#NCT drabble

[chenlezip]

bf!mark thoughts…

warning: smut under the cut.

annas note: i want mark so badly why can’t he be mine :(

FLUFF :

whenever you visit mark during practice, he always comes over to you during his breaks and presses soft kisses against your lips, sighing and leaning his head into the crook of your neck, “doing so well baby, ‘m proud.” you praise him and he feels himself melt into you even more.

never lets you carry anything yourself. you’ve tried begging him countless of times so you can help because.. there’s no way he can manage the shopping himself- no, he cuts you off instantly and shakes his head, “i can manage.”

no matter how busy mark gets, he’ll always find the time to open up his packed schedule for you. whether that be just calling you late at night despite the time differences between you two while he’s on tour, pushing schedule back just two hours so he can spend more time in bed with you snuggled into his arms..

writes endless songs about you, performing them with his guitar and smiling brightly as he sees your reactions. if you start crying during one of them, he quickly drops everything and shushes you, “hey- hey, babe, what’s wrong? i didn’t mean to make you cry, i didn’t know my song was that sad.”

SMUT :

whenever mark is too tired from work, you’re quickly on your knees. “can make you feel better markie, release some of your stress from today, hm?” and god, he can’t say no when you’re looking up at him with those perfect doe eyes of yours that have a hint of desire in them. he hummed in response, leaning back against the headboard, “go on pretty..”

he always teases you for being sensitive just like you do with him. whenever you’ve got a hand on his thigh so close to his dick, he has to move your hand further down and groans, “not so close.. please..” but you never listen until marks keeping your hand there, rubbing his crotch against your hand, “k-keep it there..”

loves keeping close to you and teasing you with soft touches here and there, reminding you that you’re his in the simplest of ways. maybe if he’s too busy in the studio, you sat on his lap, his hands wander while he’s sorting out which notes to play on his guitar. “markie..” you feel him moving his hand below the waistband of your panties. he just hummed in response, tilting his head at you. “what’s wrong, babe?”

[lucyandthepen]

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

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

read the first part here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is no exception.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking impossible!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh…” you say smartly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that mean?”

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

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

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

“Meaning?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s happening to me next time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gotta study all the same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bingo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“If… who’s right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Just promise me.”

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

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

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would if I could.”

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

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

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

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

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

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

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

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

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

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

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

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

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this even about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s on your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that have to do with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop doing that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A mouth made for you to kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you not want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least give me a full minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s… still a no for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to hear it anyway.”

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

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

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

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

“Mark, what—”

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

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

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

“What’s your passcode?”

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

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

“What’s funny?”

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

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

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

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

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

“With my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Hyuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m doing it right now.”

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

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

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I already am.”

[fadedncity]

(blood)thirst (teaser)

wc: 1.6k (teaser)

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

cw: supernatural!au, werewolf(lycan)!jeno, vampire!reader, natural enemies to lovers/forbidden love type of situation, injuries, blood, full fic tags: smut, angst, mention of death and family loss, flirting, sexual tension, teasing, pet names, oral sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, way more plot than i expected, plus more

a/n: hey yall so i finished this fic a while ago and it’s just been sitting in my drafts and then i was kinda unsure whether i wanted to post it but i still might. so lmk what you think!

full fic out now

TUESDAY [3:31 AM]

Rain pours in sheets, pelting against your skin. Your footsteps are silent as you sprint through the underbrush, hot on the heels of the Lycan ahead of you.

Even with his head start, it took you no time to catch up to the him. Your pace matched his as you zeroed in on his steady breathing and rhythmic drum of his footfalls. Lycans are fast, and he hadn't even shifted forms yet. But still, you had no trouble keeping up with him.

All the while you closely trail the Lycan, you're cautious of your surroundings, keeping your ears peeled for any sign of a presence accompanying you both in these woods.

Just as you were about to fall in line with him, an unexpected sound sliced through the night—a whistle, followed by the unmistakable twang of a bowstring.

An arrow whizzed past your head, embedding itself in a tree trunk to your left. Stopping in your tracks, you tilt your head, seeing sparks and smoke emitting from the arrowhead now embedded into the old pine tree. But you aren't given any more time to investigate as you're tackled to the ground by the Lycan.

Before you could push him off, his body shields you from the explosion of blinding light so bright you could've sworn it was day for a split second.

He just saved you.

"Are you okay?" Jeno asks, rain dripping from the ends of his hair as he stands from the dirt.

"Yeah," you nod, hesitantly taking the hand he offers. "Thanks," you say, looking at the tree bark melting off the trunk.

The humans have UV explosives. Great.

Both you and Jeno hear the sound of cars approaching from the nearby road and take off running again. Without a word, you plunge deeper into the forest, your movements synchronized with Jeno's by necessity.

"How did they even find us?" Jeno asks, looking over his shoulder, his voice barely audible over the rain.

"I was just going to ask you the same thing."

The hunters were relentless, their shouts echoing in the distance, along with the pounding of their boots. You moved swiftly, navigating the maze of branches and roots with an ease born from decades of practice. The forest seemed to close in around you, the trees pressing in like silent sentinels bearing witness to your flight.

Then shots start firing off, the sharp cracks of bullets cutting through the air. It sounds like they were coming from every direction, the rain making it harder for both you and Jeno to locate where the hunters are.

A bullet soars past you and stops whistling in your ears when it hits flesh, tearing through skin and muscle. Jeno beside you roars out in pain and begins to slow down as the metallic taste of blood enters the air around you. You shoot him a look of concern over your shoulder.

"I'll be fine," he says. But when you see his hand pressed to his shoulder, blood seeping from an injury that should've already started healing, you know he's far from okay. "We need to get out of these woods," Jeno winces as he applies pressure to the gunshot wound.

"I know a place not too far from here," you tell him.

[6:37 AM]

The moon's silver glow was waning, giving way to the first light of dawn. The storm had passed, leaving the forest dank and muddy. Urgency rose as you were closing in on daybreak. You and Jeno raced through the forest, the scent of his blood and sweat mingling in the damp morning air.

Jeno's breath was labored, each step accompanied by a pained grunt as he pushed himself forward. The wound on his shoulder, though not fatal, was slowing him down.

"The sun's gonna be up soon," Jeno pants, his voice weary.

"I know," you raise your eyes to the sky, "But we're almost there."

As you ascend the mountain, you spot the entrance behind a thick curtain of ivy and moss. The camouflaged door was almost invisible against the rocky face.

The two of you approach the fortified door. But not before you start to feel the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles all over your body, a warning of the daylight's deadly approach.

The air grows warmer with the first rays of sunlight piercing through the treetops, casting long shadows stretching like skeletal fingers across the ground, leaving you exposed. You scream out in pain just before you can reach the door, feeling the severe burns blistering across your body under the sun's relentless gaze.

Without hesitation, Jeno quickly removes his jacket and throws it around you, shielding you as best as he can from the searing sunlight.

You reach the door with trembling hands and enter the security code to unlock it. You hear the mechanism click and attempt to push the door open, but it remains stubbornly shut. The hinges, unused for so long, now rusted, obstruct your entry.

"It's stuck," panic edges your voice.

Using his good shoulder, Jeno presses his weight into the door, helping you push it open. The thick metal gives way with a heavy creak, welcoming you inside. The moment you both are through, Jeno slams the door shut behind him, enveloping you in the safety of darkness.

The flickering emergency lights cast long shadows across the walls, the only source of illumination along the steps down to the bunker. You can hear the sounds of the forest growing distant, muted, and distorted through the layers of earth and stone as you descend further down.

With the adrenaline from the chase already simmered down, the reality of your situation sets in. Here you are, a vampire, with Jeno, a lycan, forced into hiding together by humans hunting you both. The silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words only filled by the sounds of Jeno's steps behind you.

Your burns are already beginning to heal now that you're out of the sunlight. The cool, dim interior of the bunker feels like a sanctuary, the pain in your skin subsiding by the time you lead Jeno into a high-ceiling room.

"Thanks, again," you break the silence, returning his jacket. Even in the shadows, you can see Jeno's eyes examining your burns. "I'll heal," you assure him. "You, on the other hand, aren't for some reason."

