of his answers in the process.
“You’re kidding. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”
“Mark, look at this face.” You gesture to your evidently dumbfounded, blank expression. “Does this look like the face of someone that’s doing just fine?”
You’re pleased to hear another laugh from him; you don’t know if he really finds you funny or if he’s just the type to be easily amused. You don’t want to know, anyway; assuming is better than actually finding out.
“That bad, huh?” He slides the worksheet away again, like he’s afraid his correct answers are going to offend you into leaving the cafe. Instead, his hands start working on your order, grabbing a cup and scrawling the shorthand of the drink on one of the little boxes. “Ever think about getting a tutor, maybe? If you really feel like you’re drowning, that is.”
“A tutor? I guess that depends. Are you free on weeknights?”
The marker makes a soft screeching sound as he drags it down with too much force, ruining the penmanship of your name. Mark takes a moment to stare at the mistake on the plastic before he looks at you, pointing the rim of the cup towards himself. “Sorry — am I free—?”
“You said I should get a tutor, right?”
“I thought — no, sorry, I was thinking more like one of those department-assigned tutors you can ask the faculty for, or something.”
“Oh. Are you not one of them?” You sigh, albeit a little over dramatically. Thankfully, he doesn’t really cotton onto your acting, too caught up in befuddlement at the turn of the conversation. “That’s a bummer. I was kinda hoping that if I was going to ask for help, I’d get an actual genius. You know — someone like you?”
You can tell by Mark’s expression that he’s torn between denying your compliment again and responding to your actual question; he looks both relieved and miffed when the student behind you clears her throat.
“Sorry, but— you know that there’s a line, right?”
You both apologize, Mark’s much more sincere than your own, and you step aside. His gaze follows you for a moment before it snaps back to the next customer, his voice abandoning that bemused uncertainty it had taken up with you. You don’t really mind; as far as you’re concerned, any dent in his barista persona when he talks to you is a step in the right direction.
You hang around the pick-up area, receipt in hand, watching Mark clear the line before moving to the actual stations near the kitchen area. There’s a concentration on his face that you find all the more attractive; he has a habit of chewing on his bottom lip when he’s trying to focus on getting the drizzle just right inside the cup’s cylinder.
He tends to try his best at everything, you figure. Not an unattractive quality — not by a long shot.
Mark finishes your drink first; the milk’s still only seeping, cloudy, into the coffee when he brings it over. He doesn’t even have to call your queue number, opting to meet your eye — albeit slightly nervously — instead. You reach out to hold the cup, a calculated move that allows you to brush hands against his without him being able to pull back on instinct. He doesn’t, nor does he really seem to want to, but his jaw tightens as a flush creeps along the curve of his ears.
“You really won’t help me?”
Your question’s abrupt, almost a little demanding, even if your voice is sweet. You’re not above asking this much, anyway, even if you technically want him to make the first move. The redness sinks down to his earlobes.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t really say anything,” you tease. The cup’s on the counter now, so he can easily relinquish it to you at this point, but he still hesitates, only one hand slipping out from under the heat of your palm. He uses it to rub the back of his neck, chuckling softly, and you take this as a green light. “What time does your shift end?”
“Five-thirty. You sure you wouldn’t want someone better?”
You pull your cup slowly to yourself, and his hand, still lightly trapped by your own, follows for a few inches before he’s withdrawing, the counter between the two of you forcing the distance. A smile follows the shaking of your head, and you take a small sip of the drink before you respond simply.
“There’s no one better than you.”
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Mark is a prompt kind of person; you learn this when, at five-thirty, he comes over to your table, tugging his apron off over his head. Of course, you might attribute that to his overall personality, but the fact that you spend the remaining two hours of his shift casting him glances from the left side of the coffee shop might have also been a contributing factor. The looks you give him aren’t even furtive; they’re deliberately long, so you never miss whenever he looks over to you from time to time.
He doesn’t hold eye contact for very long (he does it well enough when he’s talking to customers, but it’s not like you’re ordering another cold brew from across the room at that point), but you can read snippets of his thoughts through the fleeting gaze exchanges. He’s curious as to why you’re asking for help, now, of all times, when the semester’s more than halfway over. He’s surprised that you asked him, of all people, because he just can’t conceive of a world that isn’t within a television show where this kind of abrupt, overt request makes sense. He’s flattered that you even asked him out of the blue. He’s equal parts anxious and eager to know what’s meant to happen after his shift, once he starts fulfilling your request.
Most of all, he’s unsure if he’s reading you right — if what it feels like you’re doing is something he’s attaching too deep a meaning to. If he’s right in reading your signs.
You don’t really mind it; you like knowing that Mark somehow wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he tries to remain neutral for the sake of appearances. You also bask quietly in the fact that he’s looking at you twice as much as he ever has in the time you’ve loosely known each other. Still, his bubbling confusion and inquisitiveness seem to be interfering with the rest of his work, especially when you notice that he’s been wiping down the surface of a table two down from where you are for more than seven minutes.
In the hopes of easing whatever tension might be in his heart, you offer him a small smile, but that’s only met with his eyes immediately glazing over and inching a couple of centimeters above your forehead, where the story of Starbucks’ origins is drawn out in a faux-manga style. He pretends to find it interesting, as if he hasn’t seen it a million times from coming into this establishment day after day — you know it well enough, and you don’t even have to, considering you don’t work here — and you can’t do anything but hold back your laughter.
A small part of you says you should just give him the affirmative answer to his biggest question, but every other cell in your body says that it’s no fun if he doesn’t ascertain it for himself.
He has his school bag and textbook in tow when he approaches, taking the seat across from you. There’s a steely resolution on his face, like he’s been emotionally preparing himself for such a daunting task, but it eases up the moment you laugh lightly.
“You don’t have to act like I’m going to eat you.”
“I’m still not sure why you’re suddenly asking me to help you,” he admits. He’s also very honest, you note. Again, not an unattractive trait. “I’m not complaining. I just didn’t think you even had an opinion of me.”
“Why’s that?” You’re genuinely surprised. Mark drums his fingers on the front of his textbook, thoughtful — less for the sake of thinking what to say and more for the sake of considering how to say it. It’s clear he wants to avoid calling attention to the fact that before now, you two have had no reason to run the same track, let alone sit together and talk at a coffee shop, as if you’ve always been the best of friends.
“Genuinely just thought I was the guy who gave you your afternoon coffee every day,” he finally settles. Your eyes widen, and another laugh escapes you — a little louder this time, enough to call the attention of a couple of jumpy freshmen nearby.
“Well — let me put it this way.” You lean over slightly, cupping your chin in your palm. “Was I just the girl you made coffee for every day until now?”
There are clear cogs turning in his head; his eyes unfocus slightly as he thinks of the possibilities. His silence suddenly makes you somewhat nervous; your tone had been confident, and you’d only said that to prove a point, to push him in the right direction, but you realize that you hadn’t previously factored in the possibility that he might simply say yes — or, worse, say no just to avoid hurting your feelings.
You watch his lower lip curl in; he uses his tongue to smooth out the skin that’s slightly dried from work fatigue. You would much rather it peeked out, so you could imagine it against your own. His response is mumbled in a lower register, but you catch some key syllables — didn’t… not … stranger — pretty … you?
“Sorry?” You ask patiently, but the fact that he turns red and laughs again — something you realize is not only a trademark of his personality but also downright delicious of him to be doing — is all the answer you need to let the apprehension seep from your shoulders. “I didn’t catch that.”
Mark clears his throat. “No, I… didn’t think of you that way. I mean… you’re my classmate.”
“Sure,” your tone’s breezy, but the somewhat sloppy confirmation of interest in you makes your heart soar. He just needs more of a push. “And we’re basically friends, right?”
“Yeah.” His voice is unsure at first, like he can’t seem to wrap his head around the concept. You can tell that Mark’s notion of friendship is likely based on shared interests, of which you admittedly have none. Technically, if you were his friend, you’d spend less time just telling him the exact same order every single day and more time sitting around a table trying to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering with him. Still, he takes one long look at your grin and suddenly gains confidence in his next words, as if it somehow convinces him that the briefness of your old conversations had been a mutually agreed-upon thing and not the product of social distance between the two of you. “Yeah. We’re friends.”
“Right. Friends help friends, don’t they? I’d definitely feel more comfortable having a friend teach me than some stuffy upperclassman I don’t know.”
You see Mark’s lips move slightly, in such small movements you could have imagined it as breathing if you didn’t care too much (which you do). He mouths, to himself — friends help friends. For some reason, that boosts his conviction even further, and he nods.
“Makes sense. Well — for as long as you don’t mind me, then.”
“Mind? I asked you, so I should be saying that.”
“I’d never mind — I mean, of course I don’t mind.” He’s quick to correct himself, and you have to stop your own hand from reaching out to try to satisfy your curiosity, the desire to know just how hot his cheeks get when he blushes. “More than happy to help, actually.”
“And I’m more than happy to be here.” You beam at him, and he mirrors your smile. You don’t know what it is about the look on his face — the brightness in his eyes, or the slight lift of his eyebrows, maybe — but it gives you the impression that he might be feeling at least a fraction of what you are: the feeling of your heart lifting off a few inches from your rib cage. “Since we’re on the same page, I hope — should we get to it?”
From the moment that Mark opens his textbook to a chapter on inverted parabolas, he assumes a personality you feel you haven’t seen from him before. You realize that you really do know him in only two limited capacities — his classroom persona that seems to really only view himself and the material, focused on the board and the professor’s words (even up until the useless anecdotes) to absorb as much information as possible, and his more genial customer service form, always happy to assist in the trained, easygoing way you’ve come to meet so often.
Right now, he’s a blend of both, yet somehow neither all at once. He’s quick to catch the parabolas you draw, either wrongly or downright poorly. Despite initial hesitation, he always manages to say something; there’s already a pattern to how he does it, from his slightly awkward, “Ah, sorry, actually —” to the way his finger traces over what you’ve written, outlining the right curve. You find his interruptions so endearing that you start drawing them wrong purposefully — not enough for him to realize your schemes in their entirety, but enough to cast you a few amused glances, like he can’t imagine why you’d map out such an absurd graph. You get the feeling he wants to actually laugh at how ridiculous you’re acting, but he can’t tell if you’re seriously struggling or not, so he settles for a smile he thinks he does well in keeping to himself, but that you catch anyway. He’s patient, even when you have to rip out pages from the back of his notebook because of your ‘mistakes,’ like he’s still catering to your request for an extra pump of syrup for your coffee on sleepy days.
But there’s also that side to him that comes out when he suddenly remembers the distance between you that, before today, had felt unlikely to be closed. It peaks at odd moments, like when you’re borrowing his pen because yours is currently holding your slowly unraveling bun up, and your fingers brush against his. It surfaces abruptly when you lean in to watch what he’s drawing until he realizes how close you are, arm lightly grazing his, and his pen freezes, ink blotting on the paper for a second. It’s in those times that you can almost hear his brain churning out questions — like he’s wondering if you’re just oblivious or if you’re doing something on purpose that he can’t quite believe. Like he wants to ask you what’s on your mind, but he just doesn’t know how.
If he asked, you would reply without missing a beat. The answer, after all, is simple (him). But Mark never raises the question, only does something without fully acknowledging what he’s doing — the adjustment of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the ruffling of his hair as though to shake off his thoughts, the clearing of his throat to normalize his tone before he explains something you’ve just asked about. There’s always that light tinge of pink to his face that makes him look even more endearing, and it fades and returns every so often for the better part of two hours.
By the time he rubs oncoming fatigue out of his eyes, the sun has already set; there are far fewer people around you at this time, and for as much as you like spending time with him and breathing in the scent of his shirt — always a tinge of Downy, barely cutting through the much more overpowering scent of espresso and sugar — your back has begun hurting from your front-heavy posture and determination to have your face as close as rationally possible to Mark’s. Still, you don’t miss out on the fact that the act of him cracking his neck to relieve tension makes your lips curl inward, trying to stifle an inappropriate noise in reaction to the view.
“I feel like I talked your ear off,” he pipes up, sounding a bit sheepish. “Sometimes it’s hard to know when to stop once you’ve gotten started. I’m just hoping I didn’t bore you to death.”
“Meanwhile, I’m here hoping you aren’t sick of my questions already.” You smile, closing your notebook and hanging the clip of your pen on the spiral. Your arms stretch up first, followed by your back, a light twist to relax your posture into normalcy again. Mark’s breathing falls quiet, like he’d been preparing to say something in response but had let it die in the back of his throat instead. You let your eyes drop, expecting to see him looking at you, as he mostly has been — on and off — since his shift ended, but his eyes are far lower than yours, the telltale redness now growing in evident splotches across his cheeks.
The hem of your shirt has ridden up; while there’s nothing outrageous about it, there’s a short expanse of skin that it reveals, for a brief moment. His eyes are slightly glossy, brow furrowed like he’s trying to find a solution to something he can’t fully understand. You’re not even sure about what he could really be looking at, or if there’s something he’s just thinking of that caught his attention while his eyes focused on a rather unfortunate spot. To test your theory, you suck in your stomach slightly alongside an inhale.
It should be objectively funny to watch Mark blink unevenly, left eye going first before his right tries to catch up, but you manage to stifle your laughter — poorly, though, because you end up coughing a little and breaking him out of his strange trance. You avert your eyes quickly enough for him to look vaguely relieved that you hadn’t caught him looking. So he thinks, at least.
“Anyway.” You feel bad that you have to tear his mind away from whatever faraway land it must be trying to burrow a hole in; the dazed expression on his face dims into hastily hidden embarrassment. You don’t want him to feel awkward, so you just busy yourself with packing up, making an unnecessary show of stuffing your notebook back into your bag as if it isn’t half-empty at this point. “I really appreciate you taking the time to help me.”
“Any time.” His first attempt is a little raspy, maybe from overuse of his voice today, so he clears his throat and tries again. A slow smile builds on your lips. “Any time, really. I’m glad that this is actually helping you; you pick things up surprisingly fast.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yeah. Give it a couple of weeks, and you’ll probably be ready to tackle it on your own again, I’m sure.”
He smiles reassuringly, but all you can think about is how that’s not good. You should pretend to be a little dumber next time, or this will end much too prematurely.
The next five minutes pass in silence; you don’t expect to be knee-deep in conversation anyway since, as much as you try to convince him, you aren’t actually anywhere close to being those kinds of friends yet. There’s an unspoken rule to the give and take of things, where he pauses for you to get an item off the table and push it into your bag before he does the same with his own belongings. Neither of you really intersect paths, save for the moment you both grab your phones and stand at the same time.
His jaw falls open like he’s preparing to say something, then shuts as if he’s better decided against it. You decide to take the initiative to say what you’re assuming he wants to. “Same time, same table?”
“Oh — uh, yeah, for sure.”
You want to ask him to walk out with you. You want to lace your fingers with his, tug him out, and kiss him under the green and white glow of the sign outside. You want to know if kissing his collarbone means you’ll taste a hint of coffee. You think about doing it all somehow, especially since he’s fighting back a slight smile at the promise of tomorrow.
But it just isn’t the right time.
Instead, you place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The slow movement of his throat — yet another hard swallow — isn’t lost on you, and his eyes land on where the two of you connect. With a grateful smile, you bid him a soft goodbye, taking your leave first.
You don’t look back — at least, not until you’re fully in the cover of the darkness outside. On the gravel path, just out of reach of the lamplight, you chance one last glance back into the store. Mark is still rooted to the same spot, his backpack slung over one shoulder, staring at the table like he’s dissociating from what just happened — like he can’t believe the last couple of hours.
Your smile grows when you see his own, and his hand comes around to the back of his neck, rubbing it lightly like it gives him small comfort to let him know that it was real.
Baby steps, you remind yourself. You’ve already got one foot in the door, after all.
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As the days trickle by, you fall into a more comfortable standing with Mark; there’s a routine to your meetings that seems to eliminate the initial and abrupt awkwardness of that first day. You come into that Starbucks at four, greet Mark, who doesn’t ever have to ask for your order, and spend the next hour and a half slowly sipping on it until the ice has thinned and watered down your drink substantially. In that time, you allow yourself to do whatever you want (as if you’ve ever done otherwise anyway), and what you usually want the most is a good view of him. You therefore use most of the minutes you have on hand to regard him from different angles — from the side when he’s frothing milk, upfront when he turns to leave cups on the pick-up counter, from the back when he’s clearing tables — interspersed with moments of checking your TikTok feed, clearing group chat messages, and sometimes re-curling your bangs with a portable iron from the school’s co-op center, a relatively new purchase you tote around these days. You do essentially anything in between to avoid acting too suspicious while he works.
Sometimes, you catch Mark’s eye too; the more your meetings increase in number over the course of a few weeks, the more deliberately he looks over at you, and the longer it lasts. You feel like you’ve made significant progress when your gazes lock and he smiles slightly, albeit a bit unsurely, instead of turning away like he used to. The other day, he’d even passed by while apologizing for how long you always waited for him — not that you ever minded, something you made a point to clarify with him before he walked away, carrying a couple of chairs from the back room with him to replace rickety ones.
That he’s able to transport them easily, as if he’s lugging a bag of apples from the grocery, does not escape your watchful eye.
What you like the most is that you start to learn more about him in a way that isn’t fueled only by your expectations and, therefore, limited by your imagination. You find out that he’s from a close-knit family with a rather cushy background, and this barista job is just for interest funding and experience, in that exact order. Most of his earnings are funneled into the things he collects, which apparently isn’t limited to comic books and special edition blu-rays with director’s cut but also a rather stupendous amount of PopMart blind box figurines. Apparently, he particularly likes the Skullpanda series even if he hasn’t completed it yet; your last session together had adjourned thirty minutes earlier than usual so that he could catch a pre-rush hour inner circle train to Hongdae, where the flagship store was set to open on that day. He’d promised to show you his pulls (as long as they weren’t embarrassing dupes). You learn that he likes to listen to loud music when he studies to stimulate his mind, and he has a playlist that’s just a jumble of songs from Punk Goes Pop volumes that makes him feel empowered for some absurd reason, like he’s going against the grain. You don’t really get it, but you do like that spiced-up rendition of Ariana Grande’s Problem that he let you listen to once.
Of course, there are things that you find out not through conversation but through continued, closer observation. You notice that he likes to put on chapstick even if his lips aren’t particularly dry, but he does worry on them often, most especially when he’s thinking hard about something. He has a habit of saying honestly… at the start of every other sentence, as if he’s concerned you won’t take his word on anything, even though he’s just talking about how unnaturally hot it was at noon despite it still being spring. He has long eyelashes that you’re equal parts attracted to and jealous of, and he bites the inside of his cheek whenever he wants to pep himself up after grueling shifts. He plays beats you’re not even sure he knows he’s creating against his knee with his fingers, so enthusiastic and consistent in this habit that you want to offer your thigh instead. His shoulders always go first before he laughs, and he does this thing where he raises his hand to cover his mouth at the start of it, which is a shame, because you’d do anything to keep seeing him smile like that — or, better yet, to be the reason for it.
Then there are those things you notice he tries to hide. He always turns his face halfway to the side when he blushes, something he seems to do without fail every time you smile at him. He has to temper the intensity of his grin when you take the time to compliment him on how cool his shirt is, or how nice his hair looks today, or how smart he is, like he doesn’t want you to know how good it makes him feel even if you want him to feel good about it, around you, because of you. Sometimes he denies it for the sake of responding, and his voice always lilts on the first syllable in his refusal to accept what you say, even though he knows you won’t take it for an answer.
And after a couple more careful experiments, you notice that Mark, out of the many things he’s interested in, seems to have a particular thing for your stomach.
You don’t know if it has anything to do with him not really seeing much of it in real life in his own time or if he just has his own kind of fixation on it, but you start to cotton on by the fourth time you meet. An hour of being hunched over a table that’s not at the greatest height in relation to your neck and torso has you stiff, and you’d leaned back in your chair, arms pulling to the air, hoping your spine might feel like realigning if you exerted enough tension pressure that way. Your shirt hadn’t ridden up this time, considering it had been tucked into your jeans, and it was because of this that you’d caught a flicker of something new in his face that you hadn’t seen before.
You could have sworn it looked like disappointment.
Of course, he hides it quickly, as he does with most of his emotional candor, but it’s enough to make you suspicious — enough to make you wonder if Mark is also just keeping something to himself. Or maybe you’re just projecting your own presently secretive nature onto him. Regardless, you think it’s odd that whenever you stand up or stretch, his eyes almost immediately fall to your midriff, like he wants to challenge your clothing into a staring contest before he thinks better of it.
You don’t mind, anyway. He can look as much as he likes. Maybe when the weather’s warmer, you’ll even cater to that interest and wear a crop top. Hopefully, that’ll be the push he needs to act on human instinct and ask you out or, like… bend you over. Maybe.
You’re often plagued with these kinds of thoughts in between the ones you try to keep as family-friendly as possible — now, more so than ever.
Sometimes, it’s easier, especially when you’re caught up in talks with him; despite the fact that he doesn’t seem like much of a conversationalist when it comes to generic matters, when either he or you are enthusiastic about a particular topic, he has a tendency to get carried away. There’s nothing impure about how his eyes light up when you remember to ask him about the movie he saw with his friends over the weekend or the way he hums old Nickelodeon cartoon theme songs under his breath whenever he’s looking for a page in the textbook. It’s more of a situation where you’ll observe something and immediately run with it despite it being an objectively normal action.
Like right now, as you’re watching him turn his pen between his fingers. Now, while he’s shaking his knee in mild impatience, as if he’s trying to will the answer to the worksheets you’ve both been trying to get through for the better part of the day faster. You’d made copies of the problems your professors had assigned and exchanged them under the premise of being able to practice more intensely.
However, whereas Mark is actually focused on solving, you’re just watching him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if he’s ever been told that his fingers are fuck-worthy on a singular, unique level or if it’d feel good for you to ride the thigh he’s currently moving, jeans and all. You consider the feeling of his warm palms on your bare waist as you do it, and you end up wondering if that’s what crosses his mind whenever he sneaks glances at you, too.
You’d know the answer to all those things if he’d fucking ask you out. Maybe you could do it after all. Maybe you should, instead of relying on slowly increasing the probability over such a long period of time. Maybe if you asked nicely, Mark might pull the shades down on the storefront windows and rail you against the glass.
You’re so lost in thought that it genuinely startles you when he plops his textbook over the worksheet, rattling your eraser dangerously close to the edge of the table. You’re still clutching your heart while he rubs his eyes a little too violently.
“Can’t,” he groans, and his neck gives into the weight of his head, allowing it to loll backward. “I feel like the numbers are just melting into each other. I swear, I thought I could read words out of them.”
“Maybe we were a little too ambitious with the double worksheet agenda,” you admit, even though you’ve barely gotten past half of yours and certainly haven’t touched a single item on his. “Should we call it a day for now?”
“Yeah,” he agrees, although he still takes the time to encircle his final answers before clapping his palms to his cheeks (an act that has your mind dangerously close to wandering off inappropriately again) to wake himself up. “Woah. I didn’t even notice how dark it is already. I’d say time flies when you’re having fun, but I’m not too sure about the ‘fun’ part of it…”
You trace his gaze towards the glass; the moon’s already out, surrounded by a smattering of low-light stars. You hadn’t realized how late it had gotten, probably because your mind had been on R-18 mode for most of the afternoon. Also, the days are getting generally shorter, but that fact doesn’t make you feel as embarrassed, at least.
“You got a ride?”
The question once again shocks you out of your small trance, and you turn back to him with wide eyes. “Well — no. Wait, I didn’t know you had a car. Why’d you take the subway, then?”
“Oh — no, sorry, I… don’t.” He looks suddenly sheepish, eyes dropping to the shiny surface of the table for a moment before they snap back up, as if he’s actually actively reminding himself to look at you. “I was wondering if you wanted me to — actually, more than that, are you going home already? Not that you need to stay; it’s not that important, but…”
You try to gloss over the fact that he had just been about to initiate another huge step in the right direction (i.e. offering to walk you home) by beaming at him, maybe a little too widely, if only to mask your disappointment at the sudden shift in conversation. “I have nothing waiting at home for me but a sandwich dinner and Singles Inferno, so hit me with whatever it is.”
“Oh, cool.” His lips turn up, and the corners shake, this show of happiness once again tamped down by his own inexplicable desire to maintain a safe distance. How are you supposed to tell him you’re desperate to bridge that gap without using those exact words? “I came from the flagship store yesterday — the one in Hongdae that I told you about?” He allows the smile to widen slightly when you nod in genuine understanding. “Got the last six boxes of the collection I’ve been trying to finish.”
You whistle appreciatively. “Can I ask you for a loan on my next phone bill? You know, once I’ve upgraded to something pricier.”
“Nah — just itching to complete the set,” he laughs. You wonder if he’s been doing that more often because he knows its crippling effect on you, though you doubt he’s that sly. Again, maybe you’re just projecting too much of your own motivations onto him. “This was probably about two months of saving up combined.”
“No new Iron Man issues to look out for, then?” Your voice is warm even though it takes on a teasing tone; Mark’s hand rubs the back of his neck, and his expression is a little sheepish, but you’re happy that the times he used to go completely quiet, opting only to blush at your attempts to act more familiar with him are pretty much gone now.