"I'm fine," Jeno lies.

"You're not. You're still bleeding out. I can smell it."

Jeno stays silent, knowing there's no use in arguing with you.

"I'll go see if I can find the generator and a med kit or something," you say.

The underground facility is large enough to house an entire clan and well-equipped for emergencies. Or at least it had been once. The walls, thick and impenetrable, provide a sense of security, but the darkness within was oppressive, the silence deafening.

You move through the narrow corridors, blindly navigating yourself through the place. The emergency lights give off a faint glow, barely enough to see by. The bunker has an air of abandonment from years of sitting unused here. Cobwebs clung to the corners, and dust motes danced in the faint light.

You quickly locate the electrical room and, after a few tries, manage to get the generator running. The lights flicker on, and the air kicked on, ventilating the compound. As you make your way back down the corridor, you pass the uniform lockers, and just with your luck, you find a med kit sitting at the bottom of the cubby. You grab it and hurry back to where Jeno's waiting.

You find Jeno right where you left him; leaning against the wall, face pale and drawn, sweat glistening on his brow, damp clothes clinging to his defined muscles. From where he stands, the light casts deep shadows across his face, highlighting the strain etched into his features.

"Sit," you say, opening the case of medical supplies on the table.

"I can do it myself," Jeno mutters, though his voice lacks conviction as he weakly pushes himself away from the wall.

"You look like you can barely stand on your own. Just let me patch you up so you can at least stop bleeding all over the place," your words are punctuated by the snap of latex gloves you slip on.

Jeno has no energy to protest. He drops his jacket onto a chair and peels off his shirt, sitting on the table in front of you.

You don't have much time to ogle over the Lycan's chiseled physique as your eyes are drawn to the skin turning black and blue around the bullet's entry point. In all your years of existence, you've seen some pretty bad shit. But even this sight—Jeno's bloodied and seemingly infected shoulder, is enough to make even you wince.

"There's no exit, which is probably why you're not healing. Whatever specialized bullet hit you is still in there," you observe, examining the injury closely.

"Great," Jeno groans, throwing his head back. "Think you can get it out?"

"Sure, but it's not gonna be fun," you tell him.

"Let's just get it over with."

a/n: please lmk what you think! if i do post the full fic it is 11k so be weary 😭 thank you for reading! <33 feedback is appreciated!!

[zeroseuniverse]

Could you pls write your husband Haechan getting whiny and pouty cause you won't let him kiss you and ignore him as a prank pls? (can you make it long pls if you can?)

Dodged!

Word Count: 1K Summary: He pauses, his lips hovering inches away from yours, eyes twinkling with triumph. “Say it.” You roll your eyes. “I love you, okay? You’re my favorite, and I’ll never ignore you again.” Pairing: Haechan X reader

Taglist: @sh0dor1

Navigation

The moment Haechan walks through the door, you know he’s going to be clingy.

It’s in the way he dramatically sighs, tossing his bag onto the couch before throwing himself onto you, practically melting into your embrace like he’s been away for weeks instead of just a few hours. His arms loop around your waist, his face pressing into your neck as he groans.

“Finally,” he mumbles against your skin. “I missed you so much today.”

You smile, rubbing his back a little, but you’re on a mission tonight. A little harmless fun to see how long it takes before he completely loses it.

“I missed you too,” you say sweetly, before gently pushing his face away from your neck. He blinks up at you, eyes warm and expectant, lips already puckering up for a kiss—only for you to turn your head at the last second.

Haechan freezes. His lips land on your cheek instead, and he pulls back immediately, blinking in confusion.

“Uh… hello?” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. “What was that?”

You pretend to be oblivious. “What do you mean?”

He squints harder. “Babe, I was about to kiss you, and you just—” He mimes the way you turned your head. “You dodged me.”

You shrug, fighting a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A slow pout starts forming on his face, his lower lip jutting out. “What do you mean you don’t know? You literally just rejected me.”

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did!” He gasps like you’ve personally offended him. “Do you—do you not love me anymore?!”

“Haechan—”

“Oh my God,” he groans, flopping onto the couch like the dramatist he is. “My wife doesn’t love me anymore. I leave for a few hours, and suddenly I’m unwanted.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart warms at how ridiculously cute he’s being. Still, you keep up the act, brushing past him like you didn’t just watch him fall apart dramatically.

“Okay, I’m gonna go start dinner.”

“No, no, no, wait,” he cries, scrambling up to follow you. He latches onto your back like a koala, his arms locking around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. “Babe, don’t do this to me. Kiss me, please.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” He sounds genuinely distressed now, wiggling in your hold like a restless child. “Why not?”

“I just don’t feel like it.”

The sound that leaves his mouth is borderline inhuman. “You don’t feel like it? But—but kissing me is, like, your favorite thing ever! You always say I have the softest lips! That I’m—”

You casually reach for a pan, still ignoring him. “I changed my mind.”

Another gasp. “No, you didn’t!” He quickly moves to stand in front of you, his big brown eyes widening to their full puppy-like potential. He clutches at his chest like you just stabbed him. “You’re lying. Tell me you’re lying.”

You stare at him, pressing your lips together like you’re considering it. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, you hum, “I don’t know… Maybe I’m just not in the mood for kisses today.”

He grips the counter behind him for support, like your words have physically weakened him. “Babe, you’re literally killing me.”

“I think you’ll survive,” you say, smirking.

“No, I won’t.” He grips your wrist desperately. “I need kisses to function. It’s like oxygen. You’re depriving me of air.”

You burst into laughter, unable to help it. “You are so dramatic.”

“I am not!” He whines, shaking you a little. “You don’t understand! My whole day has been so hard, and the one thing I was looking forward to was coming home to my beautiful wife and showering her with kisses, only to be treated like this!” He sniffs, looking away like he’s trying not to cry. “This is emotional abuse.”

You snort. “That is not what emotional abuse is.”

“It feels like it.” He pouts harder, his lips curling like he’s about to full-on sulk. “I don’t know if I can go on like this.”

You decide to push him just a little further, crossing your arms. “Okay, then. If you have to kiss someone, go kiss Mark or something.”

His jaw drops. “Kiss Mark?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Since you need kisses so bad.”

He scoffs, looking deeply, deeply betrayed. “I don’t want Mark’s kisses, I want yours!”

“Well, too bad,” you say, biting back another smile.

For a moment, he just stares at you, completely still. Then, as if he’s made up his mind about something, he launches at you.

You squeal, stumbling back as he grabs your face, trapping you against the counter. His eyes are dark with determination, his lips pressed into a firm line. “You leave me no choice, babe.”

“What—”

Before you can react, he starts attacking you with kisses—messy, exaggerated, over-the-top smooches all over your face. You burst into giggles, trying to squirm away, but he doesn’t let you, peppering your cheeks, nose, and forehead with dramatic mwah sounds.

“You think you can ignore me?” he mumbles between kisses. “Huh? You think you can deprive me?”

“Haechan—stop—”

“Nope! I will get my kisses one way or another!”

You’re laughing so hard you can barely breathe, weakly pushing at his chest, but he only doubles down, squeezing you tighter. Finally, when you’re on the verge of wheezing, you surrender.

“Okay, okay! You win!”

He pauses, his lips hovering inches away from yours, eyes twinkling with triumph. “Say it.”

You roll your eyes. “I love you, okay? You’re my favorite, and I’ll never ignore you again.”

His smirk grows. “And?”

“…And I was just messing with you.”

He gasps. “I knew it!” Then, without another word, he finally presses his lips against yours in a long, sweet, desperate kiss that makes your toes curl.

When he pulls away, he looks deeply satisfied, his pout completely gone. “That’s more like it.”

You shake your head, amused. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re mine,” he hums, hugging you close again. “And from now on, I’m enforcing a no ignoring me rule, okay? Especially when it comes to kisses.”

You pretend to think about it. “I’ll consider it.”

He glares playfully. “Babe—”

You giggle, leaning in this time to kiss him first. And, just like that, all is forgiven.

(Though you have a feeling he’s going to be extra clingy for the rest of the night.)

[shuafiles]

can you please please please write a drabble about yn and the neos cutting jae’s hair before he enlist and they do nawt let jungwoo near jae 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ IDK HOW IM GETTING THRU THE DAYS RN OH LAWD GIVE ME MY MAN BACK 😔😔😔😔😔😔

“no! don’t do it!” jungwoo yelled as you clutched the scissors. you giggled at his reaction before combing your fingers through jaehyun’s hair.

“are you sure you want us to cut your hair, jae?” you examined his expression, his lips forming into a pout as he stared at his hair through the mirror. he was seated in front of you with the members scattered throughout the room. mark and haechan are holding their phones out, getting ready to record the moment jaehyun cuts his hair. at the same time, johnny and doyoung hold jungwoo to prevent him from stopping you.

“i don’t want to lose my sexy hair!” jaehyun whined, looking at you for assurance. “promise you won’t leave me even if i become bald!” you nodded at his words before pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

“come on, it won’t be that bad! taeyong looks great with a buzz cut.” yuta piped in, holding jungwoo’s hand to prevent him from stealing the scissors from your grasp.

“of course, you’ll say that! you don’t even have to enlist.” jaehyun glared at the male, which made you laugh.

“ready, baby?” you flashed him an assuring smile. once he gave you the signal, he closed his eyes as if he didn’t want to see his hair fall off his head. sorting his hair into sections, you began cutting strands off.

within a few minutes, you trimmed his entire head before handing the job to johnny, who will clean up the remaining hair with an electric razor.

you watched jaehyun, his brows furrowed while biting the inside of his cheek. his eyes were still closed, his hand reaching out to you once he heard the razor turn on. you sat near him, intertwining your fingers with his before placing his hand atop your lap to provide him with comfort.

moments later, after a bit of laughter shared between the boys (and you), jaehyun finally opened his eyes, and his eyes widened in shock at his newly buzzed-cut hair. you watched as he traced his fingers over his head, a frown on his face.

“can everyone but y/n leave, please.”

a worried look on your face; you watched as everyone gave jaehyun a handshake or hug before leaving the room. when the two of you were left alone, he signaled you to sit on his lap, which you did, legs hanging off one side of his thigh while your body faced him.

“what’s the matter, baby? you worried it doesn’t look good on you?”

“it’s not that.” jaehyun glanced at the mirror behind you, smirking. “i think it actually looks good, no?”

giggling, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. your arms fly around his neck. “you always look good.”

“i was just thinking…” his arms wrapped around your waist while he buried his head in the crook of your neck. your fingers dancing around the nape of his neck. “about how i’ll miss you too much when i’m gone.”

“jae, i’ll be here waiting.” eyes closed, tears threatened to escape your eyes.

“hey, hey.” jaehyun pulled away from your neck, hands cupping your cheeks while the pad of his thumb carefully glided across the under of your eyes to wipe away any tears forming. “don’t cry, my love.”

“you’ll be gone a long time, jaehyun.”

“the time will pass anyway.” jaehyun leaned forward to press his lips on your forehead, “i’ll be back before you know it, y/n.”

[keehomania]

JOHNNY SUH (서영호) — FRIENDS

(DRABBLE) ✧.* MINORS DNI (18+)

JOHNNY SUH was completely, utterly lost. he was lost in it, in you, in the sensation of you. he was lost in the way you milked him dry, giving him the perfect view of your tits bouncing in his face as you pressed your palms against the wall in front of you , leaning forward with your back arched as you met his pace with swift, harsh bounces with a cigarette in your mouth. he was lost in the way you moaned his name, begging him to go harder, faster before whispering sweet nothings into his ear to push him off the edge. “tearing my pussy open, fuck,” you purred, your breath hot against his ear as the tip of your tongue danced alongside his earlobe, voice muffled with the filter between your lips. “fuck me so good, gonna make me squirt all over this dick.”

he was absolutely lost in it, letting himself absorb the sheer filth of it all. he allowed himself those few minutes of escape, of temporary pleasure. his hands groped the flesh of your tits, squeezing the soft skin and probing at your sensitive nipples. his mind was a mess as his hands slid down your waist before stopping at your hips, cupping your ass. he leaned forward to take your tit into his mouth, letting the other one collide with his cheek as he sucked around your nipple. his hands spanked the soft of your ass, his thumb coming down to probe at your tight, sensitive asshole. he’d never fully push it in, he’d just keep it there long enough to hear you moan some more, to feel you clench around nothing but his fingernail.

“you’re so pretty,” the praise would always come through before johnny could stop himself, the words leaving a bitter aftertaste as they passed his lips. he hated himself for speaking his thoughts aloud, even if it wasn’t intentional. he hated himself even more when you didn’t respond, flashing him a mere smile in response. you were too lost in what he had to offer, your cunt clenching around his dick as you leaned forward to press your lips to his. you placed a single kiss to his lips, enough to give him a taste of the smoke. you pulled away to press the filter to his lips, watching with hungry eyes as he took a long drag.

it was his favorite part, kissing you. it felt more intimate than the sex itself. he didn’t hesitate to kiss you back, he’d always give in one way or another. his lips clashed with yours, melting against them as he cupped your cheek. he exhaled, blowing the smoke into your mouth as his tongue traced your bottom lip. you kissed him with desire, hunger, all the while he kissed you as if you were fragile, like you were on the verge of breaking. “your dick’s so fucking big, ’m close,” you whined, breaking the kiss to press your forehead against his.

he was just as close, thrusting upwards to match your speed. he practically felt his eyes roll into the back of his head as you tightened around his dick, your thighs slick with your juices and spread to give him the perfect view of your cunt swallowing him whole. you were greedy, but you were tempting, so he let you have him. he wanted more than what you were offering him, but he knew his chances were less than slim. he had broken up with his girlfriend and it left him heartbroken, in need of a distraction to fill the void. after a few bottles of beer and hours of consoling him, you had agreed to numb some of his pain, as friends. you had been fucking constantly, as friends. you were giving him everything he wanted, yet he wanted none of it. he had broken the first rule, and he wanted all of you. he hated himself for ever suggesting the entire ordeal, being friends with benefits. he didn’t want to be your friend, and he didn’t want these benefits anymore. he just wanted you.

“cum inside me,” you exhaled, your hair plastered to your forehead with sweat. you had never looked more tempting, riding his dick with a cigarette limp between your lips, tits shaking with every thrust he had to offer. “know you want to, johnny.” of course he wanted to, who wouldn’t? he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you in once more as his balls slapped against your ass, the angle allowing him to hit all the right spots.

he groaned in your ear, the sound of his raspy voice shooting straight through your core as you felt the coil in your stomach tighten. you could practically feel him coming up your ribcage as he held you close, pounding into your pussy with all his might. the cigarette trembled between your fingers and, soon enough, you found yourself tossing it aside, your limbs too numb to hold onto anything but the weight of your lust. at first, you felt bad, knowing you were just using each other. you wanted to be more than his sanctuary, than his friend, but it was too late for that. you forced yourself to comply, and eventually, you let yourself enjoy it.

“i’m gonna—” johnny cut himself off with a grunt, his fingers wrapping around the flesh of your hips as he lifted himself once more, filling your pussy to the brim with a loud moan. he let go, his cock throbbing with your walls clenching around it as he came inside you, shooting thick ropes of sticky white into you. it felt too good, all of it. he loved how warm you were, how tight you felt, how he always felt like he was breaking you with nothing but the size of his cock.

you moaned at the feeling of his hot cum seeping into your cunt, the scent of smoke lingering in his mouth as you kissed him once more. then, you felt yourself fall apart. you came just as hard, your vision going blurry as you clenched around his softening cock, pussy tightening around it as it spasmed some more, as if to tell you that you had milked it dry once again. you fell apart as you leaned back onto your elbows, spreading your legs farther apart to give johnny one last peek. he saw it, the way his cock slipped out of you and pushed against your slit, oozing with cum he didn’t even know he had in him. he watched the way your cunt throbbed, some of his seed spilling out as you did so. his cock felt hot against your naked thigh, threatening to harden a second time.

the opportunity was cut short as you stood up, swinging you bare legs off the bed. “going so fast?” johnny didn’t mean for it to sound as desperate as it did, truly. he watched as you approached your desk, taking another cigarette from the box and pressing it to your lips. you looked too good to be true—your makeup was smeared with tears, your hair slick with sweat, your lips plump and swollen, every curve of your naked body mingling with the light that filtered through the curtains. you turned to face him with a smile, crossing your legs despite being on display for him once more.