“Maybe next month.” You also like that he doesn’t really treat his hobbies as secrets, neither out of shame nor snobbishness. He explains these things to you the same way he does the topics you study — with an air of contentedness, like he’s happy someone listens to him without interrupting. On your end, you have no qualms with listening to his voice for hours, wondering when he’ll stop using it to greet you when you come through the door and when he’ll start saying your name in a way that makes you feel like you’re the only one he sees whenever you’re near. It’s a win-win situation (sort of). “I was actually debating between this collection and a really rare copy of Spi— well, never mind that. I just thought — since you were asking me a bit about blind boxes last time. You know, if you wanted to. With… me.”
As much as he’s become comfortable talking to you about things that don’t involve coffee orders and school, you can’t say that you aren’t doing your fair share of the work in connecting the dots; the demand for your efforts is exponentially higher in moments like this, when you think he’s trying to ask you something but can’t seem to find less-than-eager words to avoid what he thinks might spook you.
Luckily, he augments his fragments with action; reaching into his backpack — which you notice seems to be bulkier than usual — he starts extracting small brown boxes, all with the same design; it seems, for lack of better words, aesthetically gothic, and you reach out to pick one up, turning it over and examining the print on each side with vague interest. Mark starts laying them out on top of each other until there’s a small, somewhat unstable pyramid in front of him, then shifts his attention fully to you, just as you’re putting the box in your hand atop all the rest.
“I’d love to.” You beam as he does, and there’s a wondrous relief in his eyes that tells you he’s glad you manage to catch onto his words — or lack, thereof — surprisingly well. “For as long as you don’t blame me for any bad draws.”
“The contents have already been decided by my own hand — sort of,” he chuckles. “Point is, I would never do that to you. But I won’t lie; I kind of want to rely on your luck a little more.”
“What makes you think I’d have any of that running through my system?”
“Not sure — beginner’s luck, maybe? You just kind of look like one of those kinds of people to me — like… you’re just made of good things.”
You don’t know how to take this compliment; on the one hand, it’s easily one of the sweetest things Mark has ever said to you that doesn’t involve anything with actual sugar content. On the other, you know you’re not as lucky as he makes it sound, considering you’re still striking out on getting past the borderline of friendship with him. All you can do is smile, nodding and making to move closer to him by sliding into the next seat.
It’s hard to ignore the sight of him stiffening; something like surprise mingled with both fear and interest flashes strong across his face, but you don’t do anything to acknowledge the slight change in atmosphere, choosing to settle down comfortably and clap your hands. “So. What are the rules? What can I do, and what can’t I?”
“Uh.” His throat constricts at the right moment, the syllable getting caught and causing him to clear his throat. You know that this is the nearest you’ve ever been to him, the sleeve of your shirt tickling his arm. Upon closer, albeit brief inspection, you note that he’s also rather veiny. That doesn’t do your impurity any favors. “Not… really rules, or anything like that. Just — these are the ones I’ve been looking for. Not that you can really control it, but in case you were curious about that.”
You squint intently at the scaled-down images he points out. There’s one that looks like a penguin caught in an oil spill; another that seems to be in a polar bear costume, dozing; and — “What’s… halo? Halo…bios?”
“It just means marine life,” he answers quickly, like the thought means close to nothing to him to know something that obscure. Whoever said that smart is the new sexy wasn’t joking. “Like… all things that live in the ocean, that kind of thing.”
“And you know this because?”
He pauses, looking thoughtful. “I’m not sure. I guess I must have just learned it when I was curious about what it meant some time ago. Isn’t that how we all learn things?”
You shake your head incredulously, and he smiles a little apologetically. “You never cease to amaze me.” Your nail drums against the silhouette of one with a question mark on it. “What’s this supposed to be? Can you draw your own figurine, or something?”
“No.” He’s clearly amused, but his expression’s still patronizing enough for you to not feel too bad about saying something idiotic. “It’s a secret design — a money drainer, basically. You could buy a full set of this and still not get it. Some people will open hundreds without any luck, so it’s really rare.”
“You don’t want it?”
“I try not to get too caught up in the secret thing,” he admits. “Otherwise…”
“No rare print comic books for the rest of your life, basically?”
He taps his nose, and you both share another laugh. It’s nice, you think, to have come this far — to be someone Mark can share his interests and thoughts with. You may have been stretching the word to its limit when you first punched your way into his social life and called yourself his friend, but it feels more real now, more natural to think about and say. Even if he still sometimes seems to be hyperaware of the gap between the both of you, there’s no denying, at least, that it’s been significantly reduced, and this much is a testament to that.
“Well, leave it up to me. I’ll let all of this beginner’s luck rub off on you,” you announce with overflowing albeit unfounded confidence.
You both decide to open a box each at the same time; Mark suddenly panics and asks you not to unseal the foil bag right away without looking at the card inside first, earning him one slightly alarmed look followed by a burst of laughter at his pained expression when you pretend to rip open the packaging. Comparing pulls, you identify them using the set chart — your luck doesn’t seem to be operating at full capacity yet because you can only offer him the card of one that looks like a floppy pigeon, which he responds to with a slightly apologetic grimace before saying he’s already pulled that thrice in the past. He, on the other hand, is turning the card of the polar bear over in his palm, trying not to make you feel bad for your duplicate pull by slipping it under his textbook when your eyes land on it.
The second round isn’t much better; both of you manage to pull something he’s already added to his collection, and as you’re ripping the seal to your third box, he pauses and watches you. You think it’s because he’s concerned about the obvious shit luck you’ve had thus far and wants to snatch it from you before your negative energy transfigures whatever’s inside into something he doesn’t want, and you’re just about to offer the half-opened package to him before he pushes the one on his end to you.
“No way, Mark.” Your eyes are wide, a palm up to reject it. “If that turns out to be another dupe by my hand, I’m literally going to walk into oncoming traffic.”
He has to control his amusement at your words so that it doesn’t completely shake his voice into incoherence. “I picked all of these while I was there, so if anything, you’re only riding off my bad luck. Besides, this is your first time doing this. I want you to have fun.”
“But,” your voice is pained. “Your money.”
“It’s not a big deal. With how few I need to complete them, I was definitely bound to run into more repeats than new ones.” He taps the front of the textbook — or, at least, the part of it not buried under the figurines and sealing tapes yet. “Probability mathematics.”
“I thought we already ended the study part of the day,” you grumble but concede, putting aside the one you half-opened to tear the top of his. You’re careful when you shake out the foil packaging, making sure to place it upright on the table before extracting the card. Both of your faces fall — yours more than his — when you see it’s a repeat of the polar bear.
“Almost. It would’ve been a pretty lucky pull earlier, so it’s technically not bad,” he tries to reassure you, but you childishly feel like you’ve been the sole source of his disappointment thus far. “Try the last one.”
It’s irrational, but you’re suddenly anxious about it. For some reason, you’re worried that this will topple the carefully constructed ladder you’ve propped up against Mark’s tower of social defense. Even if he’s being genial about your rotten pulls, you don’t know how much of it is just resignation to dismay on his part.
You say a small prayer, then fully rip off the seal; you don’t even take out the packaged figuring anymore. You just shimmy the card out of the box, turning it over when you notice it’s upside down.
For a moment, your shoulders deflate. It’s closest to this pastel purple figurine in the middle of the line-up, its stupid puckered lips almost taunting you. He hadn’t even mentioned it as something he’s looking for, so you almost feel like this has come to a horrible full circle. But then he grabs the box, checks the list, and looks back at your card again. He looks shell-shocked, and you’re not sure if it’s the strong air conditioning directed towards the two of you or if it’s just his hands, but the image he’s holding is shivering slightly.
You look more closely at it, and something just doesn’t feel right. Color palette aside, there are notable differences — different colored lips, a more intricate ear design, and closed eyes. It’s…
“Dream eater,” Mark’s voice is hushed, almost reverent, and very, very close to your ear. “It’s the secret one. You’re… incredible.”
“What are you talking about,” your words are just as raspy; you’re not sure if you’re actually choked up with emotion or something — over a figurine, you have to remind yourself. “You picked all of this. I just ripped open the box.”
The hush that falls over the both of you feels very concrete, weighty on your shoulders. His fingers creep towards the foil packet — the only one he actually opens because there’s no way he’s not keeping it. The shiny purple head gleams under the fluorescent, the glitter around the star and moon designs catching the light as he turns it left to right, like he’s worried it’s a fake. You can tell why people want these things so much; there’s a thrill in you that lingers, makes you feel warm and alert. It’s anticipation, despair, excitement, and triumph all in one sitting.
You’re stroking the smooth curve of the design by the ears lightly when Mark speaks up again and says the most outrageous thing.
“I want you to have it.”
“What?” You actually have to pop your ear canal in front of him with your pinky to make sure he knows how ludicrous he sounds. “This is… you said it was crazy rare.”
“Yeah. And you pulled it, with your magic. That’s like… unimaginable luck. Even more than beginner’s luck.”
“Like I said, I literally just opened the box.”
“No — you have like… the golden touch.”
“Please,” you hiss, a genuine testiness to your voice. “Do not. I was just here for the ride — the experience, and all.”
“Seriously, take it.”
“Absolutely not—”
It’s a chaotic moment of him trying to hand you the figurine and you outright rejecting it, with both your palms working hard to push it back to him. Instead of nudging the plastic back, though, you end up placing the full force of your hands against his fingers.
There’s no actual spark when you touch, but your reactions make it feel like there might as well have been; you even lock eyes in startled unison, like you can’t believe that just happened, before you pull away quickly, Mark drawing the figuring back to his torso while looking away towards the counter, where a lowerclassman is wiping down the stains. You want to scream at your warped reflection in the window. You barely initiate contact with him, but you imagine that if you ever did, you would prefer to not be saying something as abjectly negative as absolutely not while doing so.
Your mind flails in an attempt to mitigate the issue and water down the embarrassment, and clearly he’s struggling to figure it out too, because he pipes up before you can piece your thoughts together.
“No, really.” His tone is a lot milder and, consequently, a lot more persuasive this way. “You should take it. I want you to.”
“It’s not mine. This is your thing — your hobby.”
“That’s why I’m giving it to you. I swear — I want you to keep it.”
“Why?”
He lapses into silence again, but his face is much redder than earlier. His mouth opens in an attempt to say something, but he just manages to uh his way back into a state of quiet, which gives you a chance to speak instead.
“We can… share it,” you suggest. “Shared custody…. ish.”
His eyebrow cocks involuntarily, and his jaw falls again, but all he does in actual response is nod — slowly at first, then with more sureness to the act.
“Yeah. We can share it. I’d… like that.”
You’re glad that the bulk of the awkwardness has fizzled out fairly easily, and when you think about it, this feels like a pretty good course of action; you like that it’s this little link between the two of you now — something you share that no one else can touch.
Mark, you notice, is smiling as well — more to himself than towards you, it seems. His thumb grazes across the face of the figurine, slow across the lips, and you’re once again falling into a pit of nonsense by wondering when he’d do that to you.
“Thanks for staying with me, _________,” he finally says, and your heart jolts and melts all at once. “And for… doing this. For chatting with me. And giving me your luck, and all that. Great way to end the day… with you.”
You say no problem, but you instantly regret it when you realize you could have just said it didn’t have to end just yet.
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“__________? Hello? Come back down to Earth?”
“Shut up,” you sigh at the guy seated across you — Seo Youngho, an upperclassman, your Gender Studies classmate, and current project partner, waves in front of your face. You shoo his hand away, which only joins his other one as he throws them in defeat above his head. “Stop moving. Be quiet. Don’t talk.”
“That’s the same thing as shut up and be quiet. What’s up with you?” He demands. “Fifteen minutes ago, you were full of ideas. Now I feel like I’m talking to a wax figure.”
You’d been engrossed in your report for the last hour and a half, and the subject matter is admittedly something you enjoy — the role of gender in Twenty-First Century Korean marketing and advertisement, a title Youngho had taken more than ten minutes to type into the Google Docs header because he was pissed off at how the numbers looked like in the fonts he chose. He’s an enthusiastic classmate and someone you’ve come to be friendly with, not only because he’s genuinely approachable but also because he has fits of nosiness and talkativeness at the strangest moments, so a chunk of your relationship is mostly based on social terrorism on his part. You like him well enough most of the time — save for the last fifteen minutes of this hour.
Because Mark had just come in for his shift fifteen minutes ago, and suddenly Youngho is much too noisy for your taste, and his head is honestly way too big to the point that it gets in the way of your opportunities to see Mark behind the counter. You even resent him for choosing a booth instead of your usual table all of a sudden, because your view of the central barista’s area is much more limited from this angle, especially since the huge espresso machine is in the of your field of vision.
You’re also (currently and abruptly) mad at Youngho because you remember that he’s the reason you’ve had to skip out on a couple of sessions with Mark. Like, it technically isn’t his fault that you have a lot of research to do for the literature review section of the paper, nor is it his fault that this is your final requirement that comprises a whopping forty percent of your grade, but like… you’ll blame him anyway. So you’re much more irritable, and you’ve definitely been missing Mark’s presence. In fact, you kind of just want to shove Youngho’s balloon head away and call Mark over to sit with you, but you’re not that much of an animal to actually do that.
Probably.
There had been inquisitiveness across Mark’s face when he’d come in; his eyes had trailed to the table at which you usually sat, surprised to find two guys hunched over a single phone there instead of the usual you, waiting for him with your eyes bright and your smile wide. You’d like to think it’s because he’s gotten as used to seeing you as you’re used to waiting to see him — like he just expects you to be there.
You hadn’t really known how to call his attention to where you were, especially since Youngho was prattling very matter-of-factly about the academic journal he’d unearthed yesterday and how he thought it would be useful in reshaping the methodology of your paper (whatever). There was a moment in which you briefly considered ordering another cup of coffee just to get in line to talk to him, but your hands were already shaking from the venti you’d had to keep yourself from passing out in front of your partner.
So you’re more than relieved when, half an hour into his shift, Mark finally steps out from behind the huge machine, a mug of water for himself in hand, and turns away from the front of the store to drink it — only for your eyes to lock as he twists his torso in your general direction.
The mug stops just inches from his lips, but you could swear he smiles at you briefly when he recognizes you, so you return the favor. Youngho’s face contorts into abject befuddlement, turning around to see what you’re grinning at.
“Oh, you poor sap,” he snorts, finally letting the puzzle pieces fall into place.
“What?” You’re still distracted even if Mark has taken a gulp of water and is now attending to a gaggle of girls still in the throes of discussing what to order.
“What what? You gonna spend the rest of the day eyefucking Mark Lee from over here? At least let me get a different table.”
“Shut up,” you repeat sullenly, coming back down to his level and finally — albeit reluctantly — meeting his eye (just because Mark isn’t looking your way). “What were you saying about the sample size?”
“That it’s much too large to be feasible, a point we closed twenty fucking minutes ago,” he says pointedly. “Is it a thing for baristas or a thing for smart guys?”
“It’s a thing for Mark Lee,” you sigh, following Youngho’s suit and shutting your laptop close. You’re at least glad he’s not annoyed that you’re delaying work for a crush, or maybe he’s also just equally lazy at this point. “You ever look at someone and think you would give it all up for a chance to hit that?”
“No, because this isn’t a porn movie, and I’m clearly not the main character in whatever’s going on in there.” He jabs at your forehead; you swat his hand away again.
“Well, I would.”
He rolls his eyes. “So do it, dumbass.” He says this so simply, like he can’t imagine why you’d be holding yourself back, which is a valid thing to feel, except it’s not really any of his business.
“Can’t.”
“Because?”
“Because it doesn’t fit into my elegant master plan. Also because I want him to ask me out. I just want that victory.”
“Oh yeah, there it is.” Youngho leans over, wiggling his fingers at your ears like he’s greeting a next-door neighbor. “Hey, delusion. Good to see you. Do you even understand how crazy it is that you’re taking a Gender Studies class while waiting for your dick-in-shining-armor like a damsel in distress?”
“Asshole,” you grumble, violently opening your laptop monitor again. “Get back on Google Drive.”
Thankfully, Youngho complies, and the next two hours pass in relative silence and productivity, with you hammering out a vague references list that he promises to format in your stead so you can ‘spend more time dreaming about Mark Lee between your legs.’ You want to strangle him, but there are far too many people in the cafe for you to get away with it. Also, aforementioned Mark Lee would only be a witness to your criminal record, and while you think there’s something romantic in killing for love, or whatever, you’re not sure it’d make the best impression on him.
“Next week’s my birthday,” Youngho announces as he stands to tug on his jacket.
“Congratulations,” you say wryly, peeking over his bulletin board torso to see Mark tugging off his apron and picking up his school bag. Your heart hammers in your chest as he looks over at you briefly, and something like embarrassment passes over his face before he busies himself with neatly folding the fabric. “Go away.”
“Usually people look uncomfortable for not knowing and then start thinking about what gifts to get the celebrant, but I always felt you were kind of a revolutionary.” He snaps his fingers right in front of your eyes, and you look up at him, a little offended. “I’m having a get-together — and by get-together, I mean it’s gonna be a rager. You should come.”
“When?”
“Next Thursday.”
“Can’t,” you chew on your lip, wondering if Mark is leaving. His movements seem particularly slow, but you wonder if he’s just taking his sweet time because he has nothing better to do. Of course, he would have something better to do if Youngho stopped fucking obscuring you from him and vice versa. “Busy. School… whatever.” Not completely untrue. Most of what you do with Mark has to do with school.
“This moony-eyed thing is just not for you, I fear.”
“Are you going to be here all day?”
“Are you? Why don’t you just fucking ask him out, you lunatic?” You can’t imagine why he sounds so exasperated. It’s not like this is his problem — or his business, for that matter. “Maybe if you did, you could fuck him and move on with your life and be an actual contributor to society’s development.”
“Has anyone ever told you how nosy you are?”
“Constantly.” He brings his palms down on the table, the thud shaking you out of another oncoming stupor. “Think about it. Maybe it’ll make you stop making that stupid face.”
“You’ve got a stupid face,” you mumble, sulking as he pinches your cheek as a goodbye before heading out of the shop.
At least you finally get to see Mark in full, glorious view — and you get to watch him come closer, although his stride is somewhat cautious.
“Hey.” Even his voice sounds unsure — almost like the way he used to sound earlier in your friendship. “I didn’t want to interrupt you and… your friend?”
“Oh. Well, you wouldn’t have been interrupting,” you inform him, completely genuine. “He was spouting a lot of nonsense.”
“You guys seemed pretty close.”
“I guess it’s a proximity thing,” you sigh, and Mark raises his eyebrows slightly in question. “We’re partners.”
“Oh.” The way he draws out the syllable is slow. “That definitely makes sense.”
The silence stretches out between the two of you again, with Mark checking his shoelaces. You almost grab your head; it hadn’t occurred to you until now how damaging missing meetings with him would be to your friendship. You feel like you’re slowly being dragged back to square one, and you want to give him an explanation.
“He’s actually… I haven’t been able to see you because I’ve been working on something with him.” you offer, trying to answer a question he didn’t even ask. “Sorry about that. I swear I’ll be back on track tomorrow.”
“No, no — I completely understand.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Thank you… for telling me, though. I— uh, appreciate that.”
“I’d love to see you tomorrow, though.” You try injecting more pep into your voice. “I’ve really been behind on my algebra. I’ve definitely been drowning without you.”
“Oh, yeah.” A small smile graces his lips, but you can’t tell if the reluctance behind it is from fatigue or something that looks oddly like sadness. “I’m down for tomorrow. Same time, same table, right?”
“Yeah, for sure.”
“Cool. See you, _________.”
You watch him turn on his heel, walking to the front door, and something like fear mingled with desperation clutches your heart. Fuck the traditional route, you think. You don’t know what it is about how he’s acting now, but it’s making you feel like he’s slipping through your fingers. All that hard work — there’s no way you’re letting him go.
“Mark, wait.”
You’re at his side, fingers curled into the sleeve of his jacket before you can figure out exactly what you want to say. You feel as surprised as he looks at your sudden liveliness in action, and his gaze trails from your clenched fist to your face slowly, like he’s trying to memorize this whole position.
Your exhale’s shaky, but even still, you try not to sound overtly self-conscious when you ask, “Do you like Chinese food?”
Something in the furrowing of his brows tells you he can’t seem to see where this conversation is headed, and that slightly bothers him. “I like it well enough. Why?”
“There’s this really good dim sum buffet near my mom’s office. We tried it before — the Xiaolongbao is awesome.”
“Hey, that sounds pretty cool. I love Xiaolongbao. I’ll definitely have to check it out then.”
You want to tear your hair out. “How about — you know, checking it out with me? Tonight? You know… together. With me.” You already fucking said that.
You’ve never seen Mark blink this rapidly; he looks like he’s trying to crunch large numbers in his head. A small part of you actually worries that he’s malfunctioning, but just when you think he’s going to glitch out completely, he clears his throat. It bothers you how uncomfortable he looks. “Tonight? Oh man… it’s my cousin’s birthday tonight. I can’t… reschedule. Well, obviously. Maybe some other… time?”
Your ‘oh, yeah’ is small, and so is the ghost of Mark’s smile. You can’t help but feel like he’s pitying you a little, although he doesn’t seem like the type, but the thought of it alone makes you want to puke. He makes no motion to move, and you think he’s extending this awkward moment out on purpose until you realize you’re still hanging onto him and he has no way of telling you to let go nicely.
Fingers unfurling from his sleeve, you take a careful step back, but when he walks away, it feels like you’ve gone much, much further away.
The worst part is that you can’t even figure out why.
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Luckily, the next few times you see Mark, you manage to rebuild a rather shaky bridge back to where you had been. You even manage to strong-arm him into sharing an apple fritter one afternoon, and you know it’s a bit sad to think about it a particular, untrue way, but you can’t help but pattern what you’re doing into some kind of pseudo-date. Pathetic isn’t a word you normally associate yourself with, but you’ve been borderline desperate for progress where there seems to be none, so you take small victories where you can get them.
Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to revisit your stupid dim sum plan; sometimes, he says he has somewhere important to be, but most of the time, it’s actually your fault. No — it’s Youngho’s fault, because he keeps bothering you to finish the project. You’re aware that he can’t do it himself, but since he’s informed of your current plight, he could at least stand to be more sympathetic.
And you hate the way Mark looks every time you splutter out that you have to take a rain check for that reason; it’s not even disappointment, or something, which would be much more understandable. It’s this mysterious kind of faraway look, where his eyes glaze over a bit and he seems suddenly very lost in thought — or completely dissociated. He never strays away from his normal response of “next time, then,” but that ‘next time’ fades into the weekend and into the start of next week, and you have to spend every other evening with an annoying Seo fucking Youngho on a Google Meets call instead of eating soup dumplings loveshot style with Mark Lee.
Thursday night rolls around, and the former performs the most irritating stunt yet: blowing up your phone with so many KakaoTalk messages that it almost buzzes off the table during your session with Mark. Luckily, he seems to have learned a thing or two from his comic books, catching it before it hits the floor.
“You sure you don’t want to answer it?” He asks, gingerly handing the phone to you like he’s afraid it’s going to explode from all the pinging.
“Without the shadow of a doubt,” you sigh, flipping the screen downwards. Buzz.
“It kind of seems important. Or, like… urgent.”
“He’ll live. Unfortunately.”
Mark falls silent, fiddling with the page he’s on. He’s neatly highlighted the formulas on the page with blue ink, and his finger keeps scratching at the slightly wet paper. Buzz.
“Didn’t you say you two were partners?”
“Yes. Also unfortunately.” Youngho is actually a great person, but you kind of hate how Mark’s paying more attention to his texts than to you right now. “What did you get for number ten?” Buzz.
“A hundred and twe— are you really just going to let it keep ringing like that? What if he’s… I don’t know. In trouble? Like, he needs you?”
You smack your phone on its back, hoping that the punishment reaches Youngho because he absolutely is in trouble — only with you. “He’s just making a racket because it’s his birthday and he probably wants a bunch of people to trash his parents’ house, or something.”
“Sounds like fun.” The dubious tone in Mark’s voice indicates that his idea of fun definitely isn’t that. Buzz.
“Not really, but I assume he’ll only pipe down if he manages to get his way.”
“He must really want you there.”
There it is again — that weird, distant expression that makes you feel like he’s trying to free himself from the tethers of the earth. You close your textbook in defeat; it wasn’t even like you got the answer to number ten correct anyway. Buzz.
“He just wants everyone there, I bet. But I probably should show up so he shuts up.”
“Oh — yeah, okay. We’ll call it a day, then?” He’s avoiding your eye as he starts packing his things, which is actually impressive because you have practically nothing but your book to keep in comparison to his pencils and protractor, so you just stare, willing him to look at you.
You want to know what’s going on in his head. You want to know what’s going on in his heart — what he thinks of you, why he seems warm one second then almost like a stranger the next. You want to know if he knows you like him and if him not doing anything even if he knows is a sign that he doesn’t like you back. You want to know if he’d let you kiss him, if he’d kiss you first, if you can meet not because of sweet cream cold brews or algebra but because you just want to be together.
You just don’t know how to ask. For as much as you like him, for as much as you want him, you haven’t figured out the most basic part of this — if you mean anything more than a two hour talk to him at all.
“Mark.” This feels awfully like the dim sum conversation, only somehow ten times more disastrous. “Come with me.”
“Sorry?” The appalled look on his face makes you squirm in your seat.
“I don’t really want to go, but maybe if we go together… we can just hang out a bit and leave once it’s boring… I think it’d be fun,” you explain lamely, deciding at the last second to drop the with you that had originally come with your sentiment.
“I don’t think your… partner will like someone uninvited showing up.”