“got a date scheduled,” your tone was casual, as if you were oblivious to the ache that flared up in his stomach as your words cut through the silence. you were, in fact, very oblivious. more smoked passed your lips as you flashed him a smile, tucking the filter back into your mouth as you slid your panties back on. “we can go again tonight if i come back.”

if you came back. it was almost like you wanted him to suffer, but you didn't. it was nobody’s fault but his own. the thought of another man having you in any way that came to mind made him sick to his stomach, but there was nothing he could do about it. you were just friends, after all. so, he forced himself to lean back, crossing his arms behind his head as he forced a smile. “i hope you have a great time,” he lied. everything about it was a lie, after all. you smiled, your gaze alive with light as you looked at him like he was all you had. he was. after all, he was your best friend.

✧.*

[blondemrk]

GAME OVER

wc 334 ° • ★ . ° • chenle x fem!reader

the neon lights flickered overhead as y/n crouched behind a barrier, gripping her laser gun tightly. her heart pounded—not just from the game, but from the fact that somewhere in the dark, chenle was hunting her down.

and knowing him, he was enjoying every second of it.

“you can run,” his voice echoed through the maze, smooth and cocky, “but you can’t hide forever, baby.”

y/n rolled her eyes, trying to steady her breath. he was always like this—smug, competitive, and way too good at everything. the worst part? he made it look effortless.

she peeked around the corner, scanning for any sign of him—

but before she could react, a hand grabbed her wrist, yanking her back into the shadows.

a gasp left her lips as her back hit the wall, chenle’s body pressing against hers, his laser vest glowing in the dim light. his smirk was pure arrogance, his eyes filled with mischief.

“gotcha,” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

y/n swallowed hard, pulse skyrocketing. “that’s not fair—”

“oh, it’s completely fair,” he interrupted, tilting his head slightly. “you just weren’t fast enough.”

she glared up at him, but it was hard to focus when he was this close—when she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, see the teasing curve of his lips. he was enjoying this way too much.

and then, before she could fully process what was happening, chenle leaned in and kissed her.

it was sudden, dizzying, and completely unfair. his lips moved against hers with the same confidence he carried everywhere, stealing the breath straight from her lungs. his hands framed her face, holding her there like he had all the time in the world.

then, just as quickly as he had kissed her, he pulled back, his lips curving into a smirk as he lifted his laser gun.

beep

her vest flashed red.

chenle winked, stepping back. “game over, baby.”

and with that, he sauntered away, leaving y/n breathless, dazed, and completely doomed.

hi i love u chenle AND THE PERSON WHO MADE THE CHENLE ANON IM GETTING TO IT I PROMISE!!!

taglist @holyhaech @chenlezip @injvns @mrkified @narcisstict @polarisjisung

[ohmygs-blog]

hiii could you possibly do a dreamies text with the old tiktok trend that was like would you rather kiss me for $1 or someone else for $1000 if not that’s okay! i love all your posts btw <3

“would you rather kiss me or…”

thank u hope u like <3 (wrote this in between getting ready for work lol so it prob not the best)

[twilghtkoo]

hello i absolutely love your works! can i please kindly request a haechan drabble with this prompt 🥺 no pressure! thank you and stay safe! 🩷

pairings. streamer!haechan x streamer!reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship

warnings. gamer!haechan, short drabble :/

notes. LOVE THIS ANON *starts smashing keyboard*

[ masterlist | haechan masterlist ]

-

"chat, i cannot express this enough, but do not date a gamer. okay?" you joke facing the camera, as your gamer boyfriend is tugging your arm with light force.

he had walked into your streaming room, knowing you were streaming tonight. when you both are streaming it's an unspoken rule to not bother each other, but neither of you get upset if one walks in just to greet each other or to give a kiss goodbye if one of you are leaving the house.

but that's not the case right now, because haechan walked in with an empty stomach and asking when you were going to cook dinner.

your stream chat was going crazy when they saw your boyfriend walk into your room behind you.

haechan scoffs behind you, chuckling. "yah, what do you mean?"

you burst out laughing, his grip on your forearm loosening but you link your fingers with his before he drops his hand.

"i'm almost done, i'll end the stream in about an hour and i'll cook. what do you feel like eating?" you look up at him from your chair.

he ponders a bit before answering he wants spam fried rice.

"ok, sounds good. can you make the rice, can you at least do that?" you ask him with raised eyebrows.

he sucks his teeth, nudging you with the hand that's holding yours. "of course i can."

he leans down to show his face to your camera. "hi chat, be nice to my baby, my love, my little chef, my- ow!" he hisses, rubbing the top of his head where you smacked him.

"okay, okay, i'm going, but one more thing..." he smiles.

you huff out of slight annoyance, but it's all love. and he knows that.

"yes, hyuck?"

"do you know how to whistle?"

you tilt your head, confused at the random question. "i feel like i showed you i can't, look." and then you pucker your lips out and you attempt to blow out air to whistle but haechan's lips are on yours in a matter of seconds then he runs out your room giggling.

you blink, slowly turning your head to stare at your monitor and glancing at the chat.

you let out a breathy laugh, ignoring how red your cheeks look on camera. "like i said, don't date gamers kids."

user haechan is an exception !!

user LMAO mans got rizz

you nod slowly, grinning. "yes, haechan is an exception."

[jkbabiey]

mess it up • mark lee

wc: ~1.6K notes: cute little drabble for u guys starring my boi mark lee; all my gracie abrams stans will understand the references ;) it's angsty guys, so... yeah, enjoy!!

"hello?"

it was a little past 3 in the morning when mark was woken up by the ringing of his phone and your name on his screen. he hadn't given in on your first try, nor on the second. it was the third time you called him that night and mark was having a hard time not picking up.

but it wasn't the first time you did this. nor the second.

"hi," you said, your voice whispered and unstable.

you hadn't spoken in the past two weeks or so. not after you decided to play with mark's heartstrings for the millionth time, completely ignoring his undying feelings for you.

as if you had no idea they even existed.

mark and you had met during childhood, by chance, due to his inability to kick a soccer ball in the right direction - it ended up hitting you in the face and chucking your freshly-bought strawberry ice cream straight to the floor. he bought you a new ice cream (mixing up the flavors and buying a bubblegum-flavored ice cream instead). one year later, after you became self-proclaimed best friends, mark showed up by your window with a bucket of strawberry ice cream in his hands and a confession of his love for you in the tip of his tongue, promising to treat you right and to never get your ice cream order wrong again.

nothing ever worked out in mark's favor tho. you were awfully quick to dismiss his feelings, watching the disappointment settle in his eyes. crestfallen he walked back home and that same night, at around 1 am, without your parents knowing, you sneaked out to throw rocks at marks window, proposing to forget about that little bump and spend the night watching movies and eating strawberry ice cream. mark promptly accepted your proposal, letting you in.

that became the one topic neither you nor mark ever touched again. you never acknowledged the intense feelings mark nurtured for you every time you hung out at his or your house, and that became harder and harder for you, because if there was anything mark was awful at doing was hiding any emotion behind those eyes. his eyes never lied, especially when they settled on you and shined like he had never graced a more beautiful star.

so on your 19th birthday, you kissed him on the mouth, absolutely inebriated, after noticing the way he kept marveling at you as you swayed your hips side to side, with those big bright eyes of his. your lips were soft against his and you smiled at him after it ended, just to walk back to your group of girlfriends to keep dancing like you hadn't just kissed your best friend.

mark finally got the guts to bring it up again the day after your birthday, shyly muttering that he didn't think he had changed much from when he was 13 and in love with you. he remembers you just starring at him right in the eyes after the words left him, before your lips tentatively pecked his. right before your hands started wandering through parts of his body no one had ever touched before. right before you took his virginity and made him fall ten times harder for you.

just for you to ghost him for three whole months after it. you stopped answering his texts and calls. whenever mark tried to come to your place it was your mom opening the door and magically you were never home.

and then you called him one random night, crying, asking him to come over. he did. and just like that you were best friends again.

mark would always give you anything you asked from him, including the sudden kisses you stole from him, and the nights of pleasure in the middle of his sheets, from time to time. you took it all. and you took all that while still claiming to be his best friend and nothing more when your friends asked if you two were dating.

"i'm sorry, did i wake you up?" you asked through the phone. mark could tell you weren't home and had been crying.

"well, it is 3 am" he chuckled, trying to ease the nerves he knew were overflowing in your system. you chuckled too, muttering a small 'right'. "are you alright?"

"yeah... are you?"

"yeah."

it was silent after that. all you heard was his calm breathing and all he heard was your quick one paired with the sound of your sniffles. "can i come over?" you whimpered. mark could picture you with tearful eyes, biting down on your bottom lip to keep the cries from erupting.

you heard mark sigh. "y/n," he mumbled. "you can't keep doing this."

it had happened again. the running. it was as if a switch turned in you as soon as mark mentioned any type of love he nurtured for you. and you proved your avoidant nature once again two weeks ago when after a whole night spent in mark's bed, he let out the tiniest 'i love you' as he came inside you. it amazed him how you immediately freed yourself from his embrace after it was over, putting on your clothes in a rush and getting out of his room without saying a word or looking back at his resentful eyes for a second.

"i know mark, i just- please," you cried.

"dude, i'm serious. we've been doing this for years," you said, the anger he felt finally showing in his voice, even though he tried to sound as gentle as possible. "you can't keep giving me hope, just to freak out when i talk about the love you know i have for you. it's not like you're unaware of it. I've told you. and I'll tell you as many times as it takes for you to understand how i feel about you!"

"i know how you feel," you said, your voice wavering and mark closed his eyes at the sound burying his face in the palm of his hand. "i know, but I'm not ready to be what you want me to be. i can't do it-"

"well, you do a terrible job at showing that. you think kissing me is a good way of showing me you want nothing to do with me?"

"that's not-"

"y/n stop! if that's how you feel don't fucking call me at three in the morning asking to come over! just leave me alone."

"but i miss you," you cried, full sobs echoing through the call now. "I'm sorry. i can't stay away from you like that. you're my best friend!"

"that's not what i want to be tho!" he said, tone getting exponentially louder and he had to remind himself his parent were sleeping downstairs. "what do you not get? i want to be your boyfriend," he continued and heard your cries intensifying again. "you can't keep this up." he muttered, voice tired and heavy. "you come and go as you please, literally playing with my feelings. because you know i love you and I'll give you anything you want. you want to come over? fine. you want a kiss? okay. you want sex? I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything and you take advantage of that every fucking time. if you don't feel the same way, please, just stay away. let me get over this because if you just keep coming back i won't ever move on. you'll just keep hurting me."

by now, you could clearly hear mark's voice getting heavy with tears he was probably holding back for your sake.

"i know i never was the best to you. i'm sorry. i'm sorry i made you cry tonight. i didn't mean to," you said, sniffling in the middle of your words. "i love you."

and just like that you hung up. immediately, mark broke down in his bed. his back pressed against his mattress, his hands covering his wet eyes as his chest heaved quickly in the darkness of his room. the last thing he ever wanted was to make you feel bad about anything. he loved you with his whole body and soul and had to struggle with himself to not call you back after your quick 'i love you'. but then he would keep walking in circles and letting you walk all over him once again.

he wouldn't give in. not this time.

he fell asleep with a heavy heart and a pounding head - missing your fourth call.

'pick up dude' - y/n, 4:04 AM

'bro i was actually outside your place this whole time. can u come open the door? let's talk fr' - y/n, 4:05 AM

'pls it's freezing' - y/n, 4:05 AM

'do i have to throw rocks at your window again?' - y/n, 4:06 AM

'fine, i'll just go home then' - y/n, 4:08 AM

'i get that you're very angry at me, but I love you. i'm sorry if i fell out of line when i called you. I want to take this seriously, you'll just have to guide me through it all because I'm very very VERY scared. u know i never had a boyfriend, right? please call me when you see this. pls pls pls call me, even if you hate me and don't want to date me anymore.' - y/n, 4:27 AM

'can't lose you.' - y/n, 4:27 AM

[huihuiheart]

Doll - NCT - Taeyong (ft. Jeno) - Drabble

Navigation

NCT Masterlist

Pairing:  Dom! Taeyong + Switch! Jeno + Sub! Female Reader

Warnings: Threesome sex, sex toys, dom/sub themes, dirty talk, cursing, spanking, daddy kink, sir kink, oral ( f receiving), 

Word Count: 951

“Babe, I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about a threesome with one of the guys. That being said, Jeno did ask me specifically for help.” Taeyong shrugs as he explains his stand yet again and you shake your head a little but ease up slightly.

“With what exactly? Learning how to make a girl cum? Cause if that’s the case you better do well, you know I don’t have the patience for teasing.” You roll your eyes, yet imply that you weren’t opposed to his suggestion, at least not really.

Taeyong laughs and shakes his head, “Don’t worry sweetheart, he knows how to make a girl cum. Quite well too from what I’ve heard. What he needs help with is learning how to dom, and considering how subby my sweetheart is, you're a good start for him.” 

“Who’s to say I won’t be a brat?” You muse and it earns you a swift smack to your ass from your boyfriend.

“The fact that I’ll be there to put you back in place if need be. Just cause we’d be teaching him doesn’t mean I won’t be participating or stepping in when necessary.” Taeyong’s voice slips a little with his warning, sending a shiver down your spine as you lick your lips and smirk at him.

“Well then, go ahead and call Jeno over....daddy~”

Taeyong groans softly at the way you purr the title, pulling out his phone to do exactly as you said, while you went to make sure that the bedroom was alright for when your guest arrived. Taeyong leaned against the doorframe to watch with a soft smirk.

“Well since you agreed, it might be good to let you know about the fact that Jeno has a bit of a crush on you.” He informs you, a smirk lifting onto your face to match his at his words. Before you turn to face him, licking your lips.

“That’ll just make tonight more interesting don’t you think?” Your response is playful and has Taeyong raising a brow, but only more intrigued as to how the night would go. 

Soon enough Jeno is there and through the door, eyes raking over your form as he slips off his coat before stalking closer. His gaze flicked from you to Taeyong for a moment.

“So what are my limits then?” He asks both of you and Taeyong shrugs.

“I’m alright with whatever she is unless I think you’re taking things too far of course,” Taeyong answers, giving him free rein within reason and that thought alone has another set of chills running through your spine.

“I’m fine with anything. I’m yours tonight as well Jeno.” You purr seductively already backing towards the bedroom, with both men following closely. They were in charge, but you still had some control as they both lusted over you. Taeyong steps aside though and lets Jeno go first, interested in seeing what will happen.

“Let’s see what you think you know then, be careful though she’ll get bratty fast if you aren’t careful.” Taeyong encourages Jeno with a smirk.  The younger raises a brow at you as he steps up and grips your jaw.

“Oh, you like being a little brat baby?” Jeno’s words hold a challenge, but you were stunned enough that your silver tongue didn’t immediately bounce back and he smirks.

“You know, I was gonna play nice so that I didn’t hurt your ego too badly sir.” You coyly bat your eyelashes, stealing his smirk away and earning a soft growl and soft swat at your ass, making you moan.

Jeno’s eyes widen a little at how easily you moaned from the little spank, before his face turns smug again, “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan… It was like a fucking melody.” 

He sees you about to retort and shut you up in the most effective way possible....with his lips. Trying to assert his dominance through that form as you hear Taeyong shuffling before his hands are on you from behind, tugging your shirt up even if it means breaking the kiss. Jeno’s hands fall to your pants, to undress you further as they both get more anxious to play with you. Jeno lets Taeyong take care of your bra and panties while he takes off his shirt, followed by his belt which he lays on the bed making you raise your brow.