“I’m inviting you.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
“You’d be, like, my saving grace or something — my excuse to scram. We’ll say we came right from a study session; we only popped in halfway through for the sake of greeting him a happy birthday. Then we can just go. We can say — uh, we’ve got more work to do.” You’re practically begging him at this point, and you don’t even get why. You just don’t want him to leave looking the way he does — confused and a little detached. You want the Mark that had smiled at you while giving you your coffee — the one that had kindly pointed out an arithmetic mistake in the most gentle way possible. You want to open blind boxes with him, whine about your rotten luck, and part ways with his warmth still against your coat sleeve.
You don’t know what comes over you then, but you pluck up the courage and initiative to slip your hand in his. He stiffens a little, but you don’t care; your fingers squeeze his in urging.
Something in his expression breaks — cracks first, then falls away, before he’s nodding, still looking vaguely thoughtful.
“If you think it’ll help you, then… okay.”
The bus ride to Youngho’s neighborhood is uneventful because it’s quiet. You stand close to Mark at all times, but you barely touch, save for the times your knuckles accidentally brush his when you lurch forward slightly as the vehicle comes to a dangerously abrupt stop. He doesn’t ask anything about the party or the company that’ll populate it, which is just as well, because you don’t have a clue.
You know it’s the right house because the door’s wide open and there’s music coming from inside; you can’t make out much more than the deep bass pumping through the concrete, but you’re pretty sure it’s making your heart jump in your chest even more than it already is. There are quite a few people you vaguely recognize on the lawn, and even more that you absolutely don’t; a good number of them glance at you and Mark as you step through the threshold then look away, probably deciding you’re of no real consequence or harm to their moods.
Youngho’s easily spottable because of his massive height; he towers over the rest of his guests, and the red plastic cup in his hand calls even more attention because he’s lifted it over everyone else’s heads. You throw Mark an apologetic glance that he responds to with a short nod before you dive into the crowd alone, trying to weave your way to where you’d last seen Youngho.
“Bro, finally!” Youngho greets you, pretty much shouting over the music. “Where’s the gift? Did you leave it on the table?”
“Happy birthday, Youngho. Do you know how close you were to being blocked?”
“I see you brought mister espresso with you,” he ignores your comment completely, nodding to Mark. When you turn back to see him, you notice he’s squishing his arms closer to his sides, trying to minimize the space he takes up. “So what? Y’all get to hook up already?”
“No. I brought him here because we were in the middle of something and someone,” you stop, offering him a pointed look that’s also ignored. “Wouldn’t stop texting.”
“Cockblock,” the guy next to Youngho, who you now realize has been eavesdropping, singsongs. “Oh, sorry. You looked angry when you stomped through the crowd, so I wanted the juicy details. Name’s Jaehyun.”
You take the hand he offers you briefly, introducing yourself. When you say your name, realization dawns on his face, and he jabs his forefinger at you.
“Oh, dude. You’re that girl — the Starbucks Showstopper.”
“The what?”
“That’s what his friends call you.” He scratches his ear, seemingly racking his brain for more information. “I’m with Mark and a couple of his friends — Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin — in College Algebra.”
You completely gloss over the fact that you’ve finally found out the real government identity of the mysterious figure named ‘Hyuck.’ “They… talk about me?”
“From time to time. Not really. Once or twice. Donghyuck only calls you that because Mark apparently keeps blowing them off to hang out with you.”
“How do you know this?”
“I have ears. It’s not hard when they talk like no one’s around.”
You shush Youngho’s exclamation of and you’re saying I’m nosy?, your heart hammering hard in your ears, practically drowning out the music. “What… what else did they talk about?”
“Not sure. Something about not seeing you that often these days. Jaemin teasing Mark about getting dropped now that you don’t need his help anymore. Donghyuck piling on and saying you’ve got a boyfriend.”
“What?”
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Jaehyun still inches away from you when your voice rises in pitch and decibel. Some people around you start, then move away as well, as if scared you’re going to incinerate them. “They were just teasing him that you probably ditched him after you started dating someone. Your partner in some project, or what.”
“Oh gross.” The realization hits you like a speeding truck. Youngho’s expression is affronted.
“First of all, you bitch. Second of all, as if I would date someone who didn’t even buy me a gift. Or want to come. Or yelled at me after coming. Wow — now that I think about it, you’re terrible, _________.”
“Oh, shit; that someone was you?” The only person that isn’t tense in this conversation is Jaehyun, who laughs point blank at Youngho’s sour face. “I think they were offering to put you into one of their Death Note notebooks. Sucks for you, hotshot.”
“What a smudge on my good name,” Youngho sighs mournfully. “On my special day, too.”
“I desperately need you two to be quiet for one second. I have to — where’s Mark?”
Even when you stand on your tiptoes, you’re not nearly as tall as the two of them; it’s Youngho, with his freakish height, who manages to spot Mark by the bowl of nachos, looking as though he’s trying to decide if they’re safe for consumption. You hardly excuse yourself; actually, all you say is a distracted “later” that dismisses Jaehyun’s cooing that something’s going down and you should clue him into all the mess later as a thank you. Your appreciation of his sudden and somewhat short-lived presence in your life is still up in the air.
Mark’s busy making a sour face at the sip of punch he’d just taken; he only straightens up when you’re right in front of him, putting his cup down next to the nachos. “Hey. Did you get to find… um…”
“That’s not important.” Your hand bunches the fabric of his jacket in a death grip, something he barely has time to register, let alone question, before you’re tugging him through the throng of people. You want somewhere quiet, somewhere private, and you initially consider the lawn, except you know it’s strewn with cups and has stragglers debating whether to go home or not. You can’t risk any of them being expert eavesdroppers like Jaehyun, so you make a beeline for the stairs instead.
“We’re not leaving yet?” He has to shout over the music, but there’s no resistance in his stride; he follows you up and waits patiently, although a little perplexed, as you check the doors on the second floor. Two are locked, one is a bathroom, and the other is a messy, musk aftershave-scented place you can only presume is Youngho’s room. Talking in front of a sink and a toilet doesn’t feel like it’ll be very productive, so you just drag Mark into the bedroom, kicking aside the crumpled shirt on the floor — which you could’ve sworn you’d seen Youngho wear for class yesterday. “_________, what’s going on?”
“Mark Lee,” you burst out, ignoring the fact that his eyes widen slightly at your tone. “What’s your fucking deal?”
You don’t think you’ve ever sworn in front of him before; that much is evident when he continues to gawk silently, unable to find words to respond to your question. Or maybe it’s just the volume and force with which you demand an answer. The problem is that you don’t even know what kind of reply you want. A small part of you nags that this is uncalled for, especially at this level, with you practically caging him into an unknown room. In fact, even now, you’re still embarrassed at your behavior, wondering if you’ve gone too far and stepped over a line between you.
But the source of all your frustrations is, in fact, that line — one so strangely drawn, clear at some points and almost invisible at others. Sometimes, he seems simply content with the barest minimum of friendship: talking to you, helping you, politely laughing at your (terrible) jokes. But there are also times he blushes too hard for it to not mean anything, times that he makes you feel like you could mean a little something more to him too.
Yet, from there, he wavers, stepping back so as not to get entangled in something you don’t understand — like when he grows distant every time you mention Youngho to him. You don’t understand why he would unless he echoed, even just a little, the longing in you. But you also don’t get why he stays and builds more walls around himself, like he’s determined to ignore all the other signs — like he doesn’t want to know if it’s really true and will just accept the assumption that it is. You hate not knowing where you stand with him, and while you could easily ask, you know you don’t want to.
And for a long time, you’ve convinced yourself that it’s because you want to see Mark step out of his comfort zone and initiate something, but the ugly truth is staring at you: it’s simply just that you can’t stand the idea of seeing him come to the conclusion that you can’t be anything more to him than someone he makes a sweet cream cold brew for every so often.
There’s a moment of tense silence between you two, where you’re just staring at each other — him, perplexed, and you, agitated — and the only sound that passes is the faint but unmistakable voice of Youngho going who has the cake cutting knife? from somewhere down below. You try not to get caught up in the fact that Mark still looks cute when he’s dumbfounded.
“Sorry?”
“What,” you repeat pointedly. “Is your deal? Why have you been acting so weirdly around me these days? I thought — I thought we were… getting closer. I thought… we…”
You’ve confirmed it now; you’re the epitome of cowardliness. You can’t even say I thought we liked each other — because you know that you do, but you still can’t honestly, assuredly tell if he does. Maybe you just read too deeply into the smallest things — smiles before he asks for your order, glances at you when he thinks you’re not looking, sharing the dream eater figurine — to fuel your own emotions without really checking the depth of his.
“I thought we were cool,” you reroute your words, and they come out flat and lame. “But just when I think you’re warming up to me, you suddenly pull away. Like… you’re afraid of me. Or you don’t like me. I don’t know.”
“It’s not — I don’t — I’m not afraid of you,” he stumbles over his words, and even in the darkness of this space, you see his face turn bright red, very quickly. His feet shuffle, not because he’s lost his balance but because he seems to want to get rid of a sudden restlessness. “I do like you. We are — we were getting — we’re close. We — we’re friends. You said that, and we are.”
“Is it only because I say we are that you agree?”
“What? No, I—” His hand passes over his face, slowing at the curve of his chin. “I really like being friends with you. I like being around you.”
“Then why do you act so weird these days? Like — you’ll be fine one moment, then you’ll back off, like you suddenly remembered you don’t want to be around me.”
“It’s not like that. I’m — I don’t get…” He takes a deep inhale, recalibrating himself for a moment before his voice comes out again, less strained this time. “I just don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.”
“How could I?” There’s something more than confusion coloring your voice; there’s hurt, too, and he looks as surprised as you feel at hearing it. “I wanted to be your friend. I was the one that asked you to hang out. I was the one who wanted you to talk to me, to help me, to go to a goddamn dim sum place with me. Why would I feel uncomfortable? Or are you just using this as some roundabout way to say you feel uncomfortable?”
Mark falls silent, and you don’t know why this speaks volumes all of a sudden. His eyes are trained to the tips of his sneakers, which are rising in soft bumps every few seconds; he’s curling his toes inside them. You feel like you’ve gotten the worst answer possible, and something grows cold in your chest.
“You feel uncomfortable around me.” You rehash, but it’s no longer a question. “You don’t know how to get rid of me.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“You think I’m only using you.”
“No.”
“Then what?” Your voice breaks, no longer out of anger, but a desperate sadness. The moment your eyes feel hot and prickly, you decide you want to end the conversation. It’s embarrassing, you think, for someone like Mark Lee — whom you like, who only ever sees you as a friend — to see you get choked up at a fucking birthday party at someone else’s house.
A beat later, you’re mumbling a half-hearted forget it, and you detest overdramatics, but you hate the idea of being in a room with someone who’ll never return your feelings even more right now; you push past him, already on the thought of calling a cab home instead of taking the bus so that no half-drunk businessmen coming from their company dinners see you crying.
But something warm wraps around your wrist, then closes over your hand, and you’re unable to move, Mark’s palm pressed against the back of yours. When you look back, you notice he’s still not looking at you, but his ears are practically on fire with how red they are, and you feel his fingers tighten slightly, tremble slightly against yours.
“It’s not that. I didn’t ever want you to think — I heard about you two. That you were dating someone. Seo Youngho.”
“What does that matter?” Your words come out a little more bitterly than you expect, and you have to remind yourself to reel it in. “That doesn’t explain your discomfort.”
“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he repeats, still evidently careful in choosing his words. “Because you wanted to be friends.”
“I don’t understand,” you state bluntly. In the back of your mind, you note that Mark’s grip keeps tightening and loosening, unsure of whether to keep holding on or let go. But there’s something else, too — the soft graze of skin against yours, his thumb gliding over your knuckles.
“That was all you said you wanted to be, right?” He waits for a response, but when you don’t give him one, he lets out a shaky breath and continues. “You kept saying — we were friends. You wanted us to be close like that. I just wanted to respect it, even if…”
“Respect what?”
“That you didn’t want… anything else.”
The music downstairs is a bit tamer now; you hear the door opening and closing every so often, signaling guests leaving here and there, but there are still enough footsteps downstairs for you to know that there’s a crowd Youngho hasn’t gotten rid of and therefore has to attend to. That much is good; you’d get slapped with a homicide charge if he came up here all of a sudden.
“You were jealous.”
Mark’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I tried to stop. I don’t have a lot of practice with — well, I didn’t know how to approach the situation. I thought I was still acting normally; I didn’t think… I didn’t want you to feel weird and stop hanging out with me just because… I couldn’t fix it.”
“Your friends are assholes,” you mumble, and he finally meets your eye, equal parts startled and amused. “We aren’t. Weren’t. We never were dating.”
“Even without that, I thought… it was a bit embarrassing. Liking someone like you — someone as pretty as you, as nice as you — I thought it would make you feel weird. Then you’d start avoiding me too. Or, worse, you’d keep doing it just because… you… felt bad for me.”
You don’t know what you find more ridiculous — that you hadn’t seen figured it out or that you could have avoided all of this if you’d just been a little more honest with him too. Mark’s hand starts loosening around yours, a little too much, and you turn your palm and grip his hand before he can escape. He stiffens again, just like earlier, but you now understand better why he does.
“I just wanted to keep hanging out with you as much as I could. I thought… It’d be fine, just spending time with you, and I’d be able to like you for a while, on my own, then…” He looks a little pained. “Then just let you go. I’m sorry.”
“Sorry you couldn’t let go?” You sigh softly, your palm guiding his until they connect, face to face, and you can finally lace your fingers into his. There’s no resistance, but his hand trembles slightly in yours still. “If there’s anything you should be apologizing for, it’s that you ever thought of doing it.”
Something clears in the air, lightens in his expression, and he chuckles, albeit a little shyly still. “It’s because I never thought someone like you would like someone like me.”
“I like you.” And it feels right to say it now, not at all out of the blue, never in fear of an answer he’s already given. “I like you when you smile at me every time you ask for my order. I like that you never get impatient when I’m getting my answers wrong. I like seeing you excited when you talk about a new series you’re looking forward to — something new you really want to collect. When you blush, when you laugh loudly, when you spin your pen in your hand — I like you in all those times.”
“Even when I’m jealous?”
“Especially when you are.” Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, and you’re reminded of the fact that you’ve wanted to feel the strength of the angle under your palm for ages now. It’s not at all a disappointment, and your heart flutters irregularly in knowing you could’ve done this a long time ago, but it doesn’t matter because you’re doing it now, and fuck if Mark Lee doesn’t look good this close to you. “So be jealous — because now, you know you can be.”
Kissing him is better than you imagined, and you’ve imagined a little too much to be embarrassed at this point; there’s a heat to his lips that matches the one across his face, an upturn to them that makes you smile too. The setting’s not at all an expected one, but you’ll take it, not because it’s dark or because it’s private but because Mark’s in here with you, and you would have kissed him in a brightly lit football field full of people for as long as he’d let you.
You’d like to think he’s flushed for a reason other than shyness when you pull away, even if his laugh is quiet and breathy. In fact, when you murmur not enough, he’s the one that closes the gap this time, offering freely what you ask for with such little eloquence. The natural trepidation in his mouth relaxes, gives way to a curiosity that keeps you locked for so long that you forget you need to breathe, much more intent on finding out if Mark’s tongue tastes as good as you’ve imagined for so long.
It doesn’t; it tastes even better.
It’s still not enough, not by a long shot, but you have to resurface before you pass out like this, and even he looks a little dazed when you pull away — not in a bad way, with a grin on his face that you can only classify as endearingly goofy: slightly lopsided and a little shy, but with an unmistakable air of satisfaction.
“Months,” he mumbles, his lips still dangerously close to yours. Your eyebrows rise in questioning, and he laughs in that infectious way that makes you want to join in without even knowing what the punchline is. “I’ve been thinking of kissing you for months.”
And you do share the laughter this time, not out of amusement but of a happiness that spills without restraint. “But you’re suddenly holding back now?”
“Just letting myself bask in the moment, I guess. Letting it sink in so I remember everything.”
The two of you stand there quietly, still trying to fully parse the progression of events, and a small part of your mind registers that Mark’s thumb is still drawing circles on your skin. It’s also not enough — this touch, this closeness. You know now that he’s been thinking of you for months, and it reminds you that you spent that time dreaming of him too. And you remember you’ve always wanted to be even more familiar with him, and suddenly the desire is overwhelming; he’s right here, and you don’t ever want him out of your grasp again.
“Where are you going?” He’s only curious for the sake of it; there’s no alarm in the question because you keep your fingers tightly woven in his, tugging him along as you walk past him to the door. He’s still staring in wonder after the lock clicks shut. “What’s… happening now?”
“You waited months to kiss me, right?” He nods in response at your question. “I’ve been waiting just as long to have you too.”
His mouth falls open, but he doesn’t manage to say anything; his jaw tightens just as quickly when he feels your free hand trail down his chest, feather-light and asking for a green light. Your index finger stops just above his navel and draws back slowly, but not before you feel the shiver that runs down his torso.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you murmur, giving his hand a little squeeze. “But I just want you to know — I want to. I want you.”
A thoughtfulness settles on his face, and his eyes graze over yours, trying to read your seriousness. You don’t know how honest you look, but your words hold enough truth in them. A silence stretches over the next minute, but to you, it feels like an eternity, and you lose the test of patience somewhat, smiling softly at him.
“You don’t want to?”
“I—” His tongue peeks out, running over his bottom lip. “I do. It’s not that I don’t want to, but…”
“You seem worried.”
A hesitant nod. “I’ve never — well, no, I have, but not — with someone like you.”
“What’s someone like me?” You laugh airily.
“Someone pretty like you — I don’t know. Someone who seems to know exactly what they want. Someone who seems like… they could do better than me.”
“Mark.” You can’t keep the incredulity out of your voice. “I do know exactly what I want. I want you. The rest — I don’t care about. As long as it’s you, I want it.”
He cracks a smile, half of relief, half of disbelief. You don’t miss his hand coming up to press, warm, against your waist. “For real?”
Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt — an anchor to bring you closer, until the tips of your noses are brushing. “For real.”
The third time you kiss is slow, almost careful; there’s lingering worry in the line of his mouth that your lips try to ease until his slightly part under the movements of yours. You feel the tension leave his form in waves — first in his shoulders, then in his arms, until you’re able to press yourself closer and feel the slight give of his frame against your smaller one. He’s radiating an immense amount of body heat that’s pricking your skin and keeping you alert, and you’re hyperaware of the smallest things — the weak tremble in his mouth, the slight roughness of his teeth under your tongue, the ridges of his palate above it.
He tastes nothing like what he smells, you learn. Instead of the air of earthy coffee stuck to clean linen, you inhale a combination of spearmint and mild saltiness that’s made slightly sharper by the lingering splash of alcohol from his accidental sip of punch earlier. You decide then and there that this disparity is important to you; it makes you feel like you’re the only one who can have this experience — that everyone else can know his scent, but now, only you can know what Mark Lee tastes like.
You have to keep your wits about you to avoid this addictive stimulation of your senses; you let go of his hand only to lock your fingers around his neck, and there’s a show of trust in how he lets you lead him backwards, until his knees are hitting the edge of the unmade bed. The kiss breaks as he’s forced to settle on the mattress, and he looks up at you in what can only be described as a quiet kind of awe. He doesn’t complain when you place your hands, heavy, on his shoulders, using his sturdy form to keep you stable as you move to straddle his lap.
“I feel like,” his voice is hoarse as he speaks up. “We should have picked a different location. Someone… could walk in.”
“I locked the door,” you remind him, a light reassurance in your voice. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but it’s clear there are cogs turning in his head, and you think it’s unfair that he’s thinking way too hard about something else that isn’t you, right now, in this position. In a bid to rectify this, your face presses into the side of his neck, breathing in that familiar scent and leaving a light kiss on his skin right after. Your lips mark the moment he swallows hard at the contact. “Besides, would you really be that unhappy if someone did?”
His hands tighten against your waist, prompting you to leave another kiss against his collarbone. “What — what do you mean?”
“You wouldn’t like it if someone — say, Youngho — walked in to see me on your lap like this?”
The silence that follows your words is tense, and you can tell that Mark’s breathing has become shallower. Again, you can feel his throat constricting slightly, and you can’t help but laugh breathily as you nip at his skin, just under his Adam’s apple. He’s surprisingly easy to tease, you realize — quick to turn speechless and prone to hanging onto your words.
To say that you wouldn’t want to use that to your advantage would be a downright lie.
“Tell me,” you urge, your tone deceptively gentle. “You wouldn’t want him to see you kissing me like this? To see me wrapped around you, begging for more, saying your name over and over? You don’t want him to watch you take me — so he knows you’re the only one that can?”
A strangled groan punctuates your words, but it comes from him; his fingers dig hard into your side with barely constructed restraint. “What do you want from me, _________?”
“I want to know if kissing me was the only thing you wanted for months.”
You pull your head away, nudging his chin with the tip of your nose. Another groan escapes him, and his head tilts back slightly, almost like he’s praying. But when his gaze comes down to meet yours at your level again, you see a firm resolution in his eyes that stirs your heart — which takes off the moment he shakes his head, slowly but surely.
“Then,” you whisper. “What do you want from me?”
He doesn’t say so much as shows; he takes from you your breath, steals another kiss that’s now firmer and more openly demanding. Suddenly, his mouth can’t seem to stay still, trapping your lower lip in between his, drawing out your taste until it mixes with his against his teeth. You feel your head growing light again, and you’re pleasantly surprised that it’s suddenly become difficult to keep up with his lips, asking more from you without restraint. A hum of need sounds in the back of his throat, vaguely dissatisfied, and he’s telling you wordlessly that it isn’t enough right before he attaches his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar. You think he’s just about to return the favor, but a laugh leaves you when you realize he’s taken it a step further, his teeth grazing your skin lightly, soft nips signaling how eager he is to sink his teeth in with only his slowly weakening self-control stopping him from doing it. Mark’s breathing is slightly labored when he pulls his lips away, warm breath fanning over your chest.
“It’s crazy — and stupid,” he croaks out, voice slightly raspy. “But I want it, and I don’t.”
“What do you mean?” Your fingers drag into his hair, combing it upward messily from his nape. He leans in for a quick kiss that’s somewhat misplaced, landing on the corner of your mouth instead of squarely atop it.
“I want them — him to see us. To see me with you, kissing you — fucking you, too. I want everyone to know we’re like this.”
You’ve never heard Mark say anything so forwardly before; a sweet, warm flush builds in your face, pleased at how comfortably he manages to say it — pleased that he’s saying it to you. “Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t want him to see you.” There’s a bluntness to his words, but hiding behind them is an undertone of pleading — a serious request. “I don’t want him to see how pretty you look. I don’t want him to see you when you’re bare, or how you look when I’m inside you. I don’t want him to see—”
His voice wavers and dies, and you wonder if he’s embarrassed, but when you read his expression, you see an unyielding longing. A smile tugs at your lips, and your hand comes around to cup his chin, thumb extending upwards to drag his lower lip down.
“You don’t want him to see what’s only yours.”
He swallows hard again, but he doesn’t wait long to nod. Understanding passes between the both of you, silently but completely, and Mark presses his face to your throat, feeling the hum resonate as he places another long, firm kiss there.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, in a way that almost feels like he wants to convince himself of something impossible to believe. He doesn’t even wait for your affirmation, prefers to read it in the way you shiver lightly once his lips travel further down. His kisses trail past the collar of your shirt, and his hands are unabashed in how they seek skin, pushing the fabric upward so he can settle the palms of his hands, warm against your waist. Oddly, they don’t travel upwards; they only brush against the dip, down slightly over the upward rise of your hips, then upwards again, almost soothingly. It’s almost like he wants his mouth to meet them, but he stops halfway, sidetracked by the curve of your breasts.
He barely pulls away, only does for a moment, enough to meet your eyes.
“You’re only mine,” he repeats, his voice softer now. You realize he’s still waiting for some confirmation, and when you do, you’re quick to give it to him — quick to erase any doubt.
“I’m yours,” you affirm in the same tone, in the same careful volume. “Only yours, Mark.”
Whatever else he wanted to ask for, he knows you’ve given assent; that much is clear when he buries his face between your tits, inhaling your scent. You briefly wonder if he might feel just as intoxicated around you as you do around him, if your pleasant dizziness in being this close to him, in tasting and smelling him is something he experiences too, but you don’t get much time to dwell on it the moment you feel his lips part, a slight wetness seeping through the fabric. He’s kissing your chest, teeth grazing just above the cup of your bra, nipping without any real objective other than to feel the pad’s slight resistance to his mouth.
You almost miss what he says as he shifts his head, lips brushing over the curve of your breast — another breathless ‘mine’ that isn’t ever punctuated; his lips still stay parted, mouthing at the cloth, like he’s desperate to feel what’s underneath through it. There’s pressure where his tongue presses flush against the shape of your tit, tightness whenever he chooses to nip, attempting to take the flesh and all that’s between you and him between his teeth.
Not enough, you think, even when a whimper of need bubbles out of you; you want to be closer, your thighs pressing against the sides of his. You’re close in almost every way, but you still inch yourself further forward, enough to feel the taut hardness in his jeans. Your hips settle right there, letting fabric ride against fabric as you center yourself.
No sooner do you press yourself flush against him do you gasp; the light sting sends a jolt up your spine when his teeth close around your nipple through your bra, and when you look down at him, you see the corners of his mouth pulled up in evident satisfaction. He’s quick to atone, his tongue dragging your shirt slightly upwards in his attempt to soothe, and for some reason, the push of fabric and the barely-there feeling of motion leaves you tingling.