“That’s for if you decide to be a brat again.” Jeno licks his lip as all the thoughts of possibilities make you shudder with a new wave of arousal. Oh, you’d definitely be a brat more, but the other thing you noted over there had you obeying for the moment. A vibrator, something you wanted to see what he would do with, what he had in mind. So you listened for now and followed Taeyong onto the bed after he took off his own shirt. Leaning back against his bare chest, before spreading your legs to expose your glistening folds to Jeno who bites his lip in an attempt to hide a moan. Toy in hand and he crawls beneath your thighs, messing with the settings as he laps at your folds, earning a quiet, shaky fuck from you. When he presses the vibrator to your clit while his tongue dips into your entrance though it has you buzzing, legs twitching and moans rising in volume fast.

“What? Does that feel good?” Taeyong’s voice in your ear is only slightly mocking as he watches you fall apart for the man between your plush thighs, the man in question pulling away a little to look over your form with a soft chuckle.

“Oh doll, we’re just getting started~”

[solaris-amethyst]

💫Midnight Talks💫

✨Pairing: bf!Hendery x gn!reader ✨Prompt: Can I request a bf!Hendery drabble where YN have a nightmare and calls him just to make sure he's OK? ✨Requested by a lovely anon🫶🏻 ✨Genre: fluff, partners au ✨Word Count: 0.9k ☀️Authors Note: Thank you so much for requesting!🫶🏻🥰

You woke up with a jolt, cold sweat covering your body as you sat up looking around frantically for the one person who had been hurt in your dream.

There was only one problem.

He was not at home right now, you were all alone and in your newly awakened state of worry due to your nightmare it was translated to that he most certainly was hurt.

Before you could stop them the tears were falling from your eyes, down your cheeks gathering up at the tip of your chin before slowly falling down onto your hands which were holding the blanket tightly.

You felt awful as the first sob was let out. Carefully searching for the little button on your nightstand to turn on the lights.

Momentarily blinded when the lights finally light up you squinted your eyes before finding your phone.

Quickly opening it and finding your boyfriend's contact was easy but pressing the call button at first was hard. Hesitating at first because what if you would disturb him in the middle of the night?

He was away on a conference with his job for a few days and must be tired was something that crossed your mind until you remembered what had happened in your dream.

You pressed the call button and made sure to put it on speaker so you could just hold the phone in your hand.

It felt like it was ringing forever.

Every time you heard the signal instead of Hendery picking up it made you more and more worried.

"Hello? Y/n?" Henderys groggy voice could suddenly be heard from the speaker and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding in.

"Babe? You there? Are you okay?" He questioned sounding a bit clearer as if he had shaken away the grogginess of just waking up from the phone ringing.

"Hendery..."

"Are you okay? Are you sad? You sound sad babe, has something happened??" He sounds worried now and you sigh before telling him:

"I had a nightmare... and you got hurt in the dream. I'm sorry I woke you up I just had to make sure you were okay." You ramble on and before you continue your little rant the request for a FaceTime call popped up on your phone.

You clicked on accept quicker than you could think and seeing your boyfriends face, hair tousled and eyes slightly bleary.

"Hi." You say and he smiles brightly when he sees you.

"Hello gorgeous."

"I'm hardly gorgeous right now, I feel like shit." You confess to him and he gasps.

"Do not say that! Now what is this about a bad dream about me? Want to talk about it?" He asks gently and you give him a little nod.

"I can't remember it all but you got really hurt in it and then you disappeared from me and I couldn't find you. It scared me just seeing blood on the floor but not finding you nor hearing you respond to me when I called." You confess to him and he nods as he listens before sitting up a bit more.

"Well I can assure you I am totally fine." He shows you himself with the camera proving he is well and unhurt which makes you relax a little bit.

"And I'd never leave you, like ever. I'd rather cling to you like a koala all the time if I could and every time you call I will always answer you. No matter what."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

You sniffle and dries away the remaining tear stains from your cheeks as Hendery gives you another smile, his eyes twinkling prettily in the light from his desk lamp.

That's when you notice the figure in the other bed sleeping soundly.

"Is that Dejun? Won't he wake up with us talking so loudly?" You whisper and Hendery snorts almost laughing before shaking his head.

"Nah he sleeps like a rock. I'm not kidding when I say he could sleep through anything during the night." Your partner reassures you but you still feel a bit bad at potentially waking him up.

"Are you sure? Both of you have lots to do tomorrow..." You trail off as Hendery gets up from his bed and walks over to Dejun.

"See? He won't wake up." He flips the camera so you can see as he gently pokes Dejuns face or lightly messes with him as he giggles loudly.

You know you shouldn't laugh but you cannot help it when Hendery starts making Dejun do certain faces like turning his mouth up so it looks like he's smiling and much more.

"Hendery stop that!" You snort and you can hear the smirk in his voice when he says: "But I'm cheering you up! Also listen! He snores but have the audacity to claim that he don't snore when I tell him that he does! Now you can help me prove I'm right." He tells you before growing quiet so you can hear your friend actually snoring.

"He denies it? Of course he does... Dejun would never admit he snores." You chuckle "But now please leave him alone..." You yawn and Hendery flip the camera back to him.

"You should lay back to sleep, I'll stay on the call with you until you've fallen back to sleep and don't you dare tell me I shouldn't! I want to do that okay? I'll guard over you and will stay until you feel safe enough to fall asleep again." He says looking serious before getting back into bed and turning his light off at the same time as you do.

"Promise you'll stay on the call until I've fallen asleep?" You question as you lay down again, phone next to you.

"I promise gorgeous."

[haespoir]

try again: ldh.

never not, pt 2!

⨯ pairing: ex!haechan x reader

⨯ word count: 1.4k 

⨯ summary: sleeping with your ex wasn't the best idea when you're too much of a coward to face him after. thankfully, haechan's anger seems to be enough courage for the both of you.

⨯ warnings: uhmmm no content warnings that i can think of... fluff n angst is all i've got.. haechan is desperate and reader gives in easily... just like me fr

⨯ playlist: try again, jaehyun / clementine, grantperez / wayo, bang yedam / universe, thuy 

⨯ extra content: part one

⨯ a/n: finally... part two is here!!! i hope you guys enjoy it.. i wanted to include more angst... but i couldn't do it. feedback is always greatly appreciated 🩵

. . .

Waking up to an empty bed has Haechan livid, like absolutely enraged. No one could calm the male down, not that they even wanted to try. It was an unspoken rule to just let Haechan feel his emotions; the male felt everything so intensely that it was useless to even attempt to help. 

He couldn’t believe it. If there weren’t bruises scattered along his neck, he would have believed it was some horribly fucked up dream. It was so cruel of you to leave him like this. Even if he had more than a few drinks the night before, he was honest and true in his intentions of wanting to talk. Maybe somewhere along the way the execution was messed up, but he was determined. 

Which is why he gives himself time to cool off. Barging into your apartment when he was seeing red was not a wise decision, he knew that much at least. Haechan was not the same immature kid he was when you guys began dating, and he wanted to prove that to you. 

He did. 

He really did. 

But old habits die hard. 

haechan [1:05 pm]: i gave you three hours since i’ve woken up  haechan [1:05 pm]: answer the damn phone  haechan [1:05 pm]: you’re not getting off the hook that easily haechan [1:30 pm]: don’t leave me on read  haechan [1:30 pm]: i know where you live  you [1:31 pm]: is that a threat?  haechan [1:32 pm]: it doesn’t have to be  haechan [1:32 pm]: talk to me haechan [1:32 pm]: please  you [1:36 pm]: tomorrow  haechan [1:39 pm]: not a fucking chance  haechan [1:40 pm]: i'm coming over you [1:50 pm]: the code is the same

You weren’t sure how you were going to prepare for this one. The walk of shame out of Haechan’s room was already enough emotional torment for the day. You weren’t ready to face him. You couldn’t think of a single excuse, and you knew Haechan was ready to eat you alive. 

Before you can even stop it, the tears begin to pool. You don’t even attempt to fight it as you sit on your couch, the tears rapidly decorating your cheeks. How did you tell your first love that you were a coward? How did you tell him that you loved him so intensely it scared you? At some point during your first year of college, you had begun to spiral when every icebreaker in a class involved Haechan. 

What do you like doing? 

Hmm, you usually watched your boyfriend's game with his friends.

Who’s your closest friend? 

Oh easy, Haechan. 

Girls night? 

Sorry, you were hanging out with Haechan. 

Being so dependent on him was terrifying, but you knew that you couldn’t stop. So you had to cut him off; there were probably better ways to go about it, but you didn’t give it much thought. 

It was so unfair to him. 

You can’t even begin to fall down that rabbit hole because there’s a sudden pressure on the couch next to you. Haechan was faster than you thought; in fact, it was probably a record speed for Haechan to arrive somewhere. He was someone who enjoyed being fashionably late, anything to make a grand entrance. However, for once, he decides to enter quietly. After all, the fact that the code to your apartment was still his birthday was something that he hoped had more meaning than just being a memorable set of numbers. 

“Why are you crying?” You flinch visibly at his tone. You remind yourself that you did this to yourself. Haechan had months of pent-up frustration, and you were prepared to take the entire thing. 

That was a lie, by the way. 

Because you can’t even bring yourself to look at him. “Do you want a snack? I bought some clementines recently.” You’re deflecting; you both know it. Without giving him a chance to even reply, you rush to the kitchenette in your studio apartment. Once you’re far enough, you steal a glance at Haechan. 

Seeing him spread on your couch like that squeezed your heart in ways you could not describe. He looked like he belonged there, like there was no place in the world better than your couch in your small apartment for him to be. Even now when you feared that this would turn into a screaming match and that you both would be left with a hurting heart once again, you knew that you would always love the man who sat in your living room. 

He was your universe, your everything. The fact that two years had gone by did not change the connection between you two. It was like you had never left his side; you were his perfect puzzle piece. 

And you prayed, as you gathered a few clementines and a plate, that you hadn’t ruined it completely. 

Once you’re seated next to him again, you allow yourself the small distraction of peeling the citrus for him. Without realizing it, you’re both sitting in silence; you’re peeling the small fruit and handing each piece to Haechan. It’s like you’ve fallen into a familiar routine. He takes each piece of fruit without much thought, savoring the tart flavor. He swears it tastes best when you’re peeling it for him, even going as far as to remove the pith for him. He always complained that the small strings were too bitter. Someone as sweet as him shouldn’t be eating it, you used to say. 

Unknowingly, Haechan’s anger seems to disappear as the nostalgia creeping through his body appears. After all, he was always him when he was with you. 

“Why did you do it?” His voice is small when he speaks as if eating had drained him of all the anger coursing through his veins. 

“I had to. You consumed my every waking thought,” you reply, feeling the tears beginning to well up. “It’s such a shitty excuse, I know. But I should not be in my general ed classes thinking of marrying my high school sweetheart.” Your attempt at a joke is poor because it’s true. That was something you both knew; there were many nights where you two had laid in his bed, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders as you discussed married life. 

But when you realized just how deep you were, you became scared. Terrified. It was so overwhelming to be in love with someone like Donghyuck. The fear of the unknown had beaten you down. 

“That’s so unfair, and you know it,” he says in disbelief. So he was right last night. “I had spent so many months thinking I did something wrong; that there was something wrong with me. You made me think I was unlovable.” 

Your heart breaks into a million pieces at his words. Had you done that to him? How could he even look at you right now? 

“Oh, Hyuck,” you sniffled, letting his nickname slip into your vocabulary as if it had never left. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Your hands are cupping his face, wiping the tears that spilled from his eyes. Your fingers smelled of citrus as you wiped his tears. At that moment, your love was an offering of your soul and sincerity, an act that spoke volumes to him. “Forgive me,” it declared, “I love you so dearly.” 

“That has never been the case. I don’t think there’s a single person who hasn’t fallen in love with you at least once in their life.” You can only hope your sincerity reaches him.  

“Well, there’s Renjun…” You roll your eyes at his attempt to be humorous, feeling a bit better knowing that whatever was going on in his head wasn’t bad enough for him to not crack a joke. 

Without a word, Haechan is wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his head into your shoulder. “What about you?” he murmurs. “How many times have you fallen in love with me?” 

You chew your lip, not fighting your instinct when your hands go to his hair. “I don’t think I could count,” you say. “I fall in love with you every day.” 

“Even now?” 

You hum, pressing a small kiss to the crown of his head. “Even now.” 

That seems to satisfy him. Quickly, he’s pushing onto the couch, the plate of citrus quickly forgotten as he cuddles into your side. “We’ll be alright, right?” It’s a question, but you think it’s more for him than it is for you. You hum again, intertwining your fingers with his. “I want to try again.” 

This time you don’t fight it. After all, you were his clementine. His inevitable lover. 

[haechanhues]

Heart And All

pairing : a relationship that has never been defined! liu yangyang x gender-neutral!reader

genre : sick fic. angst.

warnings : sick fic! mentions of hospital and the typical hospital related warnings (sickness/dying/medications etc)

summary : you visit yangyang in the hospital.

You're a little nervous, unsure about whether or not you should be there or if you even deserve to be there. His friends know you as a rendezvous that they're used to on a Friday night. His family know you as a regular face during some early morning breakfast with easy conversations.

It was a casual situationship that bordered on relationship and friendship, crossing the barriers more often than not. But it was fine. Labels weren't necessary neither were they scary.

Until now

The smell of antiseptic was once a comfort to you. You ceased to understand why people would find it traumatic, you found it soothing, healing.

Now, you understood.

A little.

You find Liu Yangyang, jokester. Pain in your ass. The only person who seems to understand you body and soul. Heart and all. Looking too frail and weak on the hospital bed.

His soft eyes, and soft conversation with his mother halts at the sight of you by the entrance.

"Hi darling," Yangyang's mother sweetly smiles at you, "Come in."

"You came?" Yangyang questioned, a little touched. You look pretty as per usual. But hes super excited by the sight of you. Finally someone that isn’t his family that hover over him, nor his friends that sneak him shots of alcohol only to drink them themselves seeing his state.

You nod, a basket of fruit sitting awkwardly in your hands.

"That doesn't suit you," He comments and he's quickly chastised by his mother swiping him across the chest. You see the way he smiles, almost as if he's chasing the normalcy of being told off by his mother for his cheeky retorts.

Yangyang's mother excuses herself, rubbing your shoulder before exiting.

"Thanks, dickhead," You huff, and Yangyang's mother loves the laugh that escapes her son's mouth as she wanders down the hallway to give the two of you space. Her arm quickly wrapping around her husband's in a tight grip and an emotional sniff of breath.

You kneel beside him on the bed, eyes trailing across his body with wide eyes.

"Do I look that terrible?" He snorts and he expects you to laugh. To smile. Be the normal he craves. You know he does.

But,

Your expression crumbles instead, and he's alarmed by the pure emotion that glazes your eyes over, "I'm sorry."

He frowns, leaning over to wrap you in an awkward embrace, courtesy of the wires he's plugged into and the IV drip, "Why are you sorry?"

"I wasted too much time," You confess, gluggy in the throat and stuffy in the nose, "All this time."

"It's not too late at all," Yangyang chuckles, "Tell me what you want to."

"I like you," You vent, "Have for ages. So much so that I think I love you now..Surprise!"

His body shakes with laughter, but even he can feel his eyes welling with unshed tears, holding you, "I love you too."

He listens to the slow rise and fall of your chest. And you feel the warmth of his body soothing you. You've got your chin hooked over his shoulder as if you're the sick one.

His arms are like pillars, strong and inviting. And you feel the butterflies as his soft hair brushes against the skin of your shoulders and lightly touches the skin of your neck.

It's quiet.

But you enjoy it.

Basking in the hold a little longer before visiting hours end. You don’t talk and neither does he.

It’s serenity.

He smells like baby soap and bandages but you can’t help but settle into it. Committing it to memory.