“Mark.” Your voice comes out in a whine, but in the haze you’re in, you don’t really have a clear idea of what you’re asking for. All you know is that you want more of him, and for as much as he’s already given you in kisses and words, you aren’t even halfway down the list of everything else you wish you could demand from him. You say the only thing that comes to mind — the only thing that really encompasses what you feel. “Mark, I want you. I want more of you.”
His hands on your waist are replaced by the significant tightness of his arms, locked around your torso; you don’t even have the time to take in your awe at the fact that he can easily carry you, turn you over until you’re on your back, until he’s already eased one knee between your legs.
The way he looks down at you is a mixture of hesitation and desire, but the former’s erased when you reach out for him, murmuring another ‘more’ so you can pull him in. With one palm pressed against the mattress, he lets his free hand graze against your side again, bolder in its movements, and his fingers trace a path up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh through layers. Your back arches upwards in response, eager for more contact, for touch that’s almost there but not quite, and he smiles when you make a noise of frustration from his fingers tweaking the soft nub of your nipple.
“Mark, please—”
“Would you really let him see you like this?” His thumb’s still idly grazing over your breast, following the rise and fall of its curve. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice level despite the growing want that threatens to break through it. “Would you really let him watch you… get fucked?”
You shake your head, and his brow furrows.
“I’d let him watch you fuck me,” you correct him, and the confusion in his face gives way to pure satisfaction the moment you make this nuance clear. “It has to be only you.”
His grip tightens briefly against your breast again, and he leans down, pressing a surprisingly chaste and brief kiss to your lips.
“Then I’ll unlock the door next time and give him a show.”
You don’t know if it’s what he says or what he does after — his hands bunching your shirt upward until the hem’s just below your neckline — that makes your breath hitch, but you decide it doesn’t matter when you realize you’d much rather be focusing on the journey his lips take, slick against your stomach as he presses languid kisses down to your navel. His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, the weight naturally pulling them down, and you see his muscles tighten for a moment as he stops himself from tugging them off completely.
Mark’s mouth is unparalleled in its attentiveness, seemingly intent on making sure he’s covered every inch of your stomach in warm kisses, but you only realize he’s somehow stalling when he starts the cycle again, his nails digging into the taut elastic of your jeans as though to remind himself to curb his desire.
You take the initiative instead, raising your hips slightly to signal your want, acutely aware of the fact that you brush lightly against his thigh when you do so. His eyes lift first, followed by the rest of his face, and he’s watching you quietly. You might have thought he was unsure of what to do all of a sudden again, but his knee pressing closer, an unmistakable pressure against you, is enough to tell you that he’s only curious to know what else you’ll do.
The second time you grind against his thigh, his hands catch your hips, keeping them aloft just long enough for him to tug the band of your jeans downward; he peels them off you with surprising ease, returning to the same position between your legs, hands still firm on your waist. With that done, he only has the thin garter of your panties left to curl his fingers into, bunching it into his fists when you roll your hips up one more time. You manage a shaky noise when you feel the stark difference — the roughness of the denim against you, the stick and drag of flimsy cloth. Mark lets out a low but unmistakable hiss.
“I can’t believe—” his idea is cut short by the movement of your hips again, and his grip tightens, knuckles pressing into your skin. “Can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“What am I supposed to do,” you breathe out, the sound momentarily getting stuck in your throat. “So that you know it’s real?”
His fingers relax their hold, palms now pressed against your thighs; they travel between your hips and your knees, a soothing and thoughtful motion. “God — I don’t know. I just want — I just want you so badly. Like… I’m going to go crazy if I don’t have you now.”
You lean up, your weight resting on your elbow, and your other hand reaches out; Mark meets you halfway, bending just a little lower to press his cheek against your palm. There’s something intimate, something so giving about the way he turns his face to your fingers, pressing a fluttering kiss just under your thumb. The tips of your fingers trace the shape of his lips, even when they pucker again under your digits.
“Take me,” you murmur quietly. “Right now — from now on, every part of me is all for you.”
His exhale is shaky, but his fingers have a sureness to them; they slip under your thighs, cradling the backs of your knees, and lifting until they’re folded over your chest. You don’t even have the time to wonder if you should feel exposed all of a sudden; his breath warms the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips there — not a kiss, just a touch as he speaks.
“I want to taste you,” he mumbles, partly distracted with the act of inhaling the mild scent off of your skin. “Every inch of you — I want to know just how sweet you are.”
He lets his hold on your thighs relax, letting them fall apart; he busies his hands with your panties instead, hooking a finger into the strip of cloth just covering you. It’s clear you’re both aware that the fabric sticks light to your skin, poorly masking your wetness, and interest mingled with hunger flashes across his face as he pulls it aside.
“You’re so pretty,” he says, sounding like it’s a comment more for himself than anything else. His gaze flickers to you for a moment before it moves back to your pussy. “The prettiest fucking girl in the world.”
The pressure of his thumb between your folds causes you to forget what you wanted to say, and you know Mark had been nervous, but you realize that it doesn’t mean he’s supremely inexperienced by any means; there’s a quiet, understated confidence in the way he rubs slow, thorough circles, moving upward towards your clit. Your face, your neck, your whole torso feels flushed, but you power through the instinct to tilt your head back so that you can keep watching him — the minute changes in his expression, the slowly building strength in his touch.
“I want to taste you,” he repeats, looking up at you. “I want to know what you taste like when you cum against my mouth.”
You’re not sure if you’re gawking because you can hardly believe Mark Lee — your eternally blushing, mild mannered campus crush — had said all those words strung together into such a lewd sentence, but you’re sure as hell not going to deny him. Your hand travels down your torso, and he watches, curious at first, then awestruck when your index and forefinger settle against either side of your folds, pulling them apart in offering.
His eyes end up transfixed on your pussy again, observing how your fingers ease your folds further apart the more he massages his thumb against your slit. His mouth is slightly agape, intent on drinking in the sight, unaware that you’re trying to memorize this view of him too — Mark Lee, touching you, wanting you, eager to take you fully.
“I’ve always wanted to see what it’d look like with your face between my legs,” you say in a hushed tone, but he catches it anyway, briefly looking up at you again. “I’ve always wanted to know what your tongue would feel like against my pussy.”
Your index finger bumps against the tip of his thumb, and he stops its motions, allowing you to move his digit down until the pad of it hovers just in front of your tiny hole. You can see one cheek tucked between his teeth, bitten to muffle the groan you wish you’d heard louder.
“Won’t you show me?”
You think you hear him rasp out a ‘fuck yes’ before he bends down, pressing his half-open mouth against your pussy. The squeal of delight that leaves you is half-strangled as his thumb curls, hooking into your entrance. It starts a shallow, distracted motion, with his attention funneled much more clearly into keeping his tongue working. Flush against your slit, it drags up, and he releases a guttural noise at your taste, lips pursing slightly on the way back down — like he can’t stand not trapping every drop of wetness with his mouth.
The intensity of his tongue, the idle thrusting of his thumb — you’re not sure what you want to focus on more, and the result is you whimpering incoherently at the starkly contrasting combination of the two. Mark moves his mouth like he’s never tasted anything as good in his life; the sounds between your thighs are wet, sloppy — almost embarrassingly so — but you don’t have the presence of mind to dwell on that because Mark Lee is eating you out and that’s really all that you can think of.
The tip of his tongue suddenly flicks upwards; you keen, long and low, when it starts to circle your clit in that same intense, circular movement his thumb had gotten you used to. Your sensitivity skyrockets, and you’re completely unable to control the upward bucking of your hips, but Mark stays supremely unperturbed, his free arm winding under your thigh to keep the both of you steady. Your noises are growing embarrassingly loud, and you realize just how needy you’ve become when you vaguely notice that there’s a pattern in what you’re saying — his name, over and over again.
“Did you do that too?” He asks softly, his words slightly muffled against you. “Say my name, I mean — when you thought of me.”
“God, yes.” Your voice comes out strained, teetering on the edge of slurring. “So many times — every single fucking time.”
“Promise me something.” He lifts his head, and you see a fieriness in his gaze.
You nod — at this rate, whatever he’d ask you to do, you would without question. “Anything.”
His thumb presses in deeper, up to his knuckle and you reflexively tighten around his digit, but he keeps it anchored there, pushing down against your walls. He drinks in your gasp, the widening of your eyes, the way you chew on your lip with a singular kind of contentment on his face.
“Promise me — from now on, you’ll make sure I’m always there to hear it.”
The only kind of assent you’re able to make is a moan as he dives down again, mouth buried in your warmth, his nose pressed tight against your clit. His tongue moves in strong strokes, broad swipes that push your folds apart further, and his thumb, while not moving, increases in pressure to the point that you feel a heaviness adding to the growing pleasure. Your hands fly down, seeking some kind of sense and reason, and you thread your fingers into his hair, grip tightening as your climax builds in stride.
“Mark, I’m—” close, you want to say, embarrassingly so, but the moment he hears his name, his lips attach to your clit, and there’s suddenly so much more pressure as he sucks, almost like he’s desperate to draw out your orgasm. He chooses this of all time to start moving his thumb again, and this time, his movements are anything but slow and idle; they’re filled with the intent to drive you over the edge. “Fuck me, oh my god—”
“I want to,” he murmurs, pausing for just a moment to drag the tip of his tongue around the nub. “God, I want to. Let me see you cum first; let me taste how sweet you are.”
His thumb stops, buries deep into your pussy, and you’re not sure why this, of all things, is what pushes you beyond control; you’re only half-sure you say his name when your orgasm hits, the rest of your consciousness much too clouded by pleasure. He doesn’t stop, revels in the way you squirm under him as he hums low and keeps his tongue working against your clit. His licks become longer, more thorough as you come down from your high, your cries softening into whimpers as his tongue both attempts to clean you up and makes you messier in the process. His arm is still curled around your thigh, keeping you from inching away from him, even if instinct and stimulation are telling you to.
You’re barely lucid when you sit up, and Mark inches back, somewhat startled; you grab the front of his shirt, and the sight of his mouth, slick and glistening from your wetness, only makes you more curious to know what you taste like on him. You find out how tangy it is, how rich the two of you are together on his lips, and you’re able to fully appreciate the skill of the mouth that kisses you deeply, leaving traces of you against your tongue and teeth.
“Please — fuck me.” It’s the only thing you can say at this rate, only half-coherent and still trembling with desire, but Mark doesn’t seem to care that you’re stuttering over such a simple request. His thumb wipes traces of saliva off the corner of your mouth, kisses it clean for good measure, then straightens up, his hands working at his belt. You almost miss the fact that his hands are shaking slightly as he undoes the buckle and tugs it out from the loops.
You want to help — it’s the least you can do, after all, and your fingers push the button of his jeans out through the hole, his hands working in tandem to tug the zipper down. However, your movements falter when you hear a noise from just outside the room — the sound of the doorknob being jangled, the thud of a body gently hitting the door, as though worried it’s stuck. You glance up at Mark, ready to reassure him, but he either hadn’t heard or doesn’t care because he’s too busy stepping out from the pool of denim at his ankles, and you get completely sidetracked by the bulge straining against his boxers.
You almost ignore Youngho’s voice grumbling ‘Jesus Christ, now of all times? from behind the door, but you leverage it instead.
“Should we let him in?” You ask, tone innocent despite the evident deviousness in your words. It pays off, though; Mark’s cock twitches unmistakably under thin fabric, and he actually looks like he’s considering it. “You’re just about to fuck me, after all. Weren’t we going to — what did you say? Put on a show?”
He worries on his bottom lip, like he’s unsure if you’re serious, but in the end, he shakes his head, reaching out to smooth your hair away from your face and ushering you to lay back down. The lips that meet your forehead are gentle, almost apologetic.
“Not now,” he murmurs against your skin. “Right now, you’re all mine.”
You laugh lightly, nodding, and he chuckles too, but the sound of it slowly dies down when your finger hooks into the garter of his boxers. You can feel his breathing hitch as you tug it down, the elastic catching when it meets the shape of his cock, but you don’t make any move to free it just yet — for some reason, you want to see him do it.
“Show me.”
He complies without hesitation, one hand dragging the elastic down over his thighs, the other curling around the base of his length, and your face flushes as satisfaction works through your system at the bare sight of him.
Mark Lee is big — not monstrously so, but enough for you to make a pleased noise as your hand joins his, fingers barely wrapping around his girth. You give his shaft a gentle squeeze, and his exhale stutters, watching you stroke him, long and thorough in your movements. Your palm swipes over the tip, leaking precum, allowing it to slick up your hand enough to keep your movements smooth. You’re fixated on the tension in his lips, the throb of his cock against your palm, and the way his gaze never leaves your face, like a small, amazed part of him still can’t believe what you’re doing, even if you’re both half-naked already.
“I want to suck you off,” you plead, grip tightening slightly. He grits his teeth, stifling another groan, but he shakes his head clearly enough for you to slow your movements in mild surprise.
“Can’t — not now. I need to be in you so badly.” His breathing’s sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to keep himself in check. “You don’t even know — how long I’ve wanted to feel you.”
Your hold relaxes, and you let him maneuver you, his renewed hold on your hips dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. In this position, he can spread your thighs further, and you angle yourself optimally — enough for him to get a full view of your pussy, wet and still aching from your last orgasm.
“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to know how tight you are,” he continues, and there’s a faraway look in his eyes that makes you think he might be entrenched in fantasy. “How much I would have killed to see you — have you like this. I’m not gonna be able to wait anymore.”
His fingers dig into your sides, thumbs stroking your stomach in a weak pattern. The underside of his shaft presses against your folds, still half obscured by your panties, in a way that’s heavy enough to make you mewl, your hips reacting before your mind can, and he hisses softly as he feels his length glide along your slit before you relax your stance again.
“I can’t wait,” he reiterates, a breaking in his voice that sounds almost tortured. You don’t want him to either, want to see him buried to the hilt inside you, and you raise your hips again in need. “I want you so much it’s driving me crazy.”
“Then take me.”
And you’re not sure if it’s a demand or a plea, but he no longer stops himself; his hand fists his cock a few times, coating the slick of precum along his length before he lines the tip up with your entrance. His other hand’s flush against the inside of your thigh, a light pressure ensuring he always has enough space to fit himself between your legs — enough space to bottom out completely.
Mark’s considerate in his pace — maybe he knows he’s big, or maybe he’s just naturally careful, but he allows you the time to adjust to the stretch. Your nails almost puncture holes into the sheets, your grip so tight you wonder if it’s just to brace yourself or to hang onto the last threads of your sanity. He’s only halfway in, but you’re pushing fullness already, and he stops when his cock meets slight resistance, looking up at you in concern.
“You’re not—?”
“It doesn’t hurt,” you reassure him softly, and it’s true; the adjustment brings about slight discomfort, but it’s almost nothing to you — not compared to how much more you want. “Give me everything; I want all of you inside me.”
He pauses still, trying to read your expression for any lies, but when he can’t find any, he nods, his jaw tensing as he presses both palms against your thighs, keeping you open as much as possible to accommodate him. He doesn’t even stop when you whimper, feeling a tightening twitch in your pussy that also causes him to groan, until inch by inch, you’ve taken him, his hips flush against yours.
He doesn’t move — not yet, his eyes trained to where you’re connected like he’s once again unable to believe what he’s doing. You hear him mumble something to himself that you want to hear too; you squirm slightly, and he hisses through his teeth, looking up at you and finding the questioning in your face. He offers you a small smile, albeit somewhat strained.
“You’re tighter than I thought.”
“You’re bigger than I thought,” you hum, and neither of you is really to blame; the tight fit, the slight breathlessness it leaves you with, is perfect, you think — just what the both of you need. “Did you often think about fucking me?”
“Probably just as often as you’re making it sound like you thought about having me fuck you, I think.”
“Don’t get cocky,” you warn, but there’s no real heat in your voice.
“I won’t. But it makes me feel good — knowing you wanted me just as bad.”
“I still do.” Your gaze is lazy, a little hazy, even if you’re anticipating so much. Even just the feeling of Mark, throbbing inside you, is already slowly building the pleasure in your stomach again; you wonder if you could cum like this, given enough time, given enough patience. “I’m still waiting for you to fuck me. God, Mark— please.”
He chuckles good-naturedly, but even that’s drowned out by the long moan that leaves you once he draws his hips back; your body’s mildly shocked into a new adjustment, feeling a sudden emptiness that’s quickly mitigated by him filling you back up again. The pace is slow, almost torturous, although you know he isn’t doing it to get a rise out of you. He wants to ease you into speed, careful to help you adjust fully; his restraint in his movements is all the more evident on his face, in the furrowing of his brow and the determination in his gaze. Even with that, he can’t help what he says, so intent on controlling everything else he does that he lets his words spill out over your noises.
“Pretty,” he grunts out, and when your walls twitch around him, he accidentally thrusts sharper — just enough for you to whimper a little more loudly, and he has to reel his strength back again. “God, you’re beautiful. I should’ve told you sooner how much I wanted you. All those times I had to imagine you wrapped around me like this, wondering how much tighter you’d get once you came on my cock. All those times you drove me crazy while I was alone, when I could have been in you— I could have found out how good you felt. How pretty you’d look under me. And you’re still even prettier, even better than I ever dreamed.”
There’s an erratic melody of moans under his words, spilling from your mouth, and the fact that he riles himself up enough to increase his speed slightly doesn’t escape you. He’s a little less careful now, seemingly entranced by the view he gets, watching his shaft disappear into you only to come out glistening, and a part of you hates the idea of snapping out of his reverie, but the majority of your thoughts now lean towards wondering how much more you can get him to break free of his own self-imposed restrictions.
“I wanted to ask you so many times.” His eyes snap up, coming back into focus as he takes in the sight of you, flushed, hair tousled, gaze darkened. “Almost every day — I sat there, thinking about how all I could do was go home and fuck myself, frustrated you weren’t doing it for me. I should have taken you home with me right then and there — should have let you watch me touch myself thinking of you, should have let you touch me into cumming on your fingers.”
His breathing staggers as he leans in, eager to see you clearer, to hear your words, slowly becoming airier as they come out. For a moment, his gaze falls, torn between watching him move into you and meeting your eyes, but he ultimately chooses the latter once you speak up again, your tone even more hushed than before — like it’s meant to be a secret between just you and him.
“But there were times I wanted you even more than that, to the point that I almost felt like I couldn’t wait.” His eyes widen slightly, a few precious seconds of wondering if he understands what you mean, right before you confirm what he thinks. “I thought about making a move right then — I should have kissed you. I should have asked you.”
“Asked me what?” His voice is gruff with the effort to keep himself in check despite the fact that it’s clear to the both of you that it won’t last.
Your lazy smile’s illusionary; it hides the triumph swelling in your chest at knowing that he asked exactly what you hoped him to.
“I should have asked you to fuck me in front of everyone there.”
“God,” his eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening. “Please. I can’t—”
“I should have bent over for you there, begged you to stretch me out right after our session,” you continue, bordering on merciless. “Mark, you don’t know — how badly I wanted to be on your lap, your cock in me, with everyone watching. How much I wanted you to fold me over that table, have people watch you pound me, have them listen to how good you make me feel. No one would ever even wonder; everyone would know I’m yours.”
You pause, allowing his eyes to fly open once again, and there’s a pleading in them that’s begging for release. Your eyes soften along with your voice, but you’re this far gone; you should at least see it through.
“And everyone would know you’re mine too.”
“Fuck,” he growls, and his hips stutter before new resolve fills him, his hips driving into you with the force of a strength you didn’t even know he had in him; your thighs tremble at the intensity, at the renewed impact, and feeling him drive his cock deeper into you has you crying out somewhere between a moan and a sob. “Fuck, _________. If I had known you’d thought about me like that — God.”
It’s your turn to shut your eyes for a while, allowing yourself to focus on his movements, breaching your tightness even faster now. You feel his hands skim up your sides again, fingers digging into the fabric of your bra and pulling them down until your bare tits are cupped in his hands. You shiver as his thumbs pass over your nipples, toying them into firm nubs.
“One day,” he hums out, his voice giving way to a slight hoarseness again. “I’ll do it. I’ll fuck you in front of him — in front of Youngho, in front of everyone. I’ll let them wonder how tight you are, how fucking warm you are, and I’ll let them leave knowing no one can know but me.”
It’ll never happen, you both know, but something about agreeing to something so absurd is what has your body almost shaking in longing, and it’s what causes him to press in deeper, folding your legs closer to your torso. Your hands do what little they can to help, keeping your thighs apart so as not to obstruct his view. You can tell it’s somehow not enough, not really all of what he wants when his brow furrows, and he shifts his weight, pushing into you at a new angle.
The stark difference has you gasping before you can control it. Immediately, Mark stops, and you’re already shaking your head before you even hear him say anything, presuming he’s paused out of concern. But before you can say you’re fine, his hushed voice cuts through the silence.
“Do that again.”
“What?”
“Do it again,” he mumbles, sounding distant. “Breathe in. Suck in your stomach.”
You’re not one to complain at such a simple request, albeit a little odd, so you comply, inhaling enough to tighten your torso. You’re surprised when you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you blow out the air alongside your question. “Mark, what are you—”
“I can see it,” he says in utter disbelief. “When you’re like this, I can — I can see my cock inside you. Just a bit.”
Your eyes follow his gaze, fixed just below your navel. From this angle, without any movement, you can’t see a thing, but you assume he’s not one to abandon fucking you so intently without good reason, so you press your palm against your stomach, just above your pelvis. Nothing really feels significantly out of place — up until the point when Mark draws his hips back again, and you feel the backward slide of his cock.
Your throat tightens, and you don’t really understand the feeling that spreads in you — a unique kind of arousal, knowing how deep he is inside you and how you’re taking all of him in despite the fit, because of the fit. Your hand falls away, allowing Mark’s to take its place, and he exerts just a little more pressure against your stomach in an attempt to get the most out of the experience when he thrusts back in. He groans, feeling the bulge push back up, and he quickly picks up the same pace, renewed in intensity so he can experience the rapid rise and fall he creates under his palm.
The faster he goes, the harder he presses, and you’re not sure if he knows it, but the onslaught of friction is what’s making you whine and squirm even more; you’re trapped, in the best way possible, in his hold, your hands back to clinging to the backs of your knees like a lifeline. Pressure from the outside builds on the slowly growing pressure inside, a knot in your pelvis that’s coiling so tightly you feel like you can’t breathe. If Mark notices how close you are, he doesn’t make it known; he’s busy feeling the outline of his cock against your stomach, and when he looks up at you again, his eyes are hazy.
“I would fuck you every single day, every single hour if I could feel this every time,” he whispers in a way that’s almost reverent. “Let me — I want to keep seeing you like this. I want to feel how deep I am inside you, too. Let me fuck you all the time.”
You nod, and your first attempt to say something is just another choked sob. When you do manage to get something out, it’s broken in tearful stutters. “M-Mark, I’m s— I’m so close… I’m — fuck—”
“Do it.” It’s not a harsh command but an urging made on short breath; through your misty vision, you see tension in Mark’s face and shoulders, like he’s bracing himself for something too. You barely register the ping in the back of your mind, too focused on the way he’s pressing his palm harder on your stomach, the way his hips quicken their pace — he’s close too. “Let me feel you — want to feel you cum all over my cock.”
You inhale, not to speak but to let out a loud whimper; your teeth dig into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans that threaten to follow, but in the end, you whine out his name. Your thighs threaten to close, trembling as you finally reach your climax, an impossible explosion of pleasure, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t get dizzy from the stars that burst around your vision.
“Fuck.” Mark’s voice is strained, his one hand still firm against your stomach, the other sliding against the inside of your thigh. “You get even tighter — you feel even better when you cum.”
“Mark,” you hiccup, unable to do anything but flutter around him as he pistons harder into you. You don’t even know what you’re asking for when you say ‘please,’ but he somehow seems to, and you trust that your body’s saying something you can’t fully detect in this state, with your mind floating in the aftermath of ecstasy.
“I know,” his tone is soothing in contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. “I’ve got you. Just a little more — where do you want—?”
You blink slowly, his words sinking in at too leisurely a pace; his hips stutter dangerously before you’re able to respond. You barely even do that, your hand gently brushing over the one against your stomach, but he catches onto the meaning quickly enough.
You’ve never heard your name said in such a beautiful way; hearing him moaning it lowly is enough to make you whine again, and that noise is drawn out when he shifts and slips out of you fully. Your brain’s fuzzy, but your senses are at least sharp enough to drink in the perfect sight of him cumming — the way he leans his head back, jaw taut and eyes shut, as he pumps his cock and the heat of his release against your skin, pooling against your stomach once he finally cums. You see a shiver run through him, and then he’s still for a while in this position, the both of you basking in the afterglow of your highs.
You’re still weak and sensitive when Mark finally comes back down, a lucidity you don’t have right now coming back into his gaze. All you can do is smile when he leans in, catching your lips in another kiss — one that’s surprisingly soft and slow in comparison to everything else, but still leaves you breathless when he pulls away.
“Let me clean you up,” he murmurs, and you hum in agreement, your body limp as you watch him move off the bed and pull a handful of tissues from a box on the desk on the opposite wall. Even his hands are gentle when he scoops you up, shifting you until your head can lean against the pillows. They carry a scent you’re not used to, and your nose scrunches, rejecting the change, but that’s quickly overpowered by Mark’s familiar coffee-and-linen one when he presses next to you, careful as he wipes his cum off your stomach and thoroughly cleans between your thighs. From somewhere down below, you still hear hushed voices, and the front door slams shut again. People are still in the middle of leaving, but you know Youngho will likely run out of guests soon, and this makes you feel like the timing’s suddenly become urgent.
“I want to date you properly,” you start, slightly slurred but unmistakably blunt. Mark’s gaze snaps to yours, slightly amused, as he balls the tissues up in his fist. “You never asked me, so I’m asking you.”
He looks perplexed. “I just never thought you wanted me to, so I didn’t try.”
You reach up, locking your fingers into his hair and using your grip to pull him down. Your kiss is a little demanding, with a tinge of excess frustration, and he pulls away laughing lightly.
“Do you still think I don’t want you to?”
Mark hums thoughtfully. “I think you made a lot of things clear tonight. On my end, I was happy enough to be near you.” He smiles down at you, and in the faint light, you can see the flush slowly return to his cheeks. “Having you like this — dating you… there’s no way I’d say no.”
Your shoulders relax, satisfied with his answer, and you beam up at him — an act he easily returns, breathtaking and endearing all at once.
Moments later, you feel his arm wind around your waist; he allows you to lean into his side, his other hand crossing over his lap to stroke your thigh. His face turns, pressing a kiss to your hair, and you feel his lips move, hear the quick rush of a whisper. You tilt your head, eyes slightly wide in questioning. “What was that?”
He shakes his head at first, trying to pass it off as nothing. But when it’s clear your curiosity won’t abate, he chuckles softly, his hand gently cupping your chin so that you can only look at him. His thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, as if trying to coax the same words out of your mouth before he murmurs them to you one more time — and this time, he sounds fully convinced of them.
“You’re all mine.”
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hyuckmov · 7 months
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haechan — settle down (rockstar hyuck) | part 1 of 3
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wc: 22k (!!!!!!!) genre: angst, smut (18+ minors dni), fluff warnings: loss of virginity, very soft sex (hand-holding during sex), lots of kissing, protected sex, haechan fucks...a lot, fingering, oral (f receiving), very faint corruption kink, JEALOUSY, possessiveness (marking, signing on your body), handjob, car sex, cumplay, spit, exhibitionism (!), slight dumbification, slight degradation, titty-sucking etc, sweet aftercare a/n: i worked a lot on this and i really hope u like it.... i really hope it's hot... i hope u like rockstar haechan...please let me know what u think... (fic playlists) | browse the fic tag :)
he's been staring at you all night.
the bass thrums insistent in your chest, overriding your heartbeat, as you cling onto the barrier between the stage and the crowd. lights flash before your eyes, almost blinding you with how fast they blinked, and you can barely make out the faces of the boys onstage as they play their last song of the night. the air is damp, excitement riding high over the crowd in waves of endless screams that never seem to stop. 
and the boy on the far right, fingers moving deftly over the strings of his electric guitar, hasn't taken his eyes off you for the last five minutes. 
a sharp smile tugs at his lips, smokey makeup making his gaze ever more piercing as he looks down at you through his overgrown bangs, hairs at the nape of his neck unruly and wild. the lights throw the features of his face into high contrast, the tattoos curling on his neck and hip screaming for attention, as do the glint of jewelry scattered everywhere on his body. you feel smaller and smaller under his gaze, something lewd about the way he runs his tongue over his lips, eyes practically undressing you. he never seemed to stop moving his body as he played, bouncing on his toes or letting his body lean away from the sound, the music fuelling and becoming one with his movements as if he were a dancer.
as the music crashes and swells towards the end of his solo, his eyes slide over to yours with a practiced precision, as if he had memorized your position in the crowd. swaying his hips from side to side, his eyelids droop just slightly into a half-lidded stare, as he ruts his hips playfully against his guitar. 
the screams of the other fans are deafening, but you can hardly hear it over the rush of your heartbeat in your own ears.
haechan finally looks away, a small smile on his face as he signals to his bandmates towards the song's ending. you feel almost empty as the weight of his attention lifts off of you, pressing yourself up against the railing on tip-toe to try and catch his eye again before sinking down and feeling like an idiot. 
he was just doing fanservice for an audience member, nothing more. you try not to find his actions endearing as he slings his arm around the lead singer, mark, his surprisingly boyish laugh making your heart flutter in your chest as he waves towards his fans one more time. 
people are leaving the venue, the sounds of their excitement getting further and further away, but you stand there, reeling, clutching onto the metal barrier, sure that if you took your hands off it you would fall. finally, glancing up at the stage one last time, you're just about to leave to find your friend, the only reason you were even here, when –
"leaving so soon?" 
the boy is sitting on the stage right in front of you, leaning forward so you can see his face clearly. up close, he's even prettier than before, delicate almost doll-like legs wrapped under ripped skinny jeans, leading up to thick and toned thighs, his slender waist shadowed under his large leather jacket ridden with buckles and straps. without the bright stage lights, you can see the moles on his skin, tracing a dangerous path under the collar of his shirt. 
at your lack of response, he raises his eyebrows. "i asked if you were leaving, princess." 
"i have to find my friend," the words come out rushed. "um…jaemin? your band hired him tonight as the photographer." 
"i remember," he nods. "so…you're not a fan?" 
"no." he nods, silence filling the space between the both of you. you can see him start to formulate a goodbye, his heart-shaped lips parting, but you don't want the conversation to end, you don't want him to stop looking at you. "- but…i really enjoyed your show." 
he looks a little surprised, and a genuine smile spreads sweetly across his face. "why?" he challenges. 
"what?" 
"what did you like about our show?" his eyes glint, and you know he's teasing you. 
"the songs were good," you mumble. 
"yeah?" he licks his lips, a slight hint of nervousness showing on his face as he clears his throat. "who was your favorite member?" 
"huh?" 
"your favorite band member," he repeats, tilting his head to the side. "jeno, he's our drummer, mark's the lead singer, jisung plays bass and i…" he waves his hand absentmindedly towards his guitar, on the stand, still onstage behind him. "i'm haechan," he adds. 
if you wanted to get to know him, it wouldn't hurt to show a little of exactly how much you liked him, would it? "you were my favorite," you admit. "you…you have really good stage presence," you blurt out. 
"stage presence?" 
"yeah. when i'm in the crowd…i can't really pay attention to anything else. and you…" you swallow, heat burning up your cheeks, but the way his eyes were looking at you with curiosity making you finish your thought. "you make the audience feel like they want to please you." the unspoken truth, that you, as part of the audience, wanted to please him, hangs in the air. 
your embarrassment, at saying something so suggestive and raw, is quickly washed away by the smile tugging at the corner of his lip, a smirk that quickly spreads across his face into a grin. you're so mesmerized by it, that you're taken aback by the way he suddenly shifts, hopping down the stage lightly and standing in front of you. 
"princess," he says, softly, placing his hands on the railing next to yours so the sides of your fingers barely brush. "do you want to come to a party?" 
you resist the urge to immediately say yes. "what party?" 
"there's one after every show. jaemin will have been invited, he can take you." the venue has emptied out, even his bandmates have left the stage. and yet, his voice is pitched low as he leans in, body warmth radiating off of him, and you are so close, you can see the smudged eyeliner on his lower lash line, can make out the grey of his colored contact lenses. "you can find me there." 
"but…" you feel lost. "why can't you just take me?" 
"if we show up together, it'll seem a little like we're dating, no?" his voice is quiet, but firm. 
hurt and confusion blossoms in your chest. was it really that serious? keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, you ask, "would that be so bad? for…for us to date?”
but you know it's the wrong thing to say. 
he exhales slowly, a brief look of pain flitting over his features. he hated doing this, hated reaching the point in conversations where rules and boundaries had to be discussed. nights where he found his girls at the party were the easiest, letting body language and long glances do the talking, as few strings attached as possible. 
but today he couldn't stop looking at you, in the front row, couldn't help sliding his eyes over and checking to see if you were watching him, a pleased thrum burning in his chest every time his gaze found yours. it seemed logical, to spend his time with you tonight. but if he'd known you'd felt like this, he never would have waited onstage. 
"what's your name, princess?" 
"y/n."
"y/n, i'm not making you my girlfriend," he states, bluntly. "i can't, and i don't want to. you can meet me at the party later, but we'll just fuck – nothing else." 
his words make you feel small, his tone harsh compared to his previous meandering way of speaking. even then, the thought of letting him walk away, to never see him again, to end this story on this moment, made you feel worse than anything.  
at the look on your face, he softens slightly. 
"i'm sorry if you thought this was going to be more," he says, quietly. "you don't have to do anything you don't want to." 
"i do," you correct him. frustrated, he sighs, and you rush to clarify. "i'll meet you at the party. just…nothing else." your end off hesitantly, unwilling to echo his crude words.
"are you sure?" you think you see his gaze darken, the tension suddenly heightening as he places one of his large hands over your own. his guitar-calloused fingertips are rough as they slide against the back of your hand, drawing shapes that burn into your skin like tattoos. you nod, but he shakes his head — slowly, sweetly patient. "i need to hear you say it," he murmurs, and the words go straight to your gut. 
"i'm sure." your voice comes out as a whisper, but he doesn't seem to mind. he leans in, and just when you think your lips are going to meet, your mouth parting expectantly, he tilts his head and kisses you softly on your cheek. 
"make sure no one sees you, princess," he murmurs, low in your ear, before straightening up. "don't make me wait too long, hm?" 
"did anyone follow you up here?" 
haechan sits with his legs hanging off the edge of the roof, arms slung over one of the lower rungs of the railing. he doesn't spare you a glance as he takes another drink from his bottle of red wine, knowing that you're hanging onto his every word. 
"no," you reply, voice barely louder than a whisper. you repeat yourself again, louder, hating the way your voice shakes with hesitance. "no, i don't think so." 
he exhales, shrugging off the leather jacket that hangs large over his frame, his shoulderblades moving under his white shirt, veiny arms pushing the bottle to the side as he shifts himself backwards fluidly so he's further away from the ledge, his long legs stretched out. 
"well?" and now he turns to look at you, dark eyes framed with makeup searching for yours, his gaze heavy. the piercing on his eyebrow glints in the moonlight, and when he leans his weight back on his hands, his shirt rides up so that you can see just the hint of a tattoo curling low on his hip. "are you ready?" 
feet unsteady, you shuffle over to him, standing over him as he watches you through hooded eyes. unsure, you start to sit down next to him, but a hand quickly reaches out to touch your knee, dragging his touch up the back of your thigh, the cold scrape of his rings on your skin feeling rough and claiming all at once. his lips part almost mockingly, commanding you without words to stop. 
he flicks his gaze down to his lap, eyes flickering back up to yours. eyebrows raised, as if in a challenge.
slowly, you lower yourself onto his lap, hands hesitantly grasping for his shoulders. his arms come to steady your waist, slipping under your shirt and touching bare skin, feeling the way your body shifts and moves. it's only because your body is pressed up against his, his hands are roaming up and down your thighs, that he notices something which makes him halt his movements, licking his lips. 
"you're shaking," he murmurs, now brushing the hair out of your eyes, tucking a strand behind your ear as he studies you, taking in the way you're all tensed up, the uncomfortable way your legs are folded, goosebumps erupting every time his fingertips brushed your skin, muscles trembling.
you swallow. "i've never done this before," you admit. 
his eyes widen, now removing his hands from you entirely, letting them fall. "you're a virgin?" 
you nod, heart pounding in your chest. he's looking away, his jaw set, his gaze hardened. did he hate that you had no experience? or would he enjoy that? "i can…" the words come out in a jumble, "you can teach me, i want… i want to-" 
"no." with surprising gentleness, he motions for you to move off his lap, and you follow his actions mindlessly, docile under his touch. 
"do you think i won't be good enough?" you ask, hating the way your voice comes out wounded and achy, hating how weak he made you. 
he pauses, tongue poking into the side of his cheek, and you think you can see a flash of something deep in his eyes. 
"y/n…i can't be your first time." 
"but i want –" 
"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." despite his words, his voice is cold, and clear. "i don't do that." he dusts off his jacket, shrugging it back on as he takes another drink from the bottle, eyes closed, unwilling to look at you for another second. "go home, y/n. i'll see you at the next show." 
you don't move. you kneel there, next to him, eyes desperately searching for his. 
"go home, y/n," he repeats, harshly. 
"i want to stay here," you bite back, stubbornly, hurt making your voice brittle. 
"then you'll have to watch me fuck someone else." lazily, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket for his phone, and you can see him scroll through his messages, faces and names blurring as you barely decipher him type out another message. his fingers moving across the keyboard, as the anonymous responder sends a series of heart emojis, eagerness palpable through the screen. he locks his phone, the click sound startling you out of your daze, and he puts his phone down on his lap, the action somehow mocking.
"so?" he's still not looking at you, staring straight ahead into the night. "do you want to watch?" 
and as you make your way down the stairs, shame burning at your neck and tears burning hot down your cheeks, you can swear you feel his eyes follow you all the way down. 
the feeling of embarrassment curdles in your stomach, and leaves a sour taste in your mouth every time you look in the mirror. it's what leads you to skip the next show, making an excuse to jaemin about 'having other plans'. and then the other, and then the other. and then it's been a week, and your friend has finally managed to drag you to one of their after-parties, pushing you through the door with a little too much enthusiasm. he knows something is bothering you, and he wants nothing more than to help take your mind off of it — but he has no idea that the something is currently leaning against the archway leading off into the living room, nursing a bottle of beer in his hands, and brushing his hands around some girl's waist in a way that made you feel sick. 
jaemin introduces you to mark, out on the balcony. mark is sweet, and friendly, a regular boy-next-door who happens to have face gems twinkling next to his eyes and leather pants tight around his thighs. he asks you about college, and work. he talks about the songs he's writing on his guitar. he catches your drink when you almost drop it over the railing, an easy smile on his face when his fingers brush yours passing it back to you, and a shy grin when he reaches out to lace his fingers with yours properly.
"i'm really busy, but i'd love to talk to you more," he says, sincerely, as he takes your phone from your hands to key in his number. he texts himself so his contact is at the top of your messages, making you promise to text him when you get back. he looks at you meaningfully, squeezing your hand before dropping it to go back to his party. 
there's a moment, where you think to follow. 
but then all of it – every touch, every glance, every speck of light you counted reflected in marks' wide eyes, — all of it is wiped clean the moment you hear a familiar low voice.
"trying to get with my friends now, princess?" 
when the light illuminates his silhouette, hurt registers before anything else. 
hickeys bloom across the side of haechan's neck, trailing down to his chest. only a simple mesh top lies underneath his leather jacket, and you can see the shadows of a few more bruises on his torso when his arm shifts, tugging the jacket open just slightly. his hair is a mess, tugged this way and that by desperate hands, and you think there may be a smear of bright pink lipstick at the corner of his lips. you can smell the reek of flowery perfume, cloyingly sweet, all over his clothes, as he leans back against the railing, eyes turned towards the party happening behind the sliding glass doors.
"i thought you said i was your favorite band member," he murmurs, a mock expression of sadness on his face. "mark's nothing like me." 
"why do you care?" you will yourself to sound more confident, letting the hurt dissolve into defiance. 
"i don't." the pout has melted off his face, a burning intensity now in the way he stares at you, making you shift uncomfortably. a moment passes, where he studies your face, eyes flicking across your features almost methodically. "so am i?" 
"what?" 
"am i still your favorite?" his voice is bitter, as if he knows the answer before asking and he doesn't like it. 
"are you seriously asking me that?" 
"princess –"
he's interrupted by a chime from your phone. the both of you glance down at it at the same time, the text and the sender unmistakeable on your otherwise empty lockscreen. 
mark <3 : thanks for talking to me today :) let me know when you get home safe! 
there's a pause. 
"mark has a girlfriend," haechan blurts out, his voice coarse. 
"what?" you look up at him, trying to figure out if this was a joke, but his face is impassive. 
"he cheats on her all the time with girls from his parties. it's his thing." haechan's still looking at your screen even though your phone has turned off, resolutely not meeting your eyes. 
it takes you a moment to gather yourself, every one of mark‘s actions and words suddenly flashing before you like a flipbook, sweet memories crumpling into dust. "are you lying?" you ask, shakily. 
"why would i?" he finishes his beer, veins shifting on the back of his hand as he crushes the empty can, the crunch of metal dissonant against the warm summer night. his next words are just as rough. "whether or not you get with mark means nothing to me. i don't care. i don't even know you." 
his words ring true, as he pushes off from the railing, leaving you alone on the balcony without another word. the abrupt end to the conversation has you turning, eyes following him as he steps back into the party, looking away a little too late as you see him gesture someone over with a flick of his fingers, her long hair covering both their faces when their lips meet. 
jaemin finds you crying on the balcony, but he can't figure out the reason. you delete mark's contact off your phone the moment you get home, and jaemin promises you he's never taking you to any other show or party with the band ever again. 
"there should be an empty room somewhere." the man lets go of your hand, at the foot of the stairs. "can you wait for me inside one? i'll find you in a minute." 
it's only when you're halfway upstairs, when you realise that you're really about to give yourself to a stranger for your first time. 
he has a bright smile, sweet dimples showing each time his lips turn upwards, each time he calls you baby. he's not much older than you, but there's an easy authority in the way he takes your cup from your hands and tells you to stop drinking, getting you glasses of water instead. his body dwarfs yours in size, and when you put your hand on his thigh, you see something shift in his expression that tells you he may not be as gentle as he seems. 
and when you tell him he'll be your first time, his throat bobs as he swallows, eyes dragging up and down your body with a newfound hunger. 
you've never really cared about who you lost your virginity to, not considering it a big occassion or anything to make a fuss over. your mind flits back to two weeks ago, when some boy had cared way more about it than you did. 
"you need to be with someone who will take care of you." 
anger flares in your chest at the thought of it, as you climb up the stairs two steps at a time, and it's just when you're just reaching the first landing, when you suddenly coming to a crashing halt because —
the sound of microphone feedback makes you put your hands over your ears, instinctively, the shrill sound piercing the air. 
a loud bass suddenly starts up, vibrating under your feet. did they hire a live band? the song that booms from downstairs is familiar, and with a jolt, you realise that you know it a little too well. 
that honey-sweet voice, the bitter bite to his words soothed over by the sweetest of tones – drifts up from the speaker, a haunting melody that echoes up the empty staircase, punctuated by a screaming crowd.
as if to further prove it was him, he lets out a laugh at the end of his line, the tone of it dark and sarcastic, the crowd going wild at the sound of it. 
was it a studio recording? it must be, because there was no way this band was downstairs, performing live at this random birthday party, there was no chance…
… except now mark is speaking into the microphone, greeting the audience, asking for the birthday girl. unease stirs in your stomach as you trace your steps back down, a dread that fills you up as the makeshift stage comes back into view, where the DJ had been just a moment ago. 
to where haechan stood, guitar on its stand, eyes already trained on yours, an expression of white hot anger on his face. 
"him? really?" 
you can still feel his touch on your arm, from how he dragged you into the bedroom. 
you're frozen on the steps. 
haechan signals to mark, ignoring the questioning looks from the members and protests from the boy as he steps off the platform, making a beeline for the stairs. his brows are furrowed, his teeth gritted as he glares at you. 
"you wanna go upstairs that bad?" he murmurs. "lead the fucking way, princess." 
he starts towards you, and you take a step back, body colliding with the door. the sound seems to ground him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down, finally turning away to sit on the bed, the space allowing you to relax just slightly.
"i thought," he starts, patiently, swallowing hard. "i thought i told you to find someone to take care of you, for your first time."  
the reminder of his words feels like a stab in your chest. "i thought you didn't care," you shoot back. 
he ignores you. "did you come here with your friends? where's jaemin?" 
what the fuck was wrong with him? "who are you to tell me what to do?" 
his lips part, but no words come out. sighing, he rubs his face with his hands, still trying to calm down. "y/n," he starts again, voice pained. "i don't want to see you get hurt."
"how do you know he would've hurt me?" 
his eyes meet yours. "did you tell him?" he asks, quietly. 
"tell him i was a virgin? yes." anger seeps into your tone, as you glare at him. "he reacted very differently from you." 
"y/n that's not a good thing!" he stands up, his voice raised. "are you that desperate to get fucked?" 
you step back in alarm, tears forming in your eyes. fear, of the situation you almost put yourself in, of the boy in front of you, makes your throat close up, and you can't help the way your body tenses. the cruelness of his words settles in a little too late, an acidic burn in your chest. 
haechan feels the tips of his fingers go numb as you start to cry, guilt flooding his mind in a way he rarely felt. his face crumples, and he does't know what to do when you curl in on yourself, every sound you make feeling like a punch to his ribs.
"i'm sorry," he whispers, reaching for you tentatively. when you don't pull away, his arms circle around you, and he makes sure to leave enough space for you to breathe or break free if you wanted to. "i'm sorry," he repeats again, as you sink into his chest, needing his warmth as much as you hated his presence. 
"take it back," you mumble. "take it back right now."
"i take it back," he says, immediately. "i didn't mean any of it. i'm sorry." 
"you don't get to reject me," you start, voice shaky, "and control who i choose to be with."
he sucks in a breath, gripping onto you a little tighter. "y/n –" 
"it's…it's fucked up," you hiccup, fisting at the fabric of his shirt, crumpling it in your fists in frustration.
"i know," he breathes. "i know." 
his hand comes up to stroke your hair, and you hate how it really does manage to comfort you, your breaths steadying as he pats your back clumsily. when you think you've calmed down enough, you place your hands on his chest, and he backs away instinctively, looking down at his feet. never meeting your eyes.
"i'm tired, haechan," you whisper. "i don't want to play whatever game you're playing." he doesn't respond, so you continue. "you don't want to fuck me, but you don't want anyone else to." 
"i do." his response is so quiet, you barely catch it.
"you want other people to fuck me?" 
"no, i don't." he lifts his head, his expression conflicted. "i…i want to be your first time." 
"what?" 
when he doesn't respond, you sigh, agitated. "haechan, i already told you i don't want to play your games anymore –" 
"not a game," he cuts you off, softly. "i'll take care of you." the gentleness of his voice makes you feel small. it's almost overwhelming, the way he looks into your eyes, without his usual apathy and bitterness. 
"i thought you said you don't do that?" it takes you all your willpower to not give in. 
"i don't," he breathes. "but with you i will." he's starting to think he has no choice – that there's no one else in the world who's going to take care of you the way he knows you need. he doesn't know when he decided to give in, in between watching you place your hand on that man's thigh, and you standing in front of him now. all he knows is that he either had to do this, or make you disappear from his life entirely. 
the words hang in the air. even now, feeling so torn and hurt and tired, your body can't help how much you want him, hyper-attuned to the little details in his appearance: the messy black nail polish scrawled on his nails, smoky eye make-up that makes his gaze all the more intense and devouring. there's a heady smell hanging onto his skin and clothes, rich and indulgent vanilla and musk, filling up your senses with a giddy desire. long legs in a pair of ripped skinny jeans, his thighs stretching out the fabric in a way that almost looked like it hurt. 
"okay," you mumble. his lips part, but you answer him before he has a chance to ask. "please take care of me." your voice is small, yet each word seems to catch fire, incinerating the air between you. 
his tongue darts out, wetting his lip. "yeah?" 
you nod. finally giving in to the pull of your body, you take a step closer, looking up at him through your lashes. 
"i'm sorry…about all of it." he murmurs. "thank you for trusting me, still." 
you can't think of anything to say, so you nod again. it feels like your heart is in your throat. 
he swallows. "do you…you shouldn't…" his eyes dart around the room. "we shouldn't do it here. in…in some strangers bedroom." gently, he touches your arm, looking at you hesitantly. "would you feel comfortable if we did it in your apartment? or i could bring you to my shared apartment with the band…they wouldn't be back yet. but we might have to be quick…"
your head feels like it's spinning. 
at your lack of response, he rambles on, eyes focused on yours, trying to discern your thoughts. "w-what do you think? or…if you really want to get comfortable i don't mind booking a hotel, it's a little last minute but-" he bites his lip. "do you want to meet somewhere else or i could take you in my car? i haven't drank much, i swear, but if you don't trust me-" 
"stop," you blurt out. 
he freezes, the hand grazing your arm dropping to his side, fingers playing with the rips in his jeans. 
"i'm sorry," he says, softly.
"no, i mean…stop asking me questions." you exhale. "i trust you," you repeat, softly. every word of it was true — despite everything, you were still the same person sitting on his lap up on the rooftop. "just…take care of me, however you want." 
he swallows. "you sound…" exhaling, he shakes his head to clear it. "okay. is your apartment empty?" 
"yes," you whisper. "jaemin's away for tonight." 
"i'll drive," he murmurs. and now he takes a step closer to you, until he's all you can see, the room melting away. "but before that…can i kiss you first, princess?" you nod, transfixed by him, as he leans in. 
haechan kisses soft. 
his lips are plush, and soft, taking your bottom lip between his own sweetly. he tilts his head slowly as if he's afraid he'll overwhelm you by moving too fast, his lips parting as he invites you to do the same, his hands going to the back of your head to guide you. a soft sigh escapes the back of his throat when your lips part and he can taste you, and you can taste him — vanilla like how he smells, with the slight bite of alcohol. your hand comes up to touch his round cheeks, surprisingly soft too, and he smiles into this kiss. 
he's the one to break apart from you, with a patience that feels rehearsed. he's taking care of you, as he leans in so your noses brush, your breaths mingling. 
"haechan…" he hums, encouragingly. "i…you know this isn't…my first kiss, right?" 
a pause. "i know," he murmurs. 
"so… so you don't have to be gentle." you squirm slightly as his touch grows heavier, eyes darkening at the implications behind your words. 
he backs away from you, hands pulling you with him as he sits down on the bed. his eyes flick down to his lap as he lowers his gaze, before dragging them painstakingly up to yours again. 
"sit, princess." 
this time, when he feels you tremble against him, your knees caging in his hips as you straddle him, all he does is lean in and kiss you — just as sweet as he did the first time. 
"i'm gentle with you because i want to be," another kiss, his tongue sliding against your bottom lip. "not because i have to." his fingers guide your chin upwards, baring your neck to him as he leans in and leaves a kiss on a spot under your jaw. and then a longer, more lingering kiss. and now he's making his way down your neck, each press of his lips on your skin longer and rougher than the last, and now you're sure he's sucking marks onto your neck, especially when you feel a slight sting of teeth. 
you're shifting against him restlessly, body hardly your own as you fall under his touch. you don't know how long you spend there, in his lap, as he works on your neck, taking breaks to kiss you on the lips, his sighs echoing into the cavern of your mouth as it falls open with need. it's when he sucks lightly on your tongue, almost boyish in the way he backs away with a small smile, when a soft sound escapes your lips. 
"yeah?" he murmurs, leaning in again, letting the tip of his tongue brush against yours gently. "you like that?" 
you nod. 
"you sound so pretty," he breathes, as he slots his lips with yours again, humming against yours as you let out another small whimper. 
"haechan-" you mumble, and he draws away, looking at you expectantly. "i think i'm ready." 
"really?" his hands on your waist give you a light squeeze. "you want me to take you home now?" 
you're still giddy from the heat radiating off his skin, your lips craving his contact again now he's stopped kissing you. you nod, and he smiles, gently guiding you off his lap as he unlocks the door. 
he's gentle the whole way down – as he leads you away from the main staircase so you wouldn't be seen, the crowd still distracted by the band. he cradles you carefully against his side all the way out of the back gates and into his car, and when your breath catches as he leans over to buckle your seatbelt for you, he's gentle even as he presses into you for a spur of the moment kiss, tongue licking into your mouth with more fervor. 
it's not a song that plays in the car as he drives and you try to remember the way to your apartment, but rather it's a low and sultry beat — bluesy harmonies stretched out over pulses. part of you wonders if he played it on purpose, because imagining his voice set against it already had you melting against the leather seats.
it would all be rather sweet – how gentle he's being, the soft way he smiles at you in the dim lights of your lift lobby, the way he holds your hand and lets you lean against him as you head higher and higher, the space around you feeling like a vacuum of trapped adrenaline and lust. 
but there was also no denying the fact that he jolted at the slightest sound, his grip on you tight and slack all at once, the tenderness in his eyes here one second and gone the next. a hurt you could almost taste on your tongue, that you were holding onto something so fragile, and that to him it seemed the worst thing that could happen would be if he were found with you.
but all of it changes, when you're alone in your room. the weight of his attention, that you'd felt even as one person amidst a screaming crowd, seems to intensify tenfold as he lets his jacket slide to the floor, eyes on you. 
he reads the apprehension in your body, the way you hover near your bed, waiting for him to guide you. 
"let me know if it's too much, okay?" he murmurs, as he pulls you in for a hug first, feeling you warm against him as you cling on to his embrace. "you can tell me to stop whenever, and i will." his hands rub circles up your waist, teasing on the silver of skin between your top and your skirt. 
you nod, but he shakes his head – a thumb brushing across your cheek. 
"use your words," he murmurs. "so i know you mean it." 
"okay," you breathe, now guiding him to the bed yourself, curiosity getting the better of you. you had almost forgotten, in the midst of everything, why exactly you went to the party, and the familiar need sparks back to life in you. 
haechan sits down against the headboard, pulling you into his lap, the movement feeling even more natural now. he can see that you're nervous and eager at the same time, hands fumbling with the soft material of his shirt, unsure what to do as you shift around on top of him. 
"can i kiss you?" in the soft lamp light of the room, the sharp-cut edges of his face seem to blur, large doe-eyes looking up at you kindly. it makes you want to lean in, so you do — slotting your lips with his boldly, kissing him the way you wanted from him. it surprises him, the way you press your lips against him harshly, the gentle graze of your teeth against his plush lip. 
he lets out a small laugh, and kisses you back just as fiercely, the atmosphere in the room melting as temperature skyrockets, until it's almost unbearable to be separated from you by layers of fabric. 
"may i-" he mumbles, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, and when your voice chokes out an affirmative, he's quick to yank it over his head, movements rough, exposing beautiful skin, his body warm and solid under your palms as you lean into him. 
your cheeks warm, and he notices – a small smile on his face as his hands cup your cheeks, and he gives you a sweet kiss, abruptly different from the others. suddenly, it's almost too tender, the way he looks up at you with endearment in his eyes, kissing you chastely, and you sink into it a little guiltily, enjoying the innocence of it. 
when you feel your heart reach its boiling point, your own hands go to the hem of your shirt, and you pull it over your head. you don't mean to slow down your movements, not meaning to tease or entice, but the way his eyes darken looking at your body made you wish you did it on purpose. 
"pretty," he praises, head dipping to press a kiss between your collarbones. and another one, lower done, almost reaching your cleavage. the bra you had chosen mindlessly that morning was a thin bralette, and it did little to hide how aroused you were, your nipples poking stiff peaks through the fabric. 
but still, he doesn't make any move to remove it, peppering kisses on your bare chest, over the slope of your breasts, almost slobbering at your skin, lips dewy and wet. his arms are firm around you, meeting each one of your movements and steadying you, helping you rock your hips into him as desire surges in your body. 
"haechan, –" his name had never sounded so breathless falling from your lips.   
"yes, baby?" 
the term of endearment makes you feel smaller in his lap, the only thing making you feel better was the way he was just as heated as you, his breaths coming hard and fast. he wanted everything to be perfect, he never wanted to rush you into anything you weren't comfortable with, his hands staying firm on your lower back. 
you tug at the bralette covering your chest impatiently, the fabric never feeling more uncomfortable on your skin. 
"you want me to take it off?" he asks, head nuzzling into your neck as his fingers wander up your back. you feel it loosen around you, his finger expertly fiddling the clasp open, dragging it down and accidentally brushing against your hard nipples, making you hiss.
"i'll make you feel good," he promises, softly, lowering his head, kissing down the slope of your breasts. he makes eye contact with you, searching your eyes for any form of discomfort.
"be gentle," you murmur, nodding for him to continue. "they feel sensitive." 
"of course," he mumbles, before starting to lightly kitten-lick at your nipple, the feeling all at once new and arousing, making you pulse against him in his lap. he circles his tongue around your areola, being as gentle as possible, opting not to flick at your nipples but rather suck one into his mouth, heart-shaped full lips sinful against your chest. the heat between your legs is overwhelming, as he switches to your other side, his hand coming up to knead your breast, warm palms moving over skin and making you giddy. 
"please," you whimper, as he laps at you. "please, i need you, please –" 
"you have me," he murmurs, one of his hands reaching out for yours blindly, scrabbling against the back of your hand from where it's pressed against his chest, flipping it over and interlocking your fingers. "i'll take care of you. lie down for me?"
he moves you off his lap, guiding you onto your back, propping up pillows you can rest against. the familiar feeling of your bed is only faintly there, your senses filled with the sweet heady smell of haechan, from the perfume and lotion clinging onto his skin, as you watch him remove the numerous rings on his fingers, placing them carefully on your bedside table. 
haechan kisses his way down your body, suckling on your skin, leaving longer, lingering bruises on your hips, finally reaching your thighs as he lowers himself down. he guides your hips up with a heavy hand, sliding a cushion carefully under as he situates himself between your legs. you're so sensitive, that the feeling of his long hair against your skin has your thighs sliding together, squeezing around his head accidentally. 
"you okay?" he murmurs, as he kisses your thighs again, patiently easing your thighs open. 
you suddenly feel shy, knowing he was about to see you so intimately. even when you had agreed to let him take care of you, even as you trusted him completely, you had never imagined seeing him in between your spread legs like this, somewhere you hadn't even explored much yourself. would he be disappointed or disgusted? what if he didn't like what he saw or felt? 
"baby…." he rubs a hand carefully on your thigh, tips of his fingers slipping just under the hem of your skirt. "is this okay? do you want to stop?" 
"i don't want to stop," you admit, and you find that its true. 
haechan looks at you, studying your face. after a moment, he crawls back up your body, brushing the hair out of your eyes before he brushes his lips against yours softly, as if asking for permission. you grant it, lips parting as his warm mouth meets yours, a welcome taste in your mouth that's become familiar. you kiss for a while, his hand finding yours in the mess of sheets and intertwining your fingers, until you feel confident enough to slip your other hand to the zipper of your skirt. 
you tug it off your legs, haechan breaking away from the kiss to help you, moving down your body. 
"i'll take care of you," he whispers, his hand never letting go of yours. "these are so pretty, baby," he whispers, a finger tracing over the lacy pattern on the front of your panties. you've never been more aware of your own arousal seeping out of you, as he places a kiss low on your hip, and then another just on the waistband of your panties, and suddenly, you want nothing more than for them to come off. 
your fingers tug at them impatiently, and he takes hold of your hand, kissing your fingertips lightly. "let me," he murmurs, and you hear something low and raw in his voice, something that maybe wasn't there before. sitting up slightly, he pulls your panties down your legs, assuming his position as quickly as he'd left it once the fabric was out of the way, rearranging your legs so they're spread open for him. 
the tension in the room fills your lungs up like smoke. you barely mumble his name, beg him to do something, before you feel a soft touch against your clit, making your hips jolt and you let out a sharp exhale. 
"let me hear you," he encourages, gently, as he starts to rub circles into your sensitive nub, dipping down to your entrance and spreading your wetness all over your cunt. your hips keep shifting around, so he pulls his arm around to press down into you, keeping you still for him as he slowly pleasures you.
"t-this feels…" you start, lost in your own head. you've touched yourself before, but the sensitivity seemed to be heightened to an exaggerated amount once it was someone else touching you. he looks up at you, face still wickedly beautiful, the gentlest look in his eyes laced with something like desperation.
"can't believe i got so lucky," he murmurs, suckling a kiss close to your heat, high on the soft skin of your thigh. your legs clamp around his head, and it makes him groan, breath heavy against your cunt. "you're pretty everywhere, baby. can't believe i'm the only one." 
the words flood your veins with a dark thrill, the idea of being his, of him taking all your firsts. "hypocrite," you mumble, cutting yourself off with a moan as he applies more pressure to your clit. 
"maybe a little," he admits, shyly, as he dips his head back down and flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, his fingers sliding down to your entrance instead. 
you cry out at the foreign feeling, the wet muscle of his tongue stroking your clit expertly while his slender finger slips past your entrance. his name, strung along by curses, echoes from your mouth as he teases his finger in and out of your entrance, tongue lying flat and wide as he laps at your clit in a way that made you feel like you were already close. 
stiffening his tongue, his flicks your clit with the tip, humming into you just as he curls his finger against your walls in a come-hither motion. he knows when you cum — back arching as you seemed to chase for stimulation above you, your walls sucking tightly around his finger and kneading it eagerly, making him groan as he imagines the feeling of you tight around his cock. he lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, his nose bumping your clit and eliciting another drawn out whimper, tongue teasing your entrance. 
when your hands push at his head, he backs away easily, once again making his way up your body to check on you, the warmth of his bare chest against yours making you feel safe. 
"good?" he kisses you, tongue moving against yours, inviting you to take a taste. "did you like that, sweetheart?" 
you nod, gasping. "haechan…"
"you did perfect for me, baby." his hands run up and down your sides as he kisses down your neck, enjoying the way your body wraps yourself around him, arms pulling his weight down into you. 
"i still need you," you murmur. the pleasure from before had only satiated you for a little bit, and the feeling of his hard length poking at your thigh was making your head spin with a whole different level of desire, as you grapple for his belt. "please, i've been good-" 
"you're perfect." he comforts you with a kiss. 
he guides your hand away from him gently, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants slide onto the bed as you lie back down on your pillows. tugging his underwear down, you swallow as he squeezes his thick length, the pink tip leaking clear liquid. he watches you watch him spread it on his length, pumping himself slowly, drawing out the pleasure as he moans, a sweet tenor sound that rings lewdly in the air. you watch, mesmerized, as he thrusts his hips forward a few times, stroking himself with a slight twist of his wrist before letting go abruptly, letting his cock slap up against his lower stomach. 
fishing around in the pocket of his discarded jeans, he takes out a condom wrapper, opening it quickly and rolling it onto his cock. you're sure you're making a mess of the sheets, you can feel your arousal and his saliva on your thighs, can feel another gush of wetness seep out of you as he lowers himself over your body and slides his cock against your folds. 
he grinds himself on you, hoping to get you wetter so it may be less painful when he enters you. his fingers find your clit again, this time he rubs it urgently, with just the correct amount of pressure to have you shaking and lifting your hips into him. 
"stop me anytime," he reminds you, as he lines himself up to your fluttering entrance. "you have to relax for me, baby." he pitches his voice lower now, and you can't tell if he's comforting you or if he's slowly being pulled under by lust too. he makes soft shushing noises, nipping at your lips with gentle kisses as you whimper, feeling the bulbous tip of his cock slowly stretch you open, his fingers resuming his movements. the head of his cock still feels shallow inside you, when it suddenly brushes against a sensitive spot, and his fingers on your clit glide just right, making you cum, hard. he feels you clamp down tightly around his tip, and he hisses, eyes squeezed shut. his mind wiped clean for just a second as pleasure thrums through his entire body, an aching pain that makes his mouth hang open.
"'m sorry," you whimper, tears prickling to your eyes as you interpret his expression as annoyance. "i'm so sorry, it just felt so good —" 
"baby…" he looks at you, his face morphing into panic when he sees the tears in your eyes. "don't apologise, please, you have nothing to be sorry for." 
you still look unconvinced, so he reaches for one of your hands, holding it in his and kissing your fingertips. "you are so pretty when you cum," the filthy words sound sacred the way he says them. "and you felt so fucking good around my cock," he murmurs, voice sinking low again.
you begin to relax again, sniffling slightly as you adjust your legs around his waist, feeling him slide a little deeper into you. he coaxes you into taking more of him, kissing you sweetly as he slips in further and further, until finally the both of you are groaning, his body shuddering slightly against yours as he feels your warm gummy walls tight around him. 
"so tight," he groans, cursing again under his breath as he circles his hips, drawing a moan from you as your thighs tense. "how are you so tight?," he panted, tone still teasing despite him trying desperately not to buck his hips into you. "has no one ever fucked you before or something?" 
you don't have it within you to tease back. 
"only you, haechan." the words are reverent, hushed. it strips him of any of his cockiness, his teasing, his boldness — his features softening at the way you look up at him, trying to maintain eye contact even as the ache between your legs drove you insane, not wanting to waste a single moment of this, in case it never happened again. 
"haechan…" your nails rake against his back, drawing him out of his daze. "please fuck me." 
"fuck," he breathes, as he slowly starts to move in you, obsessed with the way the words sound in your voice. his thick length drags against your walls, heavy inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal seeping into the room. you feel full and stretched out, sated by having him so close to you, it feels like you can feel him deep in your gut the way he's thrusting into you, especially when he hikes your legs higher on his waist, drawing a long moan from you as he manages to stimulate a spot inside you that has you seeing stars. 
he changes his pace, now barely pulling himself out of you as he nudges the head of his cock against your sweet spot. licking a long stripe from your neck up to your ear, one hand tangles itself with yours, while the other ghosts over your sensitive nipples. 
"i'm cumming," the words come out rushed as you barely hold onto your senses, cumming harshly for the third time, your body thrown into pleasure as your muscles tense. he succumbs to the feeling of your walls kneading his length and squeezing tight around him, eyes going unfocused and hazy as his lips part, a moan drawn out from his lungs without conscious thought. he's aware of the way your muscles tense as he fucks both of you through your highs, relishing in the sting of your fingernails on his back as he slows down his movements. he draws out both your highs by leaning in and sucking on the mark he'd left behind earlier that evening, letting his moan buzz and fizzle on your skin. 
you feel dazed and tired, arms never letting go of him, legs unwilling to unwrap from his waist as you cling to him. he rolls you both onto your sides, caressing your body sweetly and stroking your hair, mumbling questions and concerns that you can't register, nodding to everything in a blur. the weight of him feels good, his body warm and solid against your back, and once again that feeling of safety, that feeling of complete trust, washes over you. it makes you feel whole even as he pulls out of you with a wince, discarding the condom in the trash by your bedside. 
you cling to him, and he knows you need it — so he doesn't let you go, heavy hands patting your back clumsily, slightly rough and out of rhythm, just like the way your heart beats against your ribcage.
when he feels your arms loosen, relaxing finally after the high of hormones and adrenaline, he slips away quickly to the bathroom, putting on his underwear as he goes. he grabs a towel, turning your tap on to warm water and checking the temperature with his wrist as he washes his hands, his face, cleaning himself up. running the towel under the water and squeezing it dry in the sink. his movements methodical, as he slips out of your room and into the kitchen, looking around for a glass of water. 
he immediately races back the moment he hears a sound from your bedroom, shutting the door behind him just as you sit up, your expression clearing once you see him again. pulling his shirt from where it's discarded on the floor, he slides into bed, kissing you on the cheek. 
he cleans you up with soft strokes, the warm towel soothing on your skin even though he hadn't really been rough. he makes you drink from the glass of water, watching you drain it carefully. finally, slipping his large shirt over your frame, swallowing at the way it envelopes your body, a feeling stirring in his gut that he ignores. 
"y/n? are you with me?" when you don't respond, wide eyes looking up at him, he touches his fingers to your cheek. "baby?" 
each brush of his skin against yours felt like trails of fire, lingering warmth even after he pulls away. every look he gave you through his lashes, the slight pout to his lips when he broke away from a kiss, made you feel like you were caught in a riptide, your pulse out of your control. you wanted to crawl into him and make a home in his chest. you never wanted him to look at you again with his shuttered eyes, to have to dream yourself into the skin of someone else as he touched them. 
you had to tell him. "haechan…haechan i…" you reach for him, and he pulls you into his embrace, shushing you softly. you try to speak again, lips parting, but he envelopes your lips in a gentle kiss, nipping at your mouth each time you part, swallowing all your sounds with the sweep of his tongue. 
"princess…" his voice sounds raw, and coarse. "don't say anything you don't mean." 
"but-" 
"you don't know me." was it regret in his voice, or your wishful thinking? "you don't know me at all. what you're feeling right now…" he touches a hand to your chest, brushing a kiss on your cheek. "it's because of the sex, alright?" 
you shake your head. 
your next words come out slurred, your eyelids starting to droop as sleep begins to tug at your mind, threatening to pull you under. "but…why can't i know you?"  
he takes a deep breath. "i don't want you to."
"but i don't want this to end." 
he holds you tighter against his chest at your words. 
"this?" he questions, quietly. he keeps his voice light, but it still pierces your heart like a shard of glass. "there isn't a 'this' princess. this isn't happening again." 
"why?" 
"i don't want you to get attached." he cradles you even more carefully against him, freckling mellow kisses onto your forehead, the contrast between his words and his actions ringing dissonant in your ears. "besides… why would i spend the night with the same girl twice, hm?"
sleep softens the hurt from the words he's saying. his voice fades slightly, his touch against your skin roaring ever louder in your ears. "you know i won't be here when you wake up, right?" his fingers brush against your forehead lightly, pushing hair away from your eyes. 
you knew. 
but you still cried in the morning all the same — the golden-orange sunrise beautiful and terribly cruel, just like the boy you were perhaps falling in love with. 
you spend the weekend alone. 
you spend the weekend wondering if haechan thought of you at all, after he left. thinking if what he said was real, and it was just adrenaline and lust, then why did your heart ache at the thought of him? at his face on posters outside the small concert venue, inviting you to a show next week? why did you always turn at the slightest hint of his voice? 
you try to forget him. you try to tell yourself he wasn't worth it. but deep down all of it, a part of you still hopes, which is perhaps why you were letting jaemin drag you past the poster of haechan, into the alleyway that led backstage.
"are you sure you need me there?" you pull at jaemin's sleeve, your other hand holding onto his spare camera carefully as he guides you into the venue.  
"i do," he insists, pushing through a set of doors leading to the stage. "mark wants extra photos for their social media page and i can't be doing all of that at once." 
you can hear the boys talking just around one of the curtains, sprawled out onstage, a cacophany of sounds as they absentmindedly plucked at their instruments. you were going to see haechan again. you can't tell if it makes you want to run towards them, or go back home. that familiar sense of hope, the kind you experienced in the crowd that first night, on the balcony, in the bedroom and in the moonlight, fills you up slowly, sweet and light. maybe, if he just saw you again…
"y/n-" jaemin puts a hand on your arm, stopping you gently before you could rush onto stage. 
"yes?" you prompt. 
"i know i dragged you here, but if you're feeling uncomfortable," he starts, and you start to slip away, but he only tightens his grip. "let me finish — if you're feeling uncomfortable, or if any of them are hurting you, let me know okay?" 
you hadn't told him about haechan, something close to shame seeming to rise up and choke you whenever you tried to bring it up. all jaemin knew was that the last two times you had come into contact with the band it had upset you badly, and as your best friend and roommate he never wanted to see you crying on the balcony again. 
"what would you do? beat them up?" 
"i would leave." his serious tone doesn't change, unaffected by your attempt to lighten the mood. 
"but the money –" 
"no job is more important than you being okay," he insists. "i don't want to work for them if they hurt you. okay?" 
"okay." 
even though he looks unconvinced, his grip on your arm loosens and he takes your hand instead, pulling back the curtain with his other. 
you can hear him say something to mark about today's shoot, hear him greet the rest of the members. you guess that mark is rising to greet him, hear something like jisung and jeno standing too, but everything fades to white noise when the sight you're looking at clicks in your mind, the one member of the band who's voice you hadn't heard, who hadn't bothered to turn around at jaemin's arrival.
or rather, the one boy who was too pre-occupied to — considering he had his tongue in a pretty girl's mouth. 
haechan was facing away from you, away from the rest of his bandmates, you could really only see his broad back under his denim jacket, but the careful tilt of his head as he kissed her was all too familiar, as was the movement of his arms around her waist. and when she shifted in his lap, his hands pulling her hips down unto his, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears, a sharp pain searing at your chest in emotions you couldn't pinpoint. 
"fuck, sorry about that –" mark's voice is flustered, and now a tall boy, the bassist, jisung, is stepping in front of you, blocking your view of him. 
"sorry," he echoes, and you're momentarily caught off guard by how deep his voice is - husky and quiet. you blink up at him, fog slowly clearing in your mind, and he smiles shyly. "he doesn't usually do that." 
"who?" 
"um, haechan…" he looks back briefly, and you see haechan helping the girl to her feet, her body crumpled into his like she couldn't bear to be separated from his touch. you feel a wave of second-hand shame again – was that what you had looked like? 
and then jisung turns back to you, towering over you again and blocking everything from view. "he usually only does this after the show, but today…" 
"it's fine," you say, faintly. 
jisung looks at you, carefully. "you're jaemin's friend y/n, right?" 
you nod, half your mind still on what could be going on right now. behind jisung, you see mark pull haechan, now alone, towards a corner of the stage, whispering angrily at him. haechan is slouched lazily, picking at his nails with all the look of someone who couldn't care less about what was going on. 
"i saw you at our last show," jisung continues. "i was going to…i was going…" he breaks off, a little embarrassed, fumbling with his words. "are you sure you're okay?" 
"i'm fine, jisung." you repeat, your voice a little more firm, as you finally look back at him.
he blinks. "you know me?" 
jisung still looked worried, but there was something sweet about the way he shrunk a little under your attention, eyes darting all over your face and around his surroundings, blush tinging his cheeks.
this you were comfortable with – something completely different from the way haechan's eyes always tried to drink you in, or the way your vision would go blurry at the edges when he would stand in front of you. talking with jisung was easy, the confidence that haechan drained from you seeping back and settling in. 
he had meant it, when he said you shouldn't get attached. you just had to learn it before it brought you more hurt you couldn't justify.
"jisung," you emphasise. "of course i know you. you play bass, right?" 
"y-yeah," he stammers, pointing unecessarily at his dark blue bass guitar on its stand. "i don't know, i guess i always thought people didn't really know me even if they knew the band." he fiddles with the hem of his shirt, black hair falling over his eyes. "people usually choose to stand where haechan or mark are." 
"you usually stand on the left?" 
he nods, bashfully, and a smile tugs at your lips. 
"i'll make sure to stand there, later during the show." 
"wow, okay." he pauses for a moment, steeling himself. "how about after?" 
"what do you mean?" 
"would you want to meet…after the show?" he hesitates, voice soft. 
your brow furrows slightly. "do you mean the party?" 
"we don't have to go," he blurts out. "i don't mean…i don't mean like what haechan usually does after the show."  
his name is an unwelcome sting, but the way jisung sneaks glances up at you from where he looks down at his feet makes it a little easier to forget. "then what do you want to do?" 
"w-we can get something to eat." he says it like he just suggested robbing a bank. 
oh. "like a date?" 
mortified, his lips part, and you can tell that he's frantically trying to read your tone, trying to figure out if the idea of it made you uncomfortable, whether you were suggesting because you wanted it. it's so endearing, watching him start his sentences and stop them, the hem of his shirt crumpled and worn out by his nervous fingers. 
eventually, he takes a deep breath, and settles for a question. "d-do you mind if it's a date?" 
did you? 
was there any hope in waiting for haechan, when he had made it so clear that you would never have him again?
jisung is still looking at you like you have all the power in the world to hurt him. 
"i don't mind," you say, softly, feeling a hum of satisfaction in your chest at the way it makes his lips part in blissful surprise. a beat. "do you want it to be…?" 
"yes," he blurts out. "please," he adds, shyly. 
the awkward silence between the two of you feels good, the lightness of it familiar and giddy, like a schoolgirl crush. jisung can't stop smiling, biting his lips slightly as he turns to face mark, who's crossed to the front of the stage to speak to them. 
" — jisung, jaemin will start with your photos first. we'll just be shooting the rehearsal process today, so there's no need to-" he breaks off, brow furrowing. "jisung why are you so red?" 
"i-it's w-warm in here." 
"well you should cool off before jaemin takes your photos." jisung nods, flustered, and he walks offstage with jaemin to prepare. jeno too, strolls away with a wave to mark, leaving him alone at the front of the stage. 
with you. 
mark glances over at you, his eyes darting over your face, trying to read your expression. you can almost hear haechan's voice from that night, the ghost of the hurt still palpable in your bones. but the moment you take a step back, thinking that you should find jaemin and jisung, mark seems to have made up his mind — his face set, he starts to walk over to you, and you find your own footsteps falter.
"um, y/n, can i speak to you for a second?" 
you take a deep breath. "is this about the photos for later?" 
"no…not exactly." he clears his throat. there's a pause, as he seems to pick his words. "y/n, did i do something wrong?" 
you blink at him. "what do you mean?"
"i mean, i know it was a while ago, but i thought we were getting along fine at the party," it feels like he's rehearsed this to some capacity, or perhaps it was just the confidence of being a lead singer. "but then since then every time i saw you…i feel like you've been avoiding me." 
"i haven't been avoiding you." you take a deep breath. "mark, do you have a girlfriend?" 
his eyes widen. "are you…are you asking me out?"
"what?" you balk. "no!" 
"oh." his face falls. "i mean…i just thought…"
"that's just too bad, markie." 
it’s practically deja vu.
haechan stands behind you, his body radiating warmth, and you inhale sharply. surprisingly, he doesn't smell saccharine, the way he always does with the girls he chooses — his skin smells like baby powder and fresh linen. your body is doing that thing again – where you hone in on his presence and the whole world dissolves, and you're hyper attuned to the way his arm hovers near yours, his breath on the back of your neck. anything you were about to say to mark completely lost in your brain. 
exasperated, mark runs his hand through his hair. "haechan…don't be difficult." 
"i'm not." you feel almost numb when his hand touches your elbow, sliding down to hold your hand tight in his grip. "y/n and i have to talk about something." 
"can't it wait?" 
"it's urgent," haechan says, sarcastically, giving you a sharp tug towards him. your feet stumble as haechan starts to walk off, and you turn one last time to see mark standing there, looking a little forlorn, suddenly small under the bright lights of the stage. 
"sorry, –" you mumble out. mark frowns, starting towards you. 
but now haechan really pulls you along, yanking curtains aside and accessing a short flight of stairs. you can feel the intensity of his emotions radiating off him in waves, making it a little hard to breathe as you try to keep up, afraid of what he'll say if your hand slips from his grasp. 
he guides you along a corridor and through a doorway, stepping into the warm light of a dressing room, the door slamming shut behind you as haechan pulls you in. 
you're almost afraid to look at him, but you do anyway. 
he's slightly breathless from the walk down, stooping slightly to lock the door with careful hands. when he straightens and steps towards you, the lights hitting his features, you can see that he's covered up the hickeys on his neck with makeup. something mark made him do, no doubt. 
"haechan -" 
"park jisung? really?" he sneers, backing you into the dressing table. 
 "what?" 
"don't lie to me," he demands. "i saw you." 
"really?" you fold your arms across your chest as he moves in closer, planting both hands on the table on either side of your hips, caging you in. "you looked busy. where did she go, hm? did mark send her away, or did you?" 
haechan rolls his eyes. "that's none of your business." 
"jisung said you don't usually bring girls to the rehearsal," you continue, watching the way his tongue pokes into his cheek in annoyance. "what happened?" 
"you two talked about me?" he demands. "what else did you do? make plans to fuck after the show?" 
"i'm not a virgin anymore," you remind him, your voice laced with a warning. "i thought you only cared about my first time." 
haechan groans. seeing you talk to jisung out of the corner of his eye, seeing your hands brush and his friend's head duck shyly to the side, gave him a weight on his chest which grew heavier each time he took a breath, each time he had to hear one of jisung's small laughs. 
"if you want to have mediocre sex then i couldn't care less," he snaps. "just know that you're going to have to fuck a lot of people before you forget me." 
you can see that you're losing him, the familiar closed-off look coming back to his face, anger dissapating into indifference. 
"what is there to forget?" you ask, hurt and anger making your voice shake. 
haechan is staring at you, his face now so close to yours if you leaned in just slightly your lips would brush. 
"you don't mean that," he says, quietly. 
and just like that, all the fight drains out of you. 
"haechan, jisung just wants to take me out on a date." his features tense, and he bites his lower lip harshly. "would you ever ask me out on a date, haechan?" 
he doesn't respond.
"would you?" 
"i told you," he breathes. "i don't do that." 
"you told me you didn't want to be my first time, and you took it back," you remind him, quietly. 
"that's different." you can't help the disappointment that wells up inside you, and you know he can see it from the way his face falls too. 
"don't look at me like that, princess." he sinks into your touch easily, warmth once again circling your body.  
you don't know if you wished haechan was a liar, or if you wished he wasn't. if he was telling the truth about everything, it would be easier to let go of him, to walk away from someone who could only cause you pain, from someone who played with you over and over again. 
but maybe if he was lying it would all make sense – the way he said he didn't want you and yet kept showing up, the jealousy and the conflict in his voice, all of it would have some sort of plausible reason, one that would mean that maybe he cared for you. 
"i don't want to do this anymore," you mumble, hands placed on his chest. you only push at him lightly, but he backs off all the way to the opposite wall, your words feeling like salt in his wounds. "i can't do this with you, haechan."
"y/n-"
"you have a show soon," you mumble, turning around to look in the mirror. you comb your hair with your fingers, trying to calm yourself down. behind you, haechan's eyes flash with frustration, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together as he looks up at your reflection. 
"i'm trying to talk to you." 
"are you?" it's a genuine question, and it makes him falter, a response half-formed on his lips. when it's clear he won't finish his thought, you close your eyes. 
"you need to go," you say again, quietly.  
"will you be there?" 
you don’t respond, and he repeats himself, urgently. 
"will you be there? at the show?" 
"i will," you say, hesitantly. 
"i'll see you then." his voice is controlled, and steady. somehow it feels like the calm before the storm. 
but before you can turn around to try to talk to him, persuade him to calm down, ask him what's wrong, he's already left the room, the sound of his heeled boots echoing down the hall. 
"is everything okay?" 
"why are they taking so long?" 
"are they late?" 
unease settles in the pit of your stomach as you stand in the crowd, the voices all around you whispering anxiously. it had been 15 minutes since the show was scheduled to start — but the lights on the stage were dim, and the pre-show playlist had just restarted for the second time. you had situated yourself on the left side of the stage, where jisung usually stood, and you bounced on your toes, hoping that everything was alright backstage so jisung could come out and see that you had kept your promise. 
and then there's a low rumble, as lights finally flood the venue, the crowd sighing with relief as jeno and mark appear – jeno waving at the crowd, his drumsticks in one hand, while mark smiles reassuringly, walking over to the mic and checking that it's at the correct height. he apologizes lightly for the delay, looking to the side of the stage nervously as he murmurs a quick introduction of the band into the mic.
haechan strides onto stage, electric guitar slung around his neck, as the crowd's screams reach an all-time high. he stops abruptly at the left side of the stage, right in front of where you stood, nodding at the crowd and cocking his head from side to side, as if preparing for a fight. he keeps his face level as his eyes find yours, that same burning intensity you felt in the dressing room unwavering as he held your gaze.
and then jisung appears, footsteps faltering where haechan stood, the grip on his bass going slack.
"haechan." jisung's voice is soft, you can barely hear it from where you stand so close to the stage. you can tell that the crowd behind has no clue what's going on, but some fans are looking at each other confusedly, pointing at the two boys, and the position on mark's left where haechan usually stood, now empty. 
"yes?" haechan's not looking at jisung, fingers running phantom chords up and down the fret board. 
"w-why are you standing here?" jisung whispered, embarrassment evident in his tone. "aren't you supposed to be on mark's left?" 
haechan's eyes briefly flick up to yours. "not today." 
distressed, jisung makes a sound. "haechan." guilt fills up your lungs like smoke, making it difficult to breathe, a twist in your chest as jisung looks over at you, lost. 
"run along, jisung," haechan murmurs, softly. "don't want to keep the fans waiting." 
mark, not wanting to draw attention to them, keeps smiling at the crowd, starting to ask them a few questions. jisung only tries a few more times, haechan resolutely ignoring him, before finally accepting defeat, casting his eyes over to you — his gaze wounded and confused, as he walks off with his bass. he assumes haechan's position, and the crowd cheers encouragingly. the boy manages a smile. 
when mark starts to introduce the first song, haechan finally looks up, a faint smile playing on his lips as his eyes lock with yours again. just like the day you met. 
and just like the day you met, you felt yourself fall under his spell, yet again. 
"haechan, i think we —" you gasp out, in between the kisses that haechan is pressing to your lips. 
he gives a non-committal hum, his legs framing your body as he holds you close to his chest. his lips are warm and soft, tasting slightly of cherries, as he opens you up little by little, chaste kisses turning into open-mouthed ones, his tongue darting out and gently licking into your mouth in a way that was intoxicating. 
you grip onto his arm harshly, trying to ground yourself, and he inhales sharply, breaking away. 
"haechan –" you pant. "we should-" 
but then he's kissing you again, smothering your words with his lips and his tongue. his hands rub at your lower back, guiding your movements as you shift against him, his hips grinding upwards almost lazily. 
"jisung, –" you start, but now he gives a groan, rumbling through his chest almost like a roar. slumped back against the car door, he glares at you, touching the corner of his wet mouth with his thumb.
"you did not just fucking say my bandmates name while you're on me." 
"we should apologize to jisung," your words come out in a rush. 
"for?" he catches the look on your face, and rolls his eyes. "fine," he mumbles. "i'll talk to him." leaning up towards you, he starts to pepper kisses down your jaw, sucking a little harder on the mark he had left before. "kiss me?" he mumbles, and you have to stop yourself from caving in. 
"haechan," you press on, as haechan licks boldly at your collarbone. "haechan –"
"keep saying my name," he murmurs, hands roaming up your shirt, teasing over the clasp of your bra. 
"mark, —" 
"fuck." breaking away agian, haechan tips his head back, lips stretched out and puffy as he tongued his cheek. "you want me jealous princess? is that it? because it's fucking working –" 
"haechan, we keep hurting people." you place both hands on his chest, trying to calm him down. 
"what?" 
"today we hurt mark too. although, i don't really know why–" you break off, thinking about how he looked as he tried to follow after you and haechan. how jisung's cheeks burned red as he walked across the stage. "haechan, they're your friends." 
"you wanna hurt jeno too?" he raises his eyebrows, his own hands now mindlessly scraping against yours. "you can lead him on, and then we can fuck while he watches. although he'll probably like that –" 
again, he takes in the way you frown. "fine. sorry. jeez." 
"i don't want to hurt people because of us," you say, softly. 
"well," he exhales. "they're only hurt because they can't have you, princess." he tucks your hair behind your ear from where its come loose. "there's nothing we can do, hm?"
you shake your head. "you're not being fair," you whisper. 
"how so?" his hands slide down. there's something possessive in the drag of his palms, the way he squeezes your waist. 
"you don't call me yours…but you also don't let them near me." your voice is small, but it rings loud in the silence of the car all the same. the streets outside were empty and deserted, and you think you can hear your heart beating in the still air as your palms stay pressed on his firm chest. "haechan…i need you to choose."  
it's a long time before haechan responds. he's tired from the show and all the adrenaline, you can feel it in his slow breathing, in the way his eyes blink slowly up at you like an afterthought. but his eyes are what give it away – his gaze is sharp and calculative as his eyes roam your body, his touches not quite as drowsy as he appears, fingers tingling against skin. 
you wait, your heart in your throat. you wait and you hope. 
his full lips part, his eyes meeting yours. 
"so…this is our last time together?" 
of course that's his choice. the disappointment spreads like cold, an ache deep in your bones. "if that's what you choose." your voice is flimsy. "haechan, —" but nothing leaves your mouth, just a wounded sound. everything rushing up inside you like a waves breaking over the shore, memories flooding your senses. 
the hurt on mark's face. haechan's hands on your skin. the blush that burned at jisung's skin as he watched haechan pull you to his car, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. haechan's lips against your ear as he held you. 
"shhh," his arms hold you against his chest, smoothing down your spine as he comforts you as if you were a baby, you clinging on tight to him as if he were going to disappear. "it's okay," he murmurs. "we'll just have to make it count, hm?" gently, he guides your face out of his chest, relieved when he realizes that you're not crying yet, at least. kissing your cheek gently, he brushes his thumb against the apples of your cheeks. "are you alright? do you want me to take you home?" 
"s-stop it." you manage to steady your breathing enough to repeat yourself. "stop being gentle with me, haechan. stop leading me on." 
"stop getting hurt," he replies, a little teasing, but his tone aches. 
"kiss me?" 
this time you do, letting him guide your movements, as he pulls you down into his body as if he were trying to pull you all the way through him. 
his kisses are slow and sweet, tilting his head almost shyly, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as he leans up into you. his tongue carefully slides over your bottom lip, before he's nudging your lips apart with his own again, tongue gently moving over yours, pulling away with a small smile when you chase after him, tongue stuck out slightly, chasing the warmth of his mouth. 
"cute," he mumbles, and you pull your shirt up over your head just so he won't see the way your cheeks burn in the dark. 
his movements become a little more urgent as he unclasps your bra, letting it slide to the floor of his car as he surges towards you. his lips begin to suck marks onto your chest, hands now squeezing your soft breasts, mapping your body indulgently. his tongue licks slowly around your right nipple, before giving it a gentle flick with his tongue, your body shifting restlessly against him as it sends a wave of arousal down to your core. he hugs you against him to steady your movements, lapping at your nipples and guiding each roll of your hips down into his. 
your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him away from you. before you can tell him to stop teasing, he's kissed you again — placating. sweet like he knew everything you were about to say, before you even said it. 
you raise your hips as his hands smooth over the pleats of your skirt, before flipping the soft material upwards. you hadn't worn anything special, not having the courage to, but the way he looked at your simple white panties, thumb running carefully over the pink bow in the middle of the waistband, made you feel warm all over. you hurry to pull them off, just to break the moment, but he catches them right before you tug them off your ankle. 
"can i keep these?" his doe-eyes blink up at you. you can see the brown in his irises, almost gold in the light. you nod, and he lets out a laugh, kissing you through his smile as his fingers wander up your thighs. 
he starts with slow circles on your clit, stroking the nub gently, feeling the way your hips shift at the feeling. when he speeds up his motions, fingers teasing along your slit and catching at your entrance a few times, your hips begin to pick up a steady rhythm, rocking into his hand. 
"do you just want to cum like this?" he asks kindly, placing a bit more pressure on the tips of his fingers. he wants to be inside you badly, his erection almost painful from the lack of contact, but he knew that it might do more for him than it did for you.
this was how he wanted you to be taken care of for your first time, for your second time — this is why he didn't want you to slip away from him into rooms with men who wouldn't know what you needed, wouldn't care what you wanted.
or at least — it's what he tells himself to keep him sane. 
"'m close," you mumble, your movements uncoordinated, neediness driving your hips into his hand, pleasure that you didn't quite know how to handle. "feels so empty, haechan, please –" 
he slows down his movements, a hand sliding over your waist to rub at your lower back, eliciting a warm sound from you that radiates into his chest. he slides a finger into your tight entrance, feeling the way you tense around him, slowly slipping the finger in and out, curling against your walls carefully. his thumb comes up to press your clit, and you inhale sharply as the pressure in your abdomen builds. 
"more…" 
"baby, you're doing so well," he praises. freckling careful kisses on your neck to distract you, you feel another finger catch against your entrance, his hand breaking its rhythm to carefully slide in, stretching your hole out even more. with a lewd suck on the base of your neck, he curls both fingers against your walls, a slick finger slipping on your clit, and you feel yourself crash headfirst into your high, thighs clamping around his hand in sensitivity as you moan. he murmurs praises against your ear, kissing your jaw sweetly between each one. 
he removes his hand from your core with a wet sound, and you drop down into his lap, feeling weak at the knees even though you weren't standing. he lets out a groan, feeling your wetness and warmth through his jeans, and he can feel his cock twitch under the fabric. but still, he waits until your breathing evens out, using his cleaner hand to stroke at your sides, humming lightly under his breath, the reassuring sound filling the car. his breaths sync with yours as you come down from your high, and together you let out a shaky exhale. 
"do you mind?" he asks, quietly, hands going to his belt slowly, trying not to startle you. "we don't have to have sex. i just really need to take care of this now…" you nod, flustered, crawling backwards down his legs, and he leans forward to kiss the crown of your hair. against the soft sounds of your breathing, the sound of him unbuckling his belt, letting it drop into the shadows, and the rustle of fabric as he tugged his jeans and underwear down as much as he could, were endlessly arousing. you felt yourself begin to pulse with need again, your thighs squeezing together when he pulls out his cock, thick and heavy against his palm, the tip blushy and leaking. 
he gives himself a tentative stroke, spreading pre-cum over his length before squeezing the base and hissing at the feeling as he tries to stop from cumming too soon. as if in a trance, you reach out towards him, your hand curiously wrapping around his shaft. he groans, low, as you give him a tentative stroke, although the sound is cut off by a high whimper when your fingers rub the head of his cock, silky under your fingertips. 
"baby, you don't have to –" he's cut off by another moan as you squeeze his length, applying more pressure as you stroke. "fuck, jus' like that," he mumbles, weakly, as you twist your wrist a little on a downstroke, palm slippery with pre-cum. after a few more strokes, watching haechan's head loll this way and that, twisting with pleasure, you pay more attention to his tip, thumbing just under it, fingers rubbing his slit. haechan's hips are restless, thrusting into your hand, his body shaking and the muscles on his abdomen clenched tight. you give him a few more strokes, and his whines fill up the car, raspy and sinful in a way that made you crave him even more. 
mimicking his movements, you slide your hand back down to his base and squeeze. he blinks hazily up at you, lips still parted, panting breathlessly. 
"baby…" 
"i need you," your voice feels broken, desire pulsing through each syllable. "please haechan," you add, as he swallows harshly, his cock twitching slightly against the warmth of your hand. 
pulling you towards him, he kisses you again, fingers wandering down to your heat and stroking your folds. "so wet from touching me, baby?" he teases, smiling against your lips as he slips a finger in, and then another, your walls sucking him in easily. he finds your soft spot immediately, your thighs shaking around his hand as you whine. it's a sound embarrassing to your own ears, but it's like music to haechan's ears, as he lets out a low groan. 
"it's too bad it's your last time with me," he murmurs, lightly, as he takes a condom out from the glove compartment, his hands moving swiftly as he tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. "i would love to record your pretty sounds…" your voice lets out another small whimper, as if proving him right, as he adjusts you on his lap so the head of his cock lines up with your entrance. slowly, you sink down on him, clutching onto his body for support as you feel him fill you up tightly. 
"breathe," he coaxes, letting his own head sink back against the seats, the hazy feeling of you wet and warm around him intensifying as you take all of him inside you. he continues on, trying to distract you by peppering gentle kisses all over your cheeks. "would you like to hear your voice in a song, sweetheart? all the girls in the crowd wondering who's pretty voice is on the track, wondering who's making her feel this good…" he hisses, when he feels you pulse around him. "you want that?" 
your lips part, stuttering out jumbles of half-sentences, yes-es and nos. "'m just teasing, baby," he coos, as he thrusts his hips upwards experimentally, bouncing you on his lap. you lean into his body, feeling muscle firm under your palms as you raise your hips and grind against him, sensitivity making your thighs shake as the movement stimulates your clit. 
responding to your need, his arm loops around your waist while his fingers wander towards your clit, stroking and rubbing it expertly as he continues to thrust up into you, the car jolting with his movements. his strong thighs tense as he moves, barely pulling out before stuffing himself into you again, your walls kneading his length in a way that makes his body feel hot with need, chasing his climax. your soft sounds each time his tip grazes your soft spot are an aphrodisiac, and he feels himself growing impossibly harder inside you, so aroused it almost hurts. 
"haechan, i'm cumming," you moan, and his fingers put more pressure on your clit, as you bounce on him, eager for release. 
"keep saying my name," he breathes, pulling you close, your bodies moving frantic and unsteady against each other, as you cum, mouthing his name against his skin. he empties himself into the condom soon after, hips still jolting as he helps you ride out the aftershocks of your climax, your breaths echoing loud in the car.
you almost wanted to ask for round 2 — and you were sure he would give it to you, if you had asked. instead you stay silent, feeling emptier than ever as he pulls out, your body draining of his warmth as he cleans you with wipes from his glove compartment, kissing you sweetly whenever your eyes met. the water bottle he procured from the passenger seat of the car making you wonder if this was his plan all along, as you sipped quietly, as he put your address in his phone to take you home. 
you can feel him slip away from you on the drive back. 
a sea of red and green lights move across the planes of his face as you watch him drive, one hand on the wheel and the other touching your hand softly on the centre console. you give his fingers a faint squeeze and he smiles, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a light kiss to your fingertips. 
when you reach the next intersection, he pulls his hand from yours and puts it back on the steering wheel. 
when he makes his next turn, his shoulders start to tense and the easy, relaxed expression on his face morphs into a stony one. 
and when he finally pulls up in front of your apartment building, turning to face you, the glowing streetlights illuminating the outlines of his face do nothing to soften the blow of seeing him like this again — looking at you with half-lidded eyes, almost lazy in his power. 
"are you coming to the next show?"  
"i want to," you respond, your voice small. "...should i?" 
"it doesn't really matter to me." his fingers tap against the wheel, restlessly. "i just hope you know you shouldn't wait around afterwards." 
you bite your lip. "i know." 
he nods. "so you know this is over?" 
"i know." 
"good girl." it feels like a punch to the stomach, and you inhale, sharply, hands gripping the handle of the car door. waiting for him to dismiss you, as he always did. 
but then he's speaking again, breaking the silence. his voice is softer, a little more hesitant – "do you need me to walk you up?" he's not looking at you, eyes trained on his dashboard. "will you be okay?" 
it's cruel, the way your heart stutters in your chest. you take one last look at him, trying to memorize everything — the sharp line of his jaw, his collarbones, the joints of his fingers, the way his pinky finger crooks slightly to the right. the faint smell of vanilla and something darker, mixed with his warmth. you try to memorize it because you're sure this is the last time you'll be so close to him again, both in proximity, and in the way his voice aches with something close to tenderness. in that moment, you know if you told him you needed him, he would turn off the engine and open your car door, holding you safe against his chest and walking you up to your apartment. but what for? for him to shut off on the way up the elevator, and turn into a stranger at your door? 
"it's fine," you murmur, and you don't wait for a response before stepping out into the warm night. 
your ribs press against the barrier, and you wince slightly. the crowd screams loud in your ear, as the boy in front of you looks up from his guitar at the crowd in front of him, dark gaze sliding over faces, tongue poking at his cheek and puffy lips stretched. 
his eyes briefly meet yours, and your heart skips a beat. 
and then he's looking back down at his guitar again, lips pursed in concentration. 
the next time he glances up, the familiar glint is back, eyebrows drawn together. there was something strange about the way he was looking at you, not exactly meeting your eyes. was he looking at your clothes? your hair? or… 
"oh my god!" 
you shoot a brief glance back, at the girl who's just let out a squeal. she claps her hands over her mouth, eyes shining as she stares adoringly at haechan, unblinking. you don't have to check to know he's staring right back — you know the look on her face a little too well. 
the disappointment and jealousy weighing on your chest is entirely unjustified, but you feel it heavy in your bones, anyway. 
he had meant every word: it was truly over. 
"did anyone see you?" 
"no," you whimper, as he mouths over the seat of your panties, tongue lapping at your folds through the fabric. 
"good girl," he pants, letting out a satisfied groan when he tugs them down your legs, burying his face in between your legs with a lewd moan. 
but if it was truly over, why did he find you after the show last week, – slipping by you to tell you to meet him in the upstairs master bedroom, where he fingered you open in front of the mirror?
if it was truly over, why did a stagehand stop you from leaving after the next show you went to, passing you a note that told you to wait at the back entrance of the venue? 
"fuck fuck fuck-"
and if it was truly over, why was he currently in between your spread legs, his mouth and chin covered with your juices as you lay on his bed?
"need you now, princess." his fingers brush your clit, and your thighs shake with overstimulation. "are you okay? i can wait-" 
"don't wait," you plead, pulling him towards you. he follows, propping himself up on his arms as his face reaches yours, his lips gently nudging your own apart, letting you taste yourself on his tongue when he kisses you. his sticky hands stroke your sides, leaving trails on your skin. "haechan –" 
he interrupts you with another kiss. freckling more kisses down your neck, he smiles against the mark he left days ago, fading slightly now. "i missed this," he murmurs, and your heart stings, a collection of memories surfacing in your mind – of his eyes avoiding yours at shows. of him waiting onstage for someone else. of him smiling at you cordially, face blank as if he were greeting you for the first time when he talked to you in front of other fans. 
"did you really?" 
he doesn't respond, latching his lips to your skin with a hum, hands cupping your breasts in one swift motion, fingers teasing over your nipples and making your body arch into his touch. 
"haechan…"  
"what do you want, princess?" he wanders lower, licking at your cleavage. your mind threatens to blank when he circles a fingertip around your areola, puffy wet lips closing around a nipple and sucking wetly. "hm?" 
"want you to fuck me…" your voice is shaky, but you press on. "like how you were gonna fuck that girl."  
his hands still for just a brief second. you can see your words hit him, understanding and lust flickering in his responding laugh. he focuses his eyes back on your face, hands now coming up to brush your lips, caressing your cheek, smoothing over your skin almost lovingly.
this is how he was going to fuck her? 
"open up," he murmurs, fingers pressed to your bottom lip. as if stuck in a trance, your lips part. 
a wet mess of saliva, still mixed with traces of your arousal, drips down from his tongue into your mouth, connecting your lips with his in a glossy sheen. his lips tug into a smile as he sees your blown-out pupils, arousal completely overriding his every thought. 
his fingers trace your jaw. "swallow," he commands, sweetly, and as always you do exactly as he says. 
you feel something shift against your upper thigh, your hips rising on instinct to buck against his hard length, still trapped behind his ripped jeans. 
his low groan is interrupted by a sharp rattling of the doorknob, followed by a thud against the door. both of you still, eyes focused on the locked door, straining your ears to hear the voices outside. 
"are you sure no one saw you?" haechan asks, quietly. "did jisung see you? mark? jeno?"
"i don't think so," you mumble. 
that was the arrangement you had come up with a little over a week ago, discussed in heated kisses and bliss-induced haze. you could keep seeing haechan, as long as you never saw the rest of the band again. on nights when he knew he wanted you, you would slip through crowds like a ghost to make your way into warm beds and cold bathrooms, saving him from the jealousy, and saving you from the questions. 
of course, there were a few nights where no message would find you, where he wouldn't grab your wrist as you brushed past him in a hallway, his hands distracted with someone else. those nights used to make you cry, your entire being aching for his attention, his indifference just as bruising as his care. 
the doorknob rattles again, and there's a knock on the door. 
"haechan? are you in there?" 
mark's voice. 
"they're back early from the party," haechan mumbled. to your shock, he ignores them and tugs off his shirt roughly, revealing delicate tanned skin dotted with moles, looking soft-to-touch. 
"haechan," mark's voice is exasperated. "i thought we agreed not to bring girls to our apartment." 
haechan rolls his eyes as his hands go to his belt, ridding himself of his pants and underwear. you can see the muscles in his thighs tense as he makes his way up the bed, hands holding your hips.
"you wanted me to fuck you like the other girls?" he murmurs, low so only you can hear. "well. on your knees." 
"but mark is –" you break off, seeing the way his eyes narrow, something dangerous flickering in his pupils. "but…but they're outside," you whisper. as if to prove your point, mark bangs on the door again. 
and then jisung's voice, low and urgent comes through the door. "who is he even with? the girl he left the show with was alone when i saw her."
"god, are they all outside the door?" haechan grumbles, focusing his attention back on you when you let out a small sound of distress. "forget about them," he soothes, leaning in to kiss you on the lips. his mouth moves over yours searingly, possessive and all-consuming in the way he pushes his tongue into your mouth. "on your knees," he commands, quietly, against your mouth. "i won't ask again." 
a thrill runs down your spine as you flip over, his large hands adjusting you so your back arches, head pressed into the pillows as he holds your hips up. he presses a kiss to your back as he reaches off the bed for a condom, rolling it onto his hard length with a soft groan. you look over your shoulder, see him stroking himself, mouth hanging open. 
"hurry," you plead. you can feel slick on your thighs from the way he ate you out earlier, growing wetter from anticipation. "please." 
he ignores you. "can you be quiet for me?" he mumbles. outside, you can hear the boys discussing something heatedly, voices low so you can't make out the words. "don't want anyone else to hear you."
"yes," you promise, meekly. 
"good girl." he lines himself up to your entrance, reaching around to rub your clit as he runs the tip of his cock against your folds. you let out a shaky breath at the feeling, trying hard not to let it catch your vocal cords. 
one hand on your hip and the other stroking your lower back, he pushes in slowly, letting you adjust to his girth. you feel a sting as he stretches your walls, filling you up deeply while burying himself inside you. he murmurs for you to relax, listening to you take shallow breaths, the way your hole flutters around his length making him want to thrust forward, relieve his own ache. 
"haechan, are you asleep?" 
there's a sharp rap on the door, and haechan curses as it makes you tighten around him, gummy walls gripping him like a vice, as if begging for his cum. 
"you liked that, baby?" his voice is low, and mocking. you whimper. "you like the idea of them coming in and seeing you like this? letting me take you like a slut?" 
"haechan, we know you're in there." now it's jeno's rough voice, devoid of its usual warmth. "we saw the shoes at the door. we need to talk." 
haechan pulls out until only his tip is still inside you, and slams back in aggressively, filling you to the brim. he starts to build a rhythm, thrusting deep and slow inside you, letting you feel the drag of him against your walls as he strokes your clit with his fingers. he was taking his time with you — pausing to lean forward and press kisses to your shoulders, mouthing messily over your skin. 
"haechan, please -" you try to keep your voice quiet, but he chooses this time to fuck you a little harder, picking up the pace, and your mouth hangs open as your aborted whimpers turn into drawn out moans.  
"hm?" he prompts, faking nonchalance. but you can feel that the pace is affecting him too, his breathing growing heavier as he speeds up a little more. 
"harder," you mumble, words feeling thick and slow in your mouth. "faster. fuck," 
a bang on the door. the loud sound makes you jolt, and haechan hisses as you clench down on him harshly again, your thighs inching closer together, creating a tighter fit around his thick cock. 
"i wonder why they're not coming in yet." his voice in your ear is low, sultry. the kind he uses on-stage when he's teasing the crowd. 
"i-isn't the door l-locked?" 
"sure…but it's a really old lock. i know mark could open it if he really wanted to. he's done it before when i'm late for rehearsals, ah fuck-" he's slamming himself into you, barely pulling out before pushing in again, wet sounds filling the room. "fuck, you must really like that. how do you just keep getting tighter and tighter, hm?" 
"haech–" 
"maybe i'll ask them to come in…" he muses, his tone sickly sweet. "i just know you'll cum hard on my cock when they open the door, right? let them see how filthy you are?" 
"don't –", you choke. 
"should i tell them not to come in?" 
"no," you gasp, and he laughs, darkly. 
"no, i should tell them to come in?" he asks between breathless pants, pace unrelenting as the lewd sound of skin against skin fills the room. "you want me to talk to them baby?" 
you let out an incoherent mumble, no longer sure of anything. 
he coos at that. "dumb already, princess?" his hand wanders up to your chest, blunt nails haphazardly scraping across your nipples. your hips push back onto him instinctively, fucking yourself onto his length, your hips chasing pleasure from the sensitivity as you cum. 
"haechan, i'm not leaving until you open the door." another thud, as mark sits down. 
"fuck…" haechan's only half listening to mark as he throws his head back, murmuring curses as he feels you clench around him, milking his cock. it takes all the self control he has to place his hands on your waist, stilling your movements as he pulls out of you. he's so hard that it hurts, and he knows his release is close, but he still shifts your body until you're lying on your back, and he can see your tear-streaked face, drool smeared all over your chin. 
you mouth his name soundlessly, fresh waves of tears gathering on your waterline as you see him move away from you, and you try to sit up to keep him in your line of sight. 
"haechan, –" 
"i'm here," he murmurs, one hand immediately finding yours and squeezing, the other grappling for the water bottle on the bedside table. he unscrews the cap with one hand as he moves towards you, helping you prop yourself up against the headboard. "drink." 
he holds the bottle up to your lips, but you shake your head. "want you," you whisper, even though your mouth feels warm and sticky, your throat dry from moaning. you can't focus on anything except for the emptiness inside you, your clit throbbing whenever you shift your thighs together slightly. you're focused on his hard length, the slope of his shoulders down to his slender waist. you shake your head again, knocking the bottle against your lips and spilling a little bit of the water onto the sheets. 
"don't be a brat." his voice is low, a dangerous sort of patience in his tone. "drink, or i won't give you what you want." 
you swallow, his voice washing over you, pulling you under. this time when he raises the bottle to your lips, you hold it with shaky hands, letting water trickle down your throat. his own hand comes up, touching two fingers to your neck gently, making sure you were drinking instead of pretending by feeling for the movement of your throat.  
"done?" he watches you lick your parted lips, dewy with water and saliva, and takes the bottle from you, placing it back on the stand. "do you want to keep going?" 
you nod, slowly. 
"use your words," he commands, quietly. 
"please don't stop," you plead, shuffling towards him. it feels like the fog has cleared slightly in your head, the water making the heat haze dissipate. vaguely, you're sure that mark, jisung, and jeno must know what you were doing – must have heard the headboard thumping against the wall, haechan's low groans and your breathless whimpers. 
you wonder what mark is thinking now, outside, not leaving and yet not breaking in like haechan said he could. it sends a wave of arousal down to your core, some part of you wanting him to see the way you break for haechan, completely and wholly his. your way of rejecting him without having to see his face – your way of explaining why you ignored him whenever he caught your eyes during shows and after-parties. 
haechan reads you easily, observing the way your eyes flicker to the door. he's torn between opening the door himself — letting mark see you on his bed, fucked stupid by him, or stepping outside and telling mark to leave because no one should see or hear you like this but him. 
"do you want me to tell mark to leave?" 
"n-no," you hesitate. "don't."
he raises his eyebrows. "why?" 
"w-want him to know that i'm yours," you mumble, a hand wrapping around his thigh and squeezing. 
haechan's eyes darken. “mine?” he echoes, quietly, almost gently.
you're so focused on the shift in his features – the set of his jaw, the way he tenses, that you barely notice he's sliding off the bed and picking you up effortlessly so that you cling to his upper body, legs gripping his waist. his lip curls into a smile, head tilted mockingly as he starts to walk, strong arms holding you up.
your back hits solid wood, and you gasp. 
"haechan?" mark's voice is crystal clear on the other side of the door. 
haechan adjusts his grip, pushing you against the door as he slides his tip along your dripping cunt, making you squirm in his hold. 
"be good, hm?" he whispers, as he pushes into you, eyes squeezing shut and jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls sucking him back in, pulsing along his length and making his cock throb. when he opens his eyes again, his gaze is unfocused, hazy, and you can see that this situation is heightening his arousal, causing his thrusts to be sloppy and unfocused as he chases his own high. each time he pushes into you, the weight of his hips snapping against yours pushes against the door, and you hear it jolt a little, the lock jiggling.
mark's shouted expletive rings against your ears, mirrored by haechan's own as he captures your lips in a kiss. the feeling is familiar and new at the same time, his tongue sliding languidly over yours, swiping against your bottom lip. at the sight of your parted mouth and wet lips, he moans again, and without hesitating he spits into your waiting mouth, sloppy and messy, causing it to dribble past your lips and down your chin. 
the rhythm against the door is unmistakable, and you can hear footsteps as mark runs off. haechan laughs, a pleased hum in his chest that vibrates against your own as he leans into you, and he mouths down your neck, biting at your shoulder and letting his low groan scrape against his throat as a growl. you cum when your stiff nipples brush against his chest, the tiny bit of stimulation just enough to throw you over the edge into your orgasm, your thighs clenching around him as you sob, your core aching. 
the feeling of your walls rippling around his length is too much to bear, and he barely lets you ride out your orgasm on him before he's pulling out of you and carrying you back to his bed. haechan tugs off the condom urgently as you lie there, tired and spent, watching as he strokes his length, fast, eyes fluttering open and shut with lust, his hips thrusting forward uncontrollably. his thumb ghosts just under the head of his cock, and then he's cumming all over your stomach and chest, sticky white spurts pooling on your skin. 
you watch him out of half-lidded eyes as his breathing slows, collapsing next to you in a heap. the high from the sex hasn't faded yet – the consequences of being heard by all his bandmates hasn't hit you, as you bask in the temporary glow of being his. 
a finger traces along the cum on your stomach, haechan transfixed by the sight. curious, your hands grab for the small mirror on his bedside table, and he comes out of his daze, handing it to you wordlessly. 
in the moonlight, the marks he's made on your skin blur with the shadows. no part of you looks untouched — your tear-streaked face and kiss-swollen lips, bruises on your hips and the sting of the bite mark on your shoulder. your hands tremble a little as you focus the mirror on where his fingers play with his drying cum on your skin, tracing lines and curves. 
"'m yours," you mumble out. 
"yeah?" he chokes. "mine?" 
dazedly, you point to your neck. "yours." 
he groans, just watching you, eyes roving over your body. "you're beautiful," he whispers. you think he means it.
"more." your voice is quiet. 
"no more, baby," he murmurs, looking up at you with concern. "it's too much for you." 
you shake your head. "these could be from anyone," you point at the marks on your neck. his body tenses, hands stiff on your skin. "i want to be yours." 
slowly, your words settle over him. he looks at you with an unreadable expression, the kind you see right before he strikes his first chord, the moment his eyes find yours in the crowd. a dark sort of determination, in the way his holds your gaze. 
he reaches over, and opens a drawer. you can hear the sound of things knocking around inside as he roots his hand around, finally emerging with an eyeliner pen. through the mirror, you can see his hands splayed out over the space just under your breasts, pulling the skin over your ribcage taut. his tongue pokes out into the lower corner of his mouth as he places the tip of the pen to your skin. 
he loops once. skids the pen downwards. jerks it up harshly, ending off with jagged motions, each brush trailing ink on your skin. 
when he's done he leans backwards, raising his eyebrows, asking you wordlessly if this was finally enough. his signature on your body, next to the bruises and marks and last remnants of his cum on your skin. 
"haechan?" 
he doesn't respond, but a part of you expects it already – you've memorized the way he leaves. 
"why didn't you fuck that girl tonight?" 
he takes his time, taking a long sip from his bottle of wine. from where you lie on the bed, you can just see the broad frame of his back, his side profile as he looks out of the window and at the moon, bright in the sky, the milky glow illuminating his skin. without his makeup, he looked like just a boy – pretty features almost dainty on his face. it's his hands which break the facade, calloused and rough, with veins that make your head spin when you think about them for too long, holding the bottle up to his lips. 
"didn't feel like it." 
you think about his answer, blinking slowly from the sleepiness. "why did you fuck me?" 
he faces forward, away from you. "felt like it."  
"why?" 
"i'm beginning to question that too," he replies, bluntly.
hurt aches in your bones, as silence rings loud in your ears. "if you don't want me here i can just go," you say, softly, and you're sure your voice sounds as wounded as you feel. "you've cleaned me up. i can leave if you want." 
you can see him stiffen, his shoulders tensing up. 
"where's jaemin?" 
of course. sitting up, you wince at the ache between your legs. "he's probably asleep," you answer, bitterly. "but i can just call a cab –"
his back muscles tense, and then he's shifting from where he sits on the edge of the bed. sliding into the space next to you, he rests back against the headboard, legs stretched out over the sheets. a hand wraps around yours. 
"ask me easier questions," he mumbles, turning your palm over so he can lace your fingers together, giving them a reassuring squeeze. 
your breath stutters. 
"what did you talk about? with the band?" 
after cleaning you up and tucking you into bed, haechan had finally stalked out of the bedroom to talk to mark, jisung and jeno. he hadn't said a thing when he returned, holding a bottle of wine, placing it on the bedside table before stepping into the bathroom wordlessly to remove his makeup. 
haechan blinks down slowly at your intertwined hands. "they asked me what was going on." 
"what?" 
"i've been losing focus," he mumbles. "during shows and during rehearsal. and jeno noticed i kept ditching girls at parties, said it wasn't like me to not be fucking around at all." 
a beat. 
you bite your lip. "you're…you're losing focus?" 
but he just shakes his head. "they're wrong." 
you can see that the topic is upsetting him, so you rush to ask another question. "do you write any of the songs that the band play?" 
he raises his eyebrows. "so you care so much about the band now? does that mean you're a fan?" 
he ignores your mumbled excuse, squeezing your hand again to let you know he was teasing. "mark usually writes the songs," he answers. "i don't have much to write about." and then, with a little more force, "ask me questions about me, not the band."
"what does this tattoo mean?" you place the tip of your finger just below his ribcage, where there's a small doodle of a bear paw. 
"people say i look like a bear," he mumbles, a little shy. even in the moonlight, his pouty lips and round cheeks are evident, his shoulders broad as he slumps against the headboard. 
"i see it," you confirm, and a smile flickers on his face. 
"yeah?" he looks over at you, and his free arm loops around your shoulder, squeezing you into his side. his affection buzzes in your veins, as you try to divert his attention with another question. 
"and what does this tattoo mean?" your other hand comes up again, now to trace at the sunflower peeking out from the base of his neck, trailing down to his shoulder. 
he takes a deep breath. "my sister picked it." 
"sister?" 
"baby sister," he adds, softly. "she just turned six. this is her favorite flower." 
"oh." 
"why?" he tilts his head, bumping your own gently. "do i not seem like an older brother?" 
"i think…" you hum, contemplating. "not when you're onstage," you decide.
"do you think i'm different? from when i'm onstage?" 
"i don't know you enough to judge," you say, truthfully. aside from the sex, and from the brief moments right after when it felt like he was truly there, holding you, the haechan you knew was mostly the one flooded with stage lights, the kind of boy you had to beg to earn his attention. 
haechan goes quiet, his hand on yours stilling, and you turn to look at him. tension is filling up the room, slow and thick like a fog, and you can't breathe against the weight of everything — the weight of his gaze, the almost boyish way his eyes flick down to your lips and back up to meet yours. 
"do you want to?" 
you bite your lip. 
maybe two weeks ago your heart would have leapt, maybe you would have begged for the opportunity to have him closer. 
but your body has already had time to learn disappointment, to defend yourself against his callousness and his cold, learning the art of slipping in and out of intimacies. every line crossed, every boundary blurred. 
"do i want to?" you echo, and you see him falter. 
maybe his own words held more weight than he'd anticipated. 
"you don't?" 
or maybe he was just scared to hear your answer. 
"will you let me?" you reflect the question back to him. his fingers twitch against your shoulder where he's still holding you.
there were some nights where it felt as if he was taking his adrenaline out on your body, or where he was making you forget the fear of being caught by overriding your senses with pleasure. there were others when you fell so deep into a headspace, that he would care for you gently, something romantic and tender in the negative space between your bodies. 
and ultimately all of these nights ended the same – the same curl of his lip, his face closed-off, his voice too steady and unfeeling.
"how would you let me know you?" it's only when he flinches when you catch the harshness to your tone, your own words leaving a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. "by barely letting things slip every night?" 
"y/n…" it's not meant as a warning. your name is spoken softly, with an ache in it that makes goosebumps rise up your arms. "i thought you were fine." 
"i am," you insist, feeling defensive. "i'm fine with you pretending you don't know me, or when you disappear on the drive home." 
"y/n, –" 
"just…don't say things if you don't mean them," you finish, mumbling your words to mute the hurt in them. 
there's a long silence. 
and then, his voice, so delicate and fragile, like he was afraid his words would bruise the space between him and you. 
"we're playing at a bar this friday." 
you make a sound of confusion, and he continues on. "it's only for a few fans who won some sort of a lucky draw. they get to talk to us and get autographs." 
"i didn't enter," you cut in, but still he continues on, as if he was trying to get the words out before he lost his nerve.
"i'm inviting you now. and….and afterwards i'll leave with you and we can go to my place." he swallows. "my real apartment. not this one i share with the band." he lets out a shaky breath. "i don't… i don't usually bring girls there, if you can't tell."  
"but…" the wheels in your head are turning slowly, as you try to catch up with what he's saying. "but if i'm there… and it's such a small crowd…the band is going to see that i'm there. 
"they will," he confirms quietly. 
"they're going to know you invited me. because i'm not a fan." 
his lips twitch. "but you like me, no?" 
"i do," you concede, absentmindedly. "but i thought you said…the band…" 
"i don't think i really care about that anymore." his thumb dips low, brushing over the space under your ribs where his name is temporarily tattooed against your skin. "i…" he hesitates, before his thumb swipes against your skin again, and he takes a deep breath. "i told them about you. just now." 
you feel like you're falling – a sense of vertigo making your head spin.
"what did you say?" 
"just that…there was a you," he finished, lamely. "that we see each other more, but it's nothing." his hand squeezes yours, a gentle pulse. "nothing yet, anyway."
"i'll take it," you murmur, holding his hand clasped in both of yours and kissing him lightly on his fingertips. his face crumples, his chest caving in on itself with the weight of the tenderness he feels for you in that moment, and he leans in, tilting his head, eyes fluttering closed. 
he kisses you like it's a promise, close-lipped and earnest. it feels almost like the two of you are finally on even ground. 
— 
"what are you trying to do?" 
you jump, as the light in the small kitchenette flicks on. dirty dishes pile up in the sink, mugs scattered over the countertop, and the boy leaning against the fridge focuses his gaze on you. his voice is gentle, a mellow sort of sweetness undercut by the deepness of his voice. not in the way jisung's was deep, but a bass to it that gave it authority, one that the boy seldom had to use. 
"what do you mean?" 
jeno tilts his head. "y/n, do you know why haechan likes to fuck girls after his shows?" 
the sweetness on your tongue from haechan's kiss decays into bitterness. 
jeno doesn't seem to care. "he gets high off the feeling of the crowd. it's something he doesn't want to let go of, so he finds someone who adores him and makes them prove it." his eyes bore into yours, unblinking. "he doesn't care who he's with, y/n. he just likes the way they sound, screaming his name." 
"but why doesn't-" you choke. it  feels almost like you're betraying him. "why doesn't he date?" 
jeno raises his eyebrows, and you feel pathetic. it’s a long time before he finally answers.
"all the girls are only after the version of him onstage. it's him they like, and haechan's just extending the performance. would you want to date someone who only liked one side of you?"
"but i don't just like that side of haechan," you protest, weakly. even then, you don't know what other sides you're alluding to — was it his gentleness with you? how he always held you after? the one who let his baby sister pick his tattoos?
"y/n?" 
a soft voice sounds out from the corridor leading off into the bedrooms. sleep-ridden syllables mumbling out into the still air, calling your name. 
"where are you? is everything okay?"
jeno's looking at you with someone like pity in his eyes, the way your body turns towards his voice like an instinct. "haechan isn't even his real name, did you know that?" 
he crosses over to you, and places his mug into the sink behind your back. "try not to get too loud," he murmurs. "we're all tired." 
and as haechan pulls you into his warm embrace, palms wandering over your skin, you bite your tongue and keep as quiet as possible.
haechan's head snaps up as he sees the door swing open again and more girls wander into the bar. there are excited squeals and shouts as they spot the band, he can hear mark's warm laugh and see jisung's wave out of his peripheral vision. behind him, jeno's methodically checking on his drum kit, and haechan can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, as if he knew. 
his eyes scan the crowd again, praying he was wrong. but deep down he knows he would recognise your voice anywhere, be able to spot your features even in total darkness. 
and right now, you weren't there at all. 
his body goes on autopilot, muscle memory kicking in as he plays the chords, does his solos, nods along to the music. the crowd is frenetic, watching the way his eyebrows are drawn together, tonguing at his cheek, his lips downturned — the anger tense in his body making them whisper to themselves, wondering why this was part of his performance today. he keeps his expression slack as he signs autographs, nodding curtly towards fans as they bid him goodbye timidly, intimidated by his stormy gaze. 
he doesn't understand why it makes his insides twist, each time he searches the crowd and darts his eyes back to his guitar. maybe he'd just gotten used to seeing you front row at his shows. maybe that was all this was — and you were a bad habit he should have broken. 
it's what he tells himself as he lets his hands brush against the girl's as she holds her poster out to him, smiling a close-lipped smile, eyes dragging up and down his body excitedly. he lets her think it's a part of the performance, as he rails her in the bathroom of the bar, his eyes squeezed shut as she moans his name into the sink, trying to ignore the way her body didn't react at all like yours did, that his hands couldn't find purchase on her skin at all, and her voice made him want to crawl out of his skin. 
you were a bad habit he should break — at least that's what he tells himself to keep him sane.
-> part 2 here!
taglist: @neochan, @ahncosette, @18shy @kittydollzz @jenoslutie @pussymode @yyfka @cheolctrl @jaeminsballs @mysummerhyuck @strawberrytyong @rosiejunnie @nctzen4eva @haechskies @wickedrei @sundamariis @simpforarmihn @liliansun @lanadreamie @nodisdino @angelwonie @foxydumps @manooffline @moonsmias @skzct7 @iscocohere @ficrecnctskz @smwhrinthehaze (sorry there were q a few i couldn't tag!)
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