Warmth like you’ve never felt before.

"This is comfy," You whisper, pulling away. Laughing softly as his head follows your body, "Are you sleeping, love?"

‘Love’ is a first, but you hope to use it more often starting right now.

You laugh because you don't know.

And you only stop laughing when you see.

Your body moves on auto pilot. Feeling the rush of movement around you. He sleeps and sleeps. Even when his friends and family plead with him. Bargain with him and with people they can't see.

Even when they push on his chest.

Even when they record the time.

He sleeps and doesn't wake up.

author's note : ❤️

[zeroseuniverse]

Bother?

Word Count: 520 Summary: “You’re not sleeping out here by yourself. Either we both squeeze onto this tiny couch, or you come back to bed with me.” Pairing: Ten X reader

Taglist: @sh0dor1

Navigation

Ten groggily blinked awake, stretching his arm out to the side, only to find cold sheets where warmth should have been. His brows furrowed as he shifted, the faint hum of the heater filling the silence of their bedroom.

He rolled over and glanced at the clock—2:47 AM. Too late for you to still be up, yet too early for you to already be moving around. His sleepy confusion turned into mild concern as he sat up, rubbing his eyes before swinging his legs off the bed.

Padding out of the bedroom, he followed the dim glow of the living room lamp. His steps faltered when he saw you curled up on the couch, a thin throw blanket barely covering you. Your arm was tucked under your head, body curled in a way that looked anything but comfortable.

Ten sighed quietly, kneeling beside you. His fingers ghosted over your cheek before brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “What are you doing out here?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

You stirred but didn’t fully wake. He frowned, his gaze softening as he took in the sight of you—your brows slightly furrowed, the way your body seemed tense even in sleep.

Guilt pricked at him. Did something happen? Did he do something?

“Babe,” he whispered, shaking you gently. Your eyes fluttered open, dazed and unfocused at first until recognition settled in.

“Ten?” your voice was barely above a whisper.

“Why are you sleeping here?” he asked again, softer this time.

You hesitated before mumbling, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Ten frowned. “Bother me? Love, you never bother me.” He reached for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “What’s wrong?”

You sighed, looking away. “You seemed really tired today, and I didn’t want to wake you up with my tossing and turning.”

Ten’s lips parted in realization. “baby… that’s—” he exhaled, shaking his head before shifting to sit on the couch beside you. “Come here,” he murmured, gently tugging at your arm.

You blinked up at him, confused. “Huh?”

“You’re not sleeping out here by yourself. Either we both squeeze onto this tiny couch, or you come back to bed with me.”

You chewed on your lip. “But—”

“No buts,” Ten cut in, wrapping his arms around you and effortlessly lifting you up. A startled squeak left your lips as he carried you bridal-style back to the bedroom. “See? No effort at all. You could never be a bother.”

Setting you down on the bed, he slid in beside you, pulling the covers over both of you before wrapping an arm securely around your waist. His warmth quickly enveloped you, making it impossible to protest.

“You don’t have to sleep somewhere else just because you think I need rest,” he mumbled against your hair. “I sleep better when you’re next to me.”

Your heart softened at his words. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, melting into his embrace.

“Just promise me you won’t do it again.”

You nodded, letting sleep finally take you, this time wrapped in Ten’s warmth where you belonged.

[flurrys-creativity]

February Filth Fest ~ Day 6: Double Penetration

Pairing: Jaehyun (NCT) x Fem!Reader x Johnny (NCT); Genre: friends to friends with benefits? or lovers, smut, pwp; Rating: nsfw, 18+, MDNI; Warnings: talk about pregnancy, unprotected sex, double penetration; Wordcount: 882

Summary: One game of basketball quickly turned into a game of pleasure.

A/N: Thank you to @sanjoongie and @anyamaris for listening to my word dump and help me figure out this scene.

Masterlist

Johnny sat on a bench nearby the basketball court. He had his camera in his hands, flicking through the pictures he just took.

All of them were with you and Jaehyun, playing in a one on one against each other. 

Your laugh rang through the air as you grabbed the ball, hid it underneath your shirt and pressed it against your stomach, turning away from Jaehyun, who yelled at you and tried getting the ball back.

Jaehyun wrapped his arms around your torso, pulling your back against his strong chest. He even lifted you off the ground, your feet dangling helplessly in the air.

Johnny immediately raised his camera and took another shot of the scene unfolding in front of him. He snickered in amusement, seeing how Jaehyun twirled you around with the biggest grin on his face. “You two look like a couple excited from their pregnancy journey.”

Jaehyun stopped spinning you around, turning to look at his friend with surprise written all over his face. His gaze slowly lowered until he stared at your profile from behind, noticing how you tried to make yourself smaller than you were and hide away from both of them. 

You bit on your lower lip, blinking heavily while you tried to hide your embarrassment. You felt the heat creep up your chest, your neck and further up your face. 

Johnny stood up, moving towards the both of you with a knowing grin forming on his lips. He exchanged a silent conversation with his friend simply through his eyes and a short nodding movement of his head.

“Do you want to be stuffed like that?” Jaehyun leaned down to whisper into your ear. His lips brushed against the shell and made you shiver in anticipation.

You didn’t notice their smirks and knowing expressions, too consumed with the scenes playing out inside your mind. You hadn’t even processed it completely, before you realised you were nodding already.

“Care to help?” This time Jaehyun addressed his question to Johnny, who pursed his lips in order to seem somewhat serious about this situation.

Johnny carefully put his camera aside and moved towards you two. He gently pried the basketball from your hands, simply dropping it to the ground. 

The basketball on your stomach got replaced with his large hands caressing your skin. At the same time Jaehyun began kissing along your neck, squeezing your hips and pressing your behind against his hardening dick.

They guided you towards the benches, their hands all over your body and under your clothes. 

Jaehyun sat down on the bench, opening his pants and pulling out his cock. He pumped himself with one hand and leaned back on his other, watching you and Johnny making out in front of him.

Johnny pulled your clothes away and moved you towards Jaehyun, making you sit down on his lap while still facing him. 

You moaned out loud when Jaehyun pumped his cock, brushing along your folds in the process. 

“Shit, you’re getting wet so easily”, he exhaled, feeling excitement build up inside of him. The wetness easily spread over his fingers and coated his shaft. After a few more strokes he slipped into you, immediately bottoming out. 

Your jaw dropped open and you closed your eyes from the pleasure.

“Don’t forget about me.” Johnny chuckled while revealing his hard on. He tapped the head of his dick against your lower lip. His grin widened when you automatically stretched your tongue out. 

You nearly gagged when he pushed into your mouth, drool running down your chin. You moaned around his shaft, the penetration from Jaehyun making you go crazy.

Both Johnny and Jaehyun thrusted into you with different paces, driving you to the edge easily. You were a moaning and squirming mess between these two, yet you needed even more.

Johnny pulled out of your mouth, pushing both you and Jaehyun down on the bench. He grabbed your thighs and spread them apart, staring at your hole and how Jaehyun continued pushing into you. His fingers danced across the sensitive skin of your inner thigh until he reached your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck!” Jaehyun groaned out in pleasure. “Do that again, she just squeezed me so fucking tightly.”

Johnny clicked with his tongue. “I need her to relax though, otherwise we won’t fit in together.” Johnny moved his long fingers from your bundle of nerves to your hole, stretching you even more.

You cried out in pleasure. On one hand you feared they wouldn’t fit at all since both of them were rather big, but on the other hand you desperately wanted them to try - and most importantly to go through with it.

All of you moaned the second Johnny pushed his dick into you as well. 

You inhaled sharply, the stretch borderlining on being painful. Though when they moved again the pleasure overtook your whole body. 

It felt like you came all too quickly, your mouth drying up, your nerves being alight and the knot in your lower stomach exploding like fireworks. 

Johnny and Jaehyun pulled out of you shortly afterwards, leaving you empty and spent. Jaehyun had his arms wrapped around your body, keeping you on top of him. Johnny leaned over the both of you, breathing heavily. 

“We should do that more often.”

Day 5 | Day 7

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland