round & round! â
[ l.dh ]
{đ} hyuck : i suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss you, but now everyoneâs kissing you except me :/
[â] pairing. haechan x reader, slight jaemin x reader ft. 00â line, chaewon of lesserafim and sieun of stayc
[â] genre. smut + fluff | stoner!nct, pwp bc itâs me
[â] wc. 6.1k
[â] warnings. explicit content (mdni), weed/marijuana use, lots of making out, slight choking, dirty talk, fingering, sexual stuff in a semi-public place, use of the word âslutâ, very slight degradation, not very proofread, pretty tame tbh
[â] notes. my first time writing again in like??? two years???? istg i didnât mean to abandon this acc đ pls be nice i havenât written in a while and this is not my most favourite work but iâm warming up for more stuff in da future i just wanted to post a lil self-indulgent smth abt hyuck bc bfâď¸ idk how active iâll be because of uni and other things but i missed u guys!!! any feedback is appreciated enjoy :p
even through the clouds of smoke engulfing the little living room of jeno and jaeminâs shared flat, your hooded eyes still met.
today was an important day amongst your friend group; it was chaewonâs first time smoking up with everyone. your friends werenât really the type to pressure anyone into doing anything they werenât sure about, but considering the astounding majority who enjoyed smoking some variation of weed, group sessions were a frequent occurrence. you either joined in or didnât, chaewon being the latter until she decided of her own accord that she was going to try it with the people she trusted.
you sesh with jeno most often, seeing as he was the one who introduced you to weed and taught you everything you know about it. after weeks of listening to you complain about sleepless nights, jeno suggested you try smoking a joint before you go to bed, especially since it was starting to affect your attendance. (âi canât keep attending these zoology classes without you, y/n. every time something stupid happens, i laugh and make a joke out loud because i forget you arenât there, and now iâm pretty sure people think iâm either insane or just really fucking lonelyâ.)
now, smoking up has been a pretty regular occurrence, especially since jeno introduced you to a bunch of his friends and vice versa, all of you making up one big, happy group of stoners. chaewon and sieun were your friends who got along with everyone else just fine, and though they didnât hang out with the others as much as you did, they were still welcome whenever.
presently, you are leaning back against the couch, all the way on the end, because jaemin is sprawled out alongside you, opting to rest his legs on your lap. haechan makes a joke that you donât understand, but you laugh anyway along with everyone else, except renjun who covers up his laugh with cough.
âyou can never let me have it, huh?â, hyuck scoffs, narrowing his eyes at renjun whoâs mouth forms a thin line. âi know for a fact you find me funny.â
you hear that he makes a remark back at haechan but what he says doesnât register in your head, everything sounding far away. remembering the special occasion, you turn to face chaewon and sieun, who are giggling away on the floor about something between the two of them. you donât know what they said but you smile anyway. she clearly seemed like she was having a good trip, and so was everyone else.
swallowing nothing, you realise how dry your throat feels, and with that realisation came this undeniable desire for some form of liquid. âjen,â, you tilt your head back and call out to the boy who was already rolling another joint on the table behind you. âdid you end up buying more coke?â
âcheck the fridgeâ, he mumbles without looking at you, tongue poking his cheek out of concentration as he focuses on what he was doing. with a groan, you heave jaeminâs legs off your lap, muttering a couple âsorryâs when he starts to complain about the change in position.
you all but float to the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge and spotting the fresh cans of coke placed neatly in the overcrowded appliance. the first gulp feels like heaven against your parched throat, taking a few more while standing there.
âyou gonna share or no?â, a voice startles you, turning to find haechanâs figure looming right behind you with a dopey smile on his face.
âgod, we need to get you a bell or something. i never hear you comingâ, you roll your eyes before grabbing two glasses from the cabinet. youâre disappointed to see that there was no ice in their freezer, but you pour the drink into the glass anyway.
âwhy are you pouring it into a glass?â, haechan furrows his eyebrows, looking pointedly between the glass and the literal can in your hand. ânow we have to wash two glasses when we couldâve just drank it from the can.â
heâs right, of course, but youâre not gonna tell him that. instead, you pretend that you were planning on adding some lemon juice to the drink because you saw it on instagram. while you figure he doesnât believe you, he humours you anyway and tries your little concoction, which ends up being pretty damn good.
out of all of jenoâs friends, haechan definitely stood out to you. you didnât really understand why, you were just drawn to him, even way back before you met him, when jeno used to tell you about his friends. âloud and annoyingâ were the words he used to describe him, but the smile that appeared on his face anyway let you know that he was someone special to jeno. this was not to say his other friends werenât special, you got along incredibly well with all of them, meshing right in with their group.
as of right on cue, jaeminâs voice loudly sounds out from the living room, âare you guys fucking in there or what?â.
sighing, you pick up your glass and begin to walk out of the kitchen, but not before purposely knocking haechanâs shoulder when you walk past him, hearing him snort before following you out as you exit the room. perhaps if you had lingered in the kitchen for a couple seconds longer, you wouldâve heard haechan muttering something along the lines of âi wishâ under his breath.
âjeez, took you long enough, can i have some of that?â, renjun drawls, lifting himself off the armchair with a smile, to which you roll your eyes but pass him your glass anyway. you sit down on the floor opposite the couch and he looks as if he is about to compliment your drink-making skills before haechan cuts him off.
âdude, chaewon and sieun look like theyâre about to fall asleep, letâs do somethingâ, he half yawns out, opting to stroll over to your spot on the floor and sinking down next to you.
ânotâŚsleepyâŚâ, chaewon murmurs, but her voice is muffled because her cheek is pressed against sieunâs shoulder, both of them sprawled out on the floor like it was a comfortable bed.
âsure you arenâtâŚâ, jeno chides with a smile, getting up from the table to walk over to where all of you were situated. he twirls his newly rolled joint between his fingers, finally holding it out in his palm as if it were some magical gadget, and if you were being fully honest, you were sold. âround 2? or 3, I canât really rememberâŚâ
some words of agreement were muttered across the room, chaewon and sieun even groggily getting up from what looked like a very comfortable napping spot. another rotation began, and you made sure to blow out your smoke directly into an unsuspecting haechanâs face when it was your turn.
âletâs play a game or somethingâ, jaemin suggests, taking a long puff and passing it to jeno who sat beside him, and soon the room was hazy once again, the smell of weed infiltrating your nostrils.
âlike what?â, chaewon coughs weakly in between her hit and renjun pats her back before he hands her your coke that you hadnât received back after you gave it to him. so long for that.
âmonopoly?â, jeno offers with a shrug and haechan lets out an obnoxious snore as a reply, making you laugh but you cover it up with a cough when you meet jenoâs playfully narrowed eyes. âokay then, big guy, whatâs your incredible idea?â
haechan appears to actually think about it for a moment, looking around the room for some sort of inspiration maybe, until his eyes land on you.
âokay jaemin, get that empty wine bottle from last week, weâre playing spin the bottleâ, he is grinning from ear to ear, wiggling his eyebrows even though all his suggestion receives is a bunch of groans and sighs.
your eyebrows are raised however, and you try not to let your reaction show too much on your face. spin the bottle? you hadnât played that since you were maybe fourteen, but that was the least of your concerns at the moment. haechan wanted to play spin the bottle? who was he hoping to kiss? or was it just a whimsical little suggestion that was more of a joke?
it didnât fully seem like he meant it as a joke, judging by his expression as he awaited some actual responses from the group. âwhat are we, fourteen?â, renjun might as well have read your mind, but he soon joins you and haechan on the floor, the others following suit. jaemin presents the empty bottle and places it in the middle of the little circle you have formed, everyone seeming slightly more keen as the joint runs out.
maybe it was the thc talking, but it didnât really seem like a bad idea to you anymore. you were all single, attractive and close enough that it wouldnât make things weird, and most importantly, you wouldnât mind getting more familiar with haechanâs lips.
you shocked your own self with the sudden lewd thoughts in your head about the male sitting next to you, squirming in your position slightly. he turns his head towards you like he could hear your thoughts (âshut up, y/n, he canât hear your thoughtsâŚright?â) and you swear his eyes soften a bit. âare you sure you wanna play?â, he asks softly, mistaking your tenseness for discomfort, but you shake your head a little too quickly for your liking.
âno, no, letâs play, itâs not like we have anything better to do, right?â, you feign indifference and after everyone else agrees, the bottle is spun for the first time by haechan.
much to renjunâs dismay, it lands on him, and itâs almost comical the way he looks at the bottle pointing at him before slowly looking up at haechan. ârenjunnie, let me kiss youâ, haechan whines in a high pitched tone while drawing out the âyouâ, puckering his lips expectantly. the next three minutes consist of renjun listing every single person he would rather kiss than haechan, and youâd have half the mind to volunteer yourself if you werenât clutching at your sides laughing at the whole exchange, slapping at both jeno and sieun who tried and failed to dodge your waving hands.
renjun finally relents when chaewon suggests he lets him kiss his cheek instead, but haechan is no quitter so he makes sure that he plants the loudest, most wet kiss on his face before sighing in victory when he sits back down. renjun is not the most happy with this, and he tells jaemin to take his turn instead while he rushes off to the bathroom to wash his face. hyuck looks indignant, calling out behind renjun, asking if he wants another one.
taking the turn instead of renjun, jaemin spins the bottle harshly, and it spins and spins and spins for what seemed like an eternity. your eyes are so focused on the way the bottle looks as it spins that you donât even notice that it has stopped, until jeno nudges you with his shoulder. itâs neck is pointed directly at you, and you finally look up from your trance at jaemin, who wears an undeniable smirk on his face.
while you didnât exactly see him that way, there was absolutely no denying that jaemin was a very attractive man, and he was no different presently, the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up as he propped himself up with his arms, looking at you expectantly.
you donât want to look at haechan right now, because you can see out of the corner of your eye that his face is looking straight forward, not at you or jaemin, just forward. you wonder what is going through his head, but your thoughts are cut short when jaemin scoots closer to you in the circle.
âare you okay with this?â
and when you think about, you are. âyeah, i mean itâs just a gameâ, you reply, not wanting to ruin the fun or raise any suspicions, to which jaemin agrees and inclines his head towards you.
he kisses you, more fully than you were expecting, but you had no complaints really as you kissed him back, titling your head in the opposite direction to slip your lips over his. you wonder if your lips were as dry as they felt, and in the back of your mind it registers that your friends are watching you kiss your other friend because they hoot and giggle, but you canât really bring yourself to care.
jaeminâs lips taste sweet and he smells sweet, his touch soft as he brings a hand up to your cheek, gently holding it while he continues kissing you. it probably wasnât as long as it felt, but jaemin finally pulls away, the remnants of his sweet chapstick lingering on your lips. you are aware of how hot your face feels when you pull away and return to your spot, tucking your hair behind your ears.
âdude, what chapstick do you use?â, you ask after clearing your throat, and jaemin rummages in his pant pocket for a moment before whipping out a cute pink tube, holding it out in front of him. âstrawberry dream, babyâ, he winks, reapplying it on his lips. ânever go anywhere without it.â
renjun returns after god knows how long, stating that he had to re-do his skin care routine because haechan had completely thrown off his skinâs ph balance, and is saddened to hear that he missed witnessing you and jaemin.
the game continues in a steadfast manner for the next couple of rounds thanks to haechan insisting we play one more round, though it doesnât exactly go in the manner you were hoping for. the group is practically in tears after watching jeno and jaemin share an awkward kiss, chaewon arguing that they canât claim âno homoâ because it was the most homo thing sheâd seen in a while, and that was saying a lot because she was, in fact, gay.
you have now kissed sieun, jaemin once again and an especially endearing renjun, whoâs cheeks and tips of his ears are painted a bright red after you plant a full peck on his waiting lips. haechan grumbles something about renjun not having kissed anyone besides his mom to explain his reaction, but jeno is quick to cut renjun off before another argument ensues.
âi donât know about you guys, but i think thatâs enough exchanging of saliva for one dayâ, he all but sighs, lying down on the floor dramatically. while you do agree, youâre disheartened, because not once has the bottle landed on you when spun by haechan, or the other way around. it feels like the universe is fucking with you, because really how many times can you spin a bottle between a group of seven people and not have it land on the one person you want to kiss even once.
haechan looks like he wants to say something, but appears to decide against it in the end, stretching and standing up. it is then mutually agreed by everyone that it was time to watch a movie.
âsuper bad?â, jaemin proposes, and even though most people had already watched the movie, no one argues against it and jeno starts setting up the movie on their big screen tv.
settling into the couch, you glance over at haechan and youâd be lying if you said you werenât feeling a tad bit disappointed. this whole spin the bottle thing makes you wonder about all the other times where you could have had an opportunity to make a move on the brown-haired boy.
youâd gone on long drives together, gone partying, even drank with just each other a couple of times. the closest the two of you had ever come to crossing that line was while you where dancing at a party and his arms were looped around your waist from behind, slowly swaying to the beat. youâd danced with him tons of times before that but you recall thinking the air was a little different than normal, more heated, but you also recall mistaking renjun for your professor, so you didnât trust yourself. the moment came and went, and neither of you ever had the balls to address it, and now it had been way too long since to bring it up.
âthis seat taken?â, haechan snaps you out of your bitter thoughts, jerking his head towards the spot on the couch next to you. you clear your throat and shake your head, scooting over slightly so he could sink down next to you. âwhatâs up, y/n, you look a littleâŚnot present. you still high?â
itâs funny because your mind certainly wasnât present, it was in the gutter, but you choose to blame the weed. âyeah, iâm still highâ, you answered truthfully, and so was he, his red, hooded eyes a dead giveaway.
âokay, perfect, i wanted to show you this stupid tiktok i sawâ, heâs pulling his phone out of his pocket and leaning closer to you to show you some video of a cat, or maybe a dog, you werenât paying attention. he laughs at whatever the animal did, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he does so, and you observe him instead of watching. when he doesnât hear you laugh, he peeks over at you but youâre quick to turn your head back to his phone, letting out a very late giggle at the video.
if he did catch you, he doesnât mention it, continuing to scroll and show you more videos. jeno finally gets the movie set up and turns off the lights, taking up the final seat left on the couch. the movie begins, and everyone falls into a comfortable silence bar hyuck, who makes the occasional comment that earns him a snort from you each time.
at some point during the movie, haechan stretches his arms out behind him, placing his arm on the head of the couch directly behind you. glancing at him quickly, you canât tell whether the action was purposeful or not, because if it was, he was doing a very good job of looking nonchalant. you try your best to ignore it, but his hand is resting directly above your shoulder, inches away from touching you- but it never does.
you had never noticed what nice hands haechan had before. long and slender, nails clipped short and clean, his middle, ring and index finger adorned with various silver rings. you note that he wears three rings on his left hand, but none on his right. his right hand sits on top of one of his thighs, two of his fingers drumming against it following some rhythm going on in his head. his fingers are long, and the only thing you can think about is just how nice they would feel insideâ
no, no, no, stop it, since when are you this horny?
you realise stressing out about how horny you are all of a sudden is just going to lead to a bad trip and you donât want that, and you want to clear your head. even though youâre feeling a different kind of thirsty, you figure a distraction for a couple minutes would be helpful, so you excuse yourself to go get some water, jumping up from the couch and walking towards the kitchen. unbeknownst to you, haechanâs watchful eyes follow your figure as you exit the room.
finally away and in the kitchen, you fill up a glass and lean over the sink, closing your eyes to collect yourself. you can finish the movie without driving yourself crazy over haechan, right? tonight is no different than any other hangout and you donât want to weird haechan out with your unnecessary staring and poorly concealed thirsting. you just need to stop thinking about his stupid hands, his stupid thighs, his stupid hair and his stupid kissable lips. âkissable? lock in, y/n, lock inâŚâ
âwho are you talking to?â
you wince but donât turn around, eyes screwed shut tightly. youâve been gone for a couple minutes and you donât know when he left the room, but you put down the glass and turn to face him.
âwhatâs got you so jumpy?â, he questions, leaning against the counter. his arms are folded and his gaze is piercing, face tilted slightly to the left as he observes you. this is the second time heâs startled you in the kitchen today and also happens to be the very reason youâve been so jumpy.
ânothing, i justâŚgod, you need to starting announcing your entry into a room, dudeâŚâ
he furrows his eyebrows but lets out a chuckle anyway, slowly sauntering over to where you stood. eyes never leaving yours, he now stands directly in front of you, caging you in between the sink and his body. the closer proximity and dim lighting isnât helping your case in the slightest, feeling all hot and bothered as if there was a sudden change in temperature. âwhatâs happening? youâre usually never like this, weâve smoked up together so many times. are you having a bad trip?â
you understand why he might think that, what with your jerky movements, dazed staring and just overall disconnected demeanour. while you were wound up a little tighter than usual, you werenât having a bad trip, your mind was just very slightly preoccupied. âno, hyuck, iâm fine, i justâŚneeded some waterâ, itâs a half-lie you tell, choosing to not tell him the full truth for the sake of your own pride.
âyou just seemâŚoffâ, he seems to pick his words carefully, eyes roaming over the expanse of your face. âno, i justâŚâ, you trail off to try and find the words to explain this situation away, but heâs just looking at you so intensely. itâs so silent in the room and the air feels all too still, and you swear youâre trying to speak coherently but haechan switches his weight to his other leg, wetting his lips with his tongue while he awaits an answer and you just freeze. âiâŚâ
ââiâ what? see? youâre doing it againâ, he starts, running a hand through his hair, and the muted light that leaks in through the window illuminates only one half of his face, but you can see him so clearly that even the way his pretty eyelashes brush against his cheek when he blinks doesnât go unnoticed by you. youâre subconsciously chewing on your bottom lip, feeling a little like a deer caught in headlights. âyou have this look in your eye. like you wannaâŚâ
ââŚwhat?â
everything is still and unmoving, until your eyes zero in on haechanâs hand as he raises it, slowly bringing it to graze his fingers over your cheek. his touch leaves a burning hot trail on your skin and using his thumb, he releases your bottom lip from under your teeth, hand lingering cautiously for a fleeting moment before he drops it.
âlike what, haechan?â, you repeat yourself, urging him to just say whatever it is he has to say, getting tired of this back and forth. you could sell a kidney just to see what was going on in his mind right now, because he looks torn between speaking his mind and just staying silent.
âlike you want to kiss me.â
a few beats of complete and utter silence pass, not even hearing the dull sound of the television in the living room anymore over the thudding of your heart in your ears. haechan takes a small and tentative step towards your frozen figure, gripping the counter youâre using to lean against with his right hand, effectively trapping you in your place. now you really are a deer caught in headlights, because heâs spoken what youâve been thinking about for the past couple hours into existence and he is absolutely correct.
âam i wrong, pretty?â
judging by your sharp intake of breath and open-mouthed expression, youâd have to be a fool to think otherwise. he looks as if heâs waiting for you to answer him regardless, giving you a chance to get out of this, but your voice is no longer functioning, and it takes all the strength in your body to shake your head ânoâ.
his eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips, tongue peeking out to lick his lips again. âi suggested playing spin the bottle because i wanted to kiss youâ, his voice is strained as he admits this, quiet and careful like heâs holding back while his eyes are trained on yours like heâs daring you to break eye contact. you donât. âbut then everyone else was kissing you but me.â
normally you would giggle at his little frown, but all you can muster up is a whisper of his name, finally breaking his all-consuming eye contact in favour of looking at his lips again. you donât know who moves first, but the next thing you know is your lips are pressed together in a fierce kiss, your hands tangled in his soft, brown locks while he grip your waist and pull you into him.
he kisses you like a man starved and you do the same with equal fervour, not even being able to process that your little daydream is coming true. his hand comes up to caress your cheek, soon moving down your neck after stroking your face softly, using it to tilt your head for you. the position of his hand is very purposeful because his thumb presses into your throat ever so slightly, but his grip is still tight enough that you couldnât break the kiss (not that you wanted to, anyway). the other hand snakes around your waist and pulls you impossibly closer, pressing his hips into yours.
youâre positively drunk off the feeling of haechanâs lips molding over yours and you think you might just ascend when he tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. body on fire, you mewl against his lips, swirling your own tongue around his while he slowly but surely bucks his hips into yours.
no wards are spoken while your hands thread through his hair, pulling on it and letting out a sound of surprise into his mouth when his hand trails down to your ass and grips it harshly. he finally releases you from the searing kiss, but he doesnât let you catch your breath, instead spinning you around in his hold so that his front presses tightly into your back, hands slipping around your waist from behind. this feels like a dĂŠjĂ vu kind of moment because you are reminded of the time when you both were dancing in this exact position, except this time you were getting exactly what you wanted.
âyou know how bad i wanted this?â, his voice echoes your thoughts and breaks the silence, hands running up and down your front in a teasing manner. lifting your shirt up slightly, he trails his fingers over the exposed skin of your torso and the action makes you squirm in his hold a little, and much to your surprise, he groans lewdly against your ear. âfuck, iâve been thinking of this for so long. kissing you, having my hands all over youâŚâ
you get the sense heâs talking more to himself than you, but you revel in it nonetheless. his hand grips your jaw and squishes your cheeks together so your lips form a pout, forcing it to the side where he plants one, two, three kisses to your puckered mouth. his other hand slips further up your shirt where he brazenly cups your boob through your bra, fondling one of them while his tongue peeks out to flick at your bottom lip.
youâre putty in his arms, all gasps and squirms and whispered âhaechanâs. âwhat, baby?â, he mumbles into your cheek, the hand gripping your jaw letting go in order to slink down to your hip where it lingers for a moment. âwhat do you want?â
your lack of answer doesnât bode well with him, earning you a tight squeeze to your hip as a kind of warning. âneed you to touch meâ, you whisper out defeatedly, and you feel haechan laugh mockingly against your face.
âyeah? need me to touch you?â, he mimics your voice while tutting, letting his hand slip further down to where you needed him the most, but not letting you have it just yet. âthink you can be a good girl and keep quiet for me? we donât need everyone outside hearing what a little slut youâre being in here.â
everyone outside. the fact that you were just a room away from all your friends who were sat watching a fun little movie together had completely slipped your mind, but if you were being honest, you couldnât find it in you to give a shit. everything about your current disposition was so dirty. one hand under your shirt, the other about two seconds away from fingering you right in the middle of your friendsâ kitchen, while said friends were sat outside, unaware of the goings-on under their own roof.
though you didnât think actually getting caught in this position would be the most pleasant experience, the idea of it dampened your panties and caused you to whine out loud, tilting your head back against haechanâs shoulder. you receive an immediate hand clamped over your mouth in return, haechan tutting in your ear condescendingly. âlooks like the little slut canât follow a simple request.â
even though he reprimands you, his hands begin fumbling with the button of your jeans anyway, undoing it and pulling the zipper down. one hand comes up to wrap around your front and rests on your shoulder, holding you in place, and the other he sticks down your pants and cups your heat but makes no effort to move, chuckling when you try to move yourself against it. his crotch ruts against the swell of your ass and for you, any friction is better than no friction at the moment. with one hand gipping the arm around your shoulder, you slip the other behind you to palm at his hard cock over his pants, making him let out a sound of approval.
âplease, hyuckâ, you shake your face free of his hand and turn to look him in the eye, and he grips your throat and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.
he seems to accept your plea, finally moving his hand against you and you breathe a sigh of relief, lost in the feeling of his fingers rubbing circles on your clit over your wet underwear. heâs quick to slip his hand inside your panties, cold fingers pressed directly on to your bare pussy, spreading your wetness all over you. when he ultimately slips a finger into your tight, waiting core, you moan but itâs cut short when he slaps his hand over your mouth again. âkeep. quiet.â
if someone were to walk in, the two of you would be a sight to see. you writhing in his tight hold while his hand is stuffed in your pants, two fingers pistoning in and out of you at a fast pace as his forehead is pressed against the side of your face, releasing short breaths. you look positively fucked out, and youâre both in a state of complete bliss as you grind against each other in a timely rhythm.
âmy pretty girl. if i had known you wanted this too, i wouldâve just grabbed you and kissed you like i wanted, in front of everyone.â
his voice is honey-like and sultry, and his fingers are nothing short of heavenly. they pump in and out of you, and he still manages to use his thumb to toy with your clit in this position, leaving you breathless and on the edge. âcanât believe jaemin and renjun got to kiss you before me.â
youâre so wet that your cunt makes downright sinful noises as he fingers you and youâre hoping that it isnât really as loud as it seems. âyouâre so wet, angel. so this is what had you all jumpy todayâ, he laughs like heâs stating the obvious, and youâd have half the mind to feel shy if his ministrations didnât feel so fucking good right now.
youâre aware that youâre close and so is he because youâre clenching around his fingers, so he quickens his pace both inside you and against your clit. âyou gonna cum for me, baby? right here, in the middle of kitchen, while everyoneâs outside?â, he purrs against your face and you grip the part of his arm that isnât shoved in your pants, digging your nails into his skin in a way thatâs sure to leave a mark. his words make you feel dirty in the best way, not even knowing you could feel this turned on.
he peppers kisses along your jaw and neck, sucking here and there, and through the pale moonlight bleeding into the room from the window, the red blemishes that begin to bloom on your skin are visible to hyuck, and he seems pleased with his artwork. âthatâs it, sweetheart, let go for me.â
your moans are muffled against his palm when you finally come, the orgasm ripping through you so strongly that you go limp in his hands, legs almost buckling at the sensation. with the added boost of the weed you smoked earlier, your orgasm is immense, feeling it pulse through your body until itâs too much, whining and wriggling in haechanâs firm hold. he holds you still and helps you ride out your high, whispering utterances of âthatâs right, babyâ and âmy good girlâ into your ear while you throw your head back and try to regulate your breathing.
in a moment, his hand slips out of your pants, turning you back around so youâre now facing him, grinning down at you from ear to ear as if you both hadnât just defiled jaemin and jenoâs kitchen. âyou feeling okay?â, he mumbles, tucking your hair behind your ear with the hand that wasnât soaked, pressing a number of kisses all over your face as you nod and giggled, trying to evade his attack. he lets you go just to wash his hands, and itâs when he dries his wet hands on the material of his pants that you notice his raging boner, immediately feeling bad.
âwait hyuck, let meââ
as if heâs reading your mind once again, he shakes his head and takes both of your hands into his, wrapping them around his own waist while pulling you into him. âwe can save that for another time, prettyâ, he insists, his expression turning shy when he realises the implications behind his words. âthat is, i-if you want another time, of courseââ
itâs your turn to cut him off this time, but you do so by leaning up and connecting your lips again, bring a hand up to stroke his cheek. âof course i want another time, hyuck. i want this. i want you.â
your assurances do good to bring a smile to his pretty face, taking ahold of the hand on his cheek and pressing his lips to your skin gently, lovingly. âso, so, perfect.â
taking note of the prolonged amount of time the two of you had been gone, you skulk back into the living, but this time, hand in hand.
the scene youâre greeted with is a surprising one, because you find every single one of your friends to be sound asleep, much to your amusement and hyuckâs dismay. âso youâre telling me i couldâve been hearing you moan the whole time and none of these idiots would have even known?â, he is appalled, a hand coming up to rub at his face out of frustration. âi did all that for nothing?â
âi wouldnât say for nothingâ, you reveal, biting your lip and smiling up at the boy shyly. âi might have woken them up.â
âoh yeah, well now youâre going toâ, and with that, heâs dragging you back to the kitchen while you giggle, nearly tripping over your own feet before he all but scoops you up in his arms, muttering to himself about having left something in the kitchen that needed urgent fetching.
1K notes
¡
View notes
salted caramel | lmh ( m )
you hadnât been aware that markâs jealousy followed the rules of baseball â 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 mcâs 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 âplotâ 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⌠iâm so sorry that the pacing might be a little off, especially since I can never tell if itâs actually too fast or not. this is also unedited and unbetaâd but oh well because i never edit my stuff before posting and just re-edit when I re-read! regardless, i hope itâs something that you can enjoy, and i couldnât 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 â or, maybe, you just have a tendency to paint him in that kind of light.
You canât really help it; heâs 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 canât do anything but reciprocate, if only to see his eyes grow a little brighter. You wonder if Markâs aware that if this were a Shakespearean scenario, youâd easily fall on your sword for him without question, for as long as he asked, but you donât think thereâs any pressing need to remind him â not with the way you spend most of your free time figuring out ways to be with him. Youâre 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 â 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 youâre head over heels for him, given how at least once a week, heâs 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) â but if he doesnât notice then, you canât hold it against him; Markâs 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 youâre there right as he gets out â 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 Leeâs admirer, which is all well and good, but if you had the breath to spare, youâd correct his terminology for accuracy. Girlfriend. Youâre Mark Leeâs girlfriend.
Itâs a fact you donât mind reminding him of but that you actually have to do quite often, because when you call Mark the appropriate counterpart â boyfriend â his eyes still widen, like heâs hearing it for the first time. Itâs cute, just like everything else about him. You just have to wonder, at times, if he doesnât believe you.
Whatever. It doesnât matter; youâll just keep telling him.
You donât 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 heâd 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 doesnât always mean youâre just with him; you came to learn this after the first week of the new semester, and youâve 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 youâd 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. Heâs supremely outgoing, a trait you canât say you mind, but thereâs 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 theyâve come to know you as that girl Mark didnât teach a single thing in College Algebra to but still somehow got lucky with (something youâve 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 youâre the only one that thinks so, actually) green apron.
Again, you donât mind it; new people arenât an issue to you, and youâre also interested in finding out more about Mark through those closest to him. You get to see the few ways theyâre 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, youâve come to learn, through the conversations youâve had to sit through over the last month, that they have varying opinions on said interests. For instance, you know theyâre all into video games, Japanese manga, and long-winding fantasy movies, but every conversation takes flight the moment thereâs even a spark of dissent from one person â and the source, usually (and quite unfortunately), is Lee Donghyuck himself.
Today is no exception.
âDude, youâre crazy,â Zhong Chenle practically seethes. Whether by sheer coincidence or actual desire, heâs the one who most often finds himself staring Donghyuck down, trying to bend the latterâs 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. âThe ninth was the worst, hands down.â
âArt and rendering were so solid.â Donghyuck raises a finger, and youâre not sure if itâs to start off a list or to shut Chenle up. You donât want to ask, anyway, too busy finding amusement in the shifting expressions of despair, rage, anguish, and murderous intent on the latterâs face to speak up. You presume thatâs why everyone else isnât stopping them â or maybe theyâre just preparing their own defenses and points to raise. âIntuitive combat and flawless combo chains. The fucking open world? Which other installment in the franchise offers that much depth in the gameplay?â
âDepth? Do you even hear yourself right now?â 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. âWhat kind of depth comes from cloned movesets? The character designs are so stupidly traditional too. Andââ
âThereâs a unique kind of beauty in familiarity.â
âThe open world was a disaster,â Chenle plows on. âIt was so empty, and the map was the farthest thing from intuitive. Itâs quite literally the worst thing KOEI has ever done. Thatâs exactly why they went back to the limited map strategy in later installments. Even the spin-offs.â
âI thought the grappling and ambush systems were pretty intuitive. Ingenious, even.â
Itâs a singularly amusing sight â Chenle is one insult to his pride away from imploding, and Donghyuck is just checking the dirt under his nails like heâs 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 âI actually really liked the Age Of Calamity Zelda one they released with all the different campaigns,â but that just goes unnoticed by either party.
âYou once failed an ambush play just because you were stuck behind a wall you couldnât scale. Donât say shit about the ambush and grappling mechanics.â
âUnlike some people sitting around this table, I learn from my mistakes. Thatâs also probably why some people â not naming names â just canât appreciate the artistic beauty that is Dynasty Warriors 9.â
Donghyuck doesnât even look up from his cuticles when Chenle explodes.
âYouâre fucking impossible!â
âCan you guys relax?â 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. âYouâre making a scene over a dead game franchise.â
âItâs not dead; theyâre on hiatus,â 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 heâs fully folded his arms across his chest.
Your eyes wander away from the group over to the counter. Youâre 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 â especially one as heated as the one Chenle is prolonging while jabbing his finger accusingly at Donghyuck, as if heâs trying to pin a crime on the latter instead of just explaining why Donghyuckâs opinion is âborne of ignorance.â When theyâre 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 baristaâs station, where heâs busy piping an extra helping of whipped cream on top of a strawberry frappuccino for a kid thatâs 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 heâs got this habit of rolling up his sleeves so they donât catch any stains. Youâre pretty sure he has a second motive, though; surely, heâs aware of how the view of his arms, muscles tightening under his skin whenever he even lightly grips something, drives you crazy. Youâd bet a monthâs allowance heâs 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 thereâs 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 someoneâs 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 donât have the reflexes to turn back to its source before it starts talking.
âGot anything to add to either of our cases, ___________?â
âWhat?â Your palm comes up to rub your ear as Donghyuck pulls away, laughing lightly. Youâre sucked back into the foreground of the conversation, but youâre just as lost now as you had been before you started tuning them out in favor of your lust. âUh â no. Sorry. To be honest, I know nothing about⌠sorry, what were you guys talking about again?â
âSee, thatâs how normal people act,â Jeno grumbles, both his eyes flying open this time. âInstead of hosting a presidential debate about Dynasty Warriors.â
âNot that thereâs anything wrong with that.â Youâre quick to add, and Jeno looks mildly amused at your attempt to still mollify the rest of the group. âIâm sure I would have liked it. If, you know, I actually had been introduced to it at any point in my life.â
âAnd if you had, Iâm sure youâd have the taste to assert alongside me that the seventh installment was revolutionary,â Chenle sniffs, but heâs looking more pointedly at Donghyuck, whoâs still ignoring him, save for the fact that heâs now looking at you instead of at his nails (which doesnât feel like such a great upgrade).
âNah, sheâd be on my side. ___________ looks like sheâd appreciate a good, scenic open world and grappling system. Right?â
âUhâŚâ you say smartly.
âMan, shut up.â 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. âGot me so pissed off I need to pee now.â
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 â which you donât â Chenle is long gone before you can get your thoughts together. Itâs only when heâs out of earshot that Donghyuck leans in, almost conspiratorially, to whisper to you again.
âActually, I think the ninth sucks too. But isnât it kind of funny how worked up that fucker gets?â
âTo be honest, Iâve never known anyone with quite your talent in riling people up,â you admit, and even though youâre 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. âToo bad I have no idea which opinion is really right, or Iâd weigh in, too.â
âNot a Dynasty Warriors kind of girl, then?â
âNo one is, Hyuck,â Jeno snorts, shaking his head. âYou two are the only people I know who still played that past the fifth installment.â
âFair. I nurture a love for old franchises.â Donghyuck leans back, looking supremely satisfied at how heâs managed to tick off one of his most important âto-doâ points of the day. âSo whatâs your poison, ___________?â
âWhatâs that mean?â
âYou a Gardenscapes kind of girl? Tekken? Maybe you like some good olâ fashioned LoL?â
âI honestly donât have the hand-eye coordination to play,â you confess. âI 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 wouldâve cried. He had to babysit me like crazy. It was a miracle he didnât throw me out.â
âShe even tries to play with him,â Donghyuck whistles lowly. âDude, howâd Mark get a chick like you?â
âMeaning?â
âYouâre way too good for that dope.â His laugh is light and good-natured. âNever thought a moony-eyed weirdo like him would actually wind up with his dream girl â which heâs called you, more than once, by the way. Fucking disgusting, but⌠I get it. Doesnât make it less crazy or weird to hear, though.â
âSorry to put you through that.â 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 Donghyuckâs just said to you, and you find your eyes trailing back to Mark, whoâs 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. âI guess it wonât help if I say your friend over thereâs my dream guy.â
âIt absolutely will not,â Donghyuck groans, faking a gagging noise that has you laughing. âBut tell you what â if you ever get tired of Mark playing PUBG and ignoring you like the clown he is, Iâll find you someone else more your speed.â
âNo thanks,â you snort, taking the last sip of your drink. âMore than that, Iâd just want to be some kind of helpful to him if I ever play with him again.â
âWe can help you with that too,â Jisung volunteers. âJeno taught me the basics. Iâm sure he can teach you too.â
âYeah, and Iâm guessing youâd be a better student than mister âhow come you didnât tell me I had to focus the crosshairs myselfâ over here,â Jeno chuckles, surreptitiously pointing at Jisung when you cast him a questioning look.
âIâm pretty good at sneak attacks myself.â Donghyuck makes a show of pretending to slice your neck before grinning smugly. âWeâll take care of you. Mark wonât know what hit him next time.â
âWhatâs happening to me next time?â
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.
âWe were just talking about replacing you. Both as a friend and as a boyfriend, for your poor little dream girl here whoâs just too nice to turn you down.â Donghyuck lies like itâs second nature; you wonder if thatâs a Finance major thing or just a him thing.
âAnd youâre offering that to someone who didnât ask for it?â Mark snorts, nudging Chenleâs bag over so he can sit in the empty spot.
âSheâs so caught up in your sticky little web that she canât struggle against you.â 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. âIâll save you, so donât worry. Mark canât keep his grubby hands on you forever. Whenever you need to be saved, Iâll come a-running to free you.â
Thereâs 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. Donghyuckâs as quick to let go as he is to hang on.
âWe were just talking about PUBG,â you correct, and Markâs eyes snap to you. âI was asking for help â you know, so I wonât drag you down the next time I join in?â
âI donât mind whatever you do in-game.â Heâs quick to comfort you, even if you donât actually need it, but it feels warm and cold âIâm just glad you wanna try it with me.â
âNo, but I kind of want to learn too. So it can be fun for both of us. Also so you donât have to keep avenging me after five minutes,â you laugh. Mark cracks a smile then, and you donât realize his expression had been slightly harder until it softens under your gaze.
âThen Iâll teach you next time.â
âNo, I want to surprise you with how cool I get. And then next time, Iâll even beat you.â You turn to Donghyuck, slightly unsure. âUh⌠I can beat him, canât I?â
âIf you play different teams, yeah,â he confirms. âTrust me. Iâll help you kick his ass.â
âOr weâll both kick yours,â Mark chuckles, his grasp now tightening and loosening intermittently. Heâs massaging your shoulder lightly, and you end up sinking deeper into his side. You donât miss the slightly nauseated amusement that passes across Donghyuckâs face nor the way he mouths âsapâ to Mark, who ignores this comment in its entirety.
âYo, hotpot at seven? Renjunâs asking,â Chenle announces as he returns to your table, his phone in one hand and a crumpled paper towel in the other. âJaemin canât make it, though. Study group or whatever shit he always says.â
âIâm down,â Donghyuck immediately replies, and Chenleâs eyes shoot heavenward, like heâs already asking for the divine strength to not sock Donghyuck in the face later.
âCanât,â Jeno yawns, both his arms outstretched as he tries to move the sleep out of his spine. âPre-test tomorrow.â
âDude, itâs a pre-test,â Donghyuck rolls his eyes. âYou donât have to study if theyâre just testing how much you know before studying.â
âGotta study all the same.â
âI gotta pass too,â Jisung looks actually apologetic. âI promised my mom Iâd help her move some stuff to my auntâs place tonight.â
âBoring,â Chenle grumbles before turning to the both of you. âLovebirds?â
âRain check,â Mark shakes his head. âFamily dinner. My brotherâs home for the weekend. How about Monday instead? Most of us canât make it anyway. At least Jaemin doesnât have study group either.â
âIf thatâs even what that weirdoâs doing,â Chenle sighs, already punching in a message to send to Renjun. âFine; Iâll ask about Monday. You guys better actually reply to the goddamn group chat. I canât coordinate in six different private chats ever again.â
âYou can put my name down already,â Mark casts you a sideway glance, and you nod immediately. âTwo names, actually.â
âIâm good on Monday too. When we see each other again, Iâll bring some prospects for you to sift through,â Donghyuck adds to you, and you laugh. âCool 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.â
âIâll have Mark look at them so he can reject them all for me,â you promise. Donghyuck feigns affront before looking at Mark in utter disbelief.
âHow the fuck did you snag a girl like this, man?â
âIâm pretty sure she once told me I⌠what did you say?â Mark glances at you amusedly. âI had some moves, I guess.â
âYou mean stutter and blush in her presence?â Donghyuck canât decide how to look at you without being even the slightest bit offensive; he just settles on incredulity. âAnd that won you over?â
âMost powerful move in the Mark Lee playbook,â you shrug, grinning. âHad me from the first âum,â and heâs had me ever since.â
âYou lucky son of a bitch,â Donghyuck snorts, and neither of you misses the slightly abashed but unmistakable smugness in Markâs 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 arenât quick enough to read the signs, as usual.
But in your defense (again), it hadnât felt all that significant.
âFuck, this is spicy,â Na Jaemin sucks air in through his teeth and lets it out in a sharp whistle thatâs broken by a laugh thatâs not necessarily at anything funny. Maybe heâs 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 Chenleâs part; heâd even texted you just to make sure heâd 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 canât help but wonder if heâs not trying to drown the mala-flavored strips of meat in it completely.
âThatâs why I said you need a bowl of water for dipping, you dimwit,â Donghyuck points his chopsticks at Jaeminâs messy plate in a way you can only describe as nagging, even if thatâs actually impossible. âYouâve got super mala breath now.â
âDonât know about me, but I can smell yours all the way from over here,â 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.
Itâs nice, you think, that Markâs friends like to invite you to their outings now; despite all the jokes theyâve made at his expense, theyâve been consistently open to having you around. Youâre 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.
Theyâre even louder outside Starbucks, youâve come to note; the restaurant is significantly busier than the cafe anyway, filled with people on their company dinners, so Markâs friends all seem to want to rival that boisterous energy. Weirdly, you like it, even when theyâre already half off their seats and one (Chenle) is just about to strangle the other (Donghyuck). The laughter flows freely, and thereâs 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 canât 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 youâd been so drawn to him, but they just donât know that even theyâre victims of Markâs 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 heâs mostly distracted by conversation, thereâs 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 youâd adamantly declined him giving you your own bowl of it in the first place (youâd always thought you were peanut sauce or nothing kind of girl, but one sneaky venture into Markâs sauce proved you wrong). His hand hovers over your head when you drop your chopsticks and bend over to pick them up from where theyâve rolled under the table, making sure youâre bump-free when you resurface.
And his palms always, always settle somewhere on you, no matter what heâs 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 â youâd even almost kneed the table at one point, much to Huang Renjunâs alarm. But the most common place for his arm is around you, fingers lightly bunched into the side of your shirt, like heâs 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 heâll be the target of much light-hearted mockery if you so much as lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder.
But itâs 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 thereâs just enough of an opening for his palm to slip under, and suddenly itâs much warmer on that side, with the light roughness of his hand grazing at your skin. His fingers always stretch apart, like heâs 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 â his nails sometimes even travel featherlight just next to your navel, etching out words you canât really decipher. Like heâs writing a message just for you.
It makes you feel like no matter what heâs doing, a part of his mind is always on you.
âYou guys want to see that new horror movie? The Ghost Within, I think itâs called,â Jisung asks the group from over at the other end of the table, having to raise his voice significantly to make sure it isnât swept away by the raucous laughter from across the restaurant. âI think itâs coming out in a week or two.â
âIâd be okay with it,â Renjun shrugs, although he doesnât look enthused. âKind of looks like a cliche horror with all those cheap jump scares and shit, but Iâm down if you all are.â
A wave of assent passes over the group in general, but you notice Mark doesnât immediately respond. You take this opportunity to lean in and confess your stance.
âIf 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,â you warn. âRemember me as I am, not as I will be, Mark Lee.â
He snorts, coughing lightly as a mixture of ginger and fishcake sticks in his throat. âYeah â weâll pass, I think.â
âScaredy-cat,â Donghyuck teases, and youâre surprised that Mark doesnât come to his own defense. Thereâs something romantic in him not wanting to be the one to sell you out, but you suppose thereâs also a kind of chivalry in being the one to take the bullet.
âActually, Iâm the one who canât handle it well,â you smile in apology. âSorry. I donât 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.â
âIn short, you donât want Mark to see you scream and cry,â Chenle deduces. You canât even find fault in him figuring it out so quickly.
âBingo.â
âWell, we can solve the problem,â Donghyuck claps his hands, getting everyoneâs attention for no good reason. â__________, you sit beside me, and Mark can sit on the far end of the row. With how dark it is, he wonât see anything, and I get to sit next to a cute girl in a movie theater. Win-win.â
âThanks for the offer,â you laugh, shaking your head. âBut itâs not a win-win if I accidentally grab your hand out of instinct.â
âIt is to me,â Donghyuck winks, and you feel Markâs hand stop brushing over your stomach. His fingers curl in lightly, almost like heâs trying to make a fist but canât quite get to that point out of personal restraint. âOr better yet, you could do what we all think you should do and dump Mark for someone you wonât be ashamed to cry in front of. I, for one, would not even bother to comment on whatever emotions youâre going through in the middle of a movie, so what do you say? Itâs a pretty sweet deal, in my humble opinion. Me versus Mark Lee. The showdown of the century, right here in Hai Di Lao.â
Youâve noticed that the more Donghyuck piles onto his little teasing rampage, the more forcefully Mark tugs you over; his fingers arenât 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 itâs 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.
âShould we ask the hostess to referee the match, then?â You ride along with the joke.
âNo way. Youâre the one calling the shots.â Donghyuck sits up a little straighter, putting on a smug face. âOkay, pick, __________. Me or Mark; whoâs got the better punches?â
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 canât really decipher the sudden slowness, the light tremble in Markâs palm as it travels to your hip, where it settles, heavy, over the curve.
âItâs a complete knock-out,â you finally announce, grinning. âChampionship belt goes to Mark.â
âMan, if I had a girlfriend as straight-shooting about her feelings for me as you are about your feelings for Mark, Iâd propose in a day, max,â Jeno groans, half-exasperated and half-amused all at once.
âMan mustâve saved a nation or something in his past life,â Donghyuck grimaces. âNo way he deserves a girl this hot and crazy about him. Hey â got any tips on stopping natural disasters or something? I could use a sexy, loyal girlfriend in my next life. Or maybe Iâll just poach yours in this one and see what it feels like.â
âI would actually deck you, so donât even try it,â Mark snorts, his arm now winding full around your waist. Youâre flush against his side, and he uses this opportunity to do something he doesnât 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 billâs split eight ways, but Markâs fishing out cash to pay for your share even before you can get your wallet out from the bottom of your bag; itâs 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 â 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 roommateâs 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; youâve 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. Youâre not going to complain anyway; for as much as you like being around Markâs friends, itâs 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; itâs cool enough for you to have an excuse to press yourself into Markâs 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 youâll be able to do this â lean in, flush against him â when the summer heat starts to stick, but rather than really worrying about the logistics, you realize youâre more hung up on the idea of spending this summer with him.
âSorry,â Mark murmurs out of the blue. Your eyebrows shoot up, and he looks down at you sheepishly. âIsnât hanging out with my friends kind of driving you crazy?â
You hum in thought before shaking your head in resolution. âNot really. Not in a bad way, at least. I like how close you guys all are â and how big the group is. Itâs usually just Yeji and Jisu with me, and theyâre definitely not as rowdy. The change of pace is pretty fun.â
âYeji and Jisu,â he echoes. âYour best friends. I havenât met them yet, have I?â
âNot yet. Jisu started a part-time job across town, so we canât get our schedules to align right just yet.â Your hip collides gently with his. âShould I let you, though?â
âOne day⌠I think it would be nice to hang out with a less migraine-inducing crowd for a change.â
âIâll tell them, then. They want to meet you.â You crane your neck up slightly, lowering your voice into a hushed whisper thatâs completely unnecessary. âThey want to know if youâre as cute as you look in your pictures.â
Mark draws back, laughing incredulously. âHow do they know what my pictures look like?â
âI stalked your Instagram and showed them,â you answer simply. He throws you a funny look thatâs equal parts disbelief and amusement. âThey liked that one with the Spider-man costume.â
âPlease donât,â he groans, passing a hand over his face. âI should have taken that down, but I didnât think anyone would care.â
âWhy? I like it.â Your handâs 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.
âI canât ever understand whatâs going through your head,â he chuckles, and you think itâs unfair that he manages to extract your hand from under the fabric while his is still firmly pressed against the side of your stomach. âYou saw that and still wanted to date me?â
âMark Lee, you simply underestimate how much I adore you. Itâs kind of hurting my feelings at this rate.â
Youâre 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 youâre caught in motion.
âI still canât wrap my head around it sometimes.â
âWhat?â
âI just look over at you and feel like itâs not real. Like youâre going to disappear, and Iâm just going to wake up from a dream and see you the next day, just some other stranger who doesnât even know my name.â He licks his lips, and you want to reach out and kiss him already, but you know he isnât done talking. âAnd Iâm going to remember how much I liked you in that dream, but you wonât ever feel that same way.â
âYou know Iâm right here, though, donât you?â Your fingers mimic his, squeezing around his wrist. âYou can feel me. Iâm here with you.â
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 â a habit of avoidance you know heâs trying to correct. âSometimes I have to wonder if theyâre right.â
âIf⌠whoâs right?â
âThem.â He jerks his thumb back in the general direction of the school dorms. âThe guys. You know â when they ask me how I got a girl like you⌠the truth is, I donât even really know. They canât believe it, and itâs so crazy to me that I still sometimes canât myself. So I start wondering ifââ
You donât let him finish this time; itâs rude to interrupt, you know, but you also know that what heâs 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 donât create the same distance, and Markâs hands find their way to your waist, slightly trembling.
âTheyâre wrong,â you murmur, a quiet strength in your voice. âSo stop wondering and just be with me.â
A smile starts tugging on the corners of his mouth, and the next moment, heâs nodding in assent, in wholehearted agreement, and the next kiss you share is one he starts, far more gentle than earlier.
âNext time I catch you entertaining nonsensical thoughts, thereâll be consequences.â
âAre you threatening me?â His laugh is colored with incredulity.
âYes.â Your tone is firm, but your grin gives away too much of the jest. âMaybe Iâll ground you for a week, or something really childish.â
âIâd take it if you were with me.â
âThatâs not how it works,â you snort, gently flicking the tip of his nose. He scrunches it on impact. âYouâd be in solitary. You must reflect on your actions and all that nonsense. Meanwhile, Iâll be out having some good hotpot with everyone else.â
âIf that happens, promise me one thing, then.â He maneuvers your stance until youâre both back in the blanket of darkness, just out of reach of the subway entrance. âDonât sit next to Donghyuck.â
âAnd 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.â
âNo, really.â 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. âI donât want you sitting there and hearing him talk your ear off about how much I donât deserve you or that heâll help you find someone better.â
âYou know heâs just joking â and Iâm just joking, right?â
âJust promise me.â
You pause, wondering if itâs in your best interest to tease him for whatever act heâs pulling, but thereâs a shortness to his breathing that makes the whole situation feel weirdly tense. Heâs really waiting for something â an answer. The right answer, maybe.
âI promise,â you finally say, and you know youâve said the correct thing when Markâs lips press a soft kiss to your collarbone, like heâs sealing in your vow.
On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.
The strangest thing is that it starts at a time when youâre 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 â maybe even before that. Somewhere in the time youâd spent in there, heâd thought up yet another way to push Markâs buttons. You just didnât really know the exact minute heâd first seen you with Jung Jaehyun.
You donât know how Jaehyun does it; he skips half his classes and somehow doesnât even get in trouble, let alone fail. Youâd 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 donât expect him to strong-arm you into being something of a literal proxy for him; the first week of the semester, youâd 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, youâd already come to realize that it doesnât matter because he had only attended one lecture â the first one â thus far and your professor was as clueless about Jaehyunâs 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, thatâs probably how he does it.
You sacrifice your free time for him today, caged up in a library for pretty much the afternoon. You canât 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 youâd much rather do things that are important to you â like pretending to flirt with Mark for the first time when you place your order and watching him act like itâs the first time youâre saying something so sweet to him, except heâs definitely not pretending. Instead of watching Markâs face color that cute shade of pink and that sweet little smile pull at his mouth until heâs 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.
âYou should really be more legible with your strokes.â He has the audacity to chastise you as if heâs the one doing you a favor by giving you constructive criticism.
âYou should really come to class more often,â you bite back, although thereâs 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 thereâs a chance youâll still be able to catch Mark before his shift ends.
âWould if I could.â
âYou actually fucking can,â you say tiredly, and even the way he turns the page is so impossibly slow. âCanât you just take a picture?â
âNah; writing it down carefully really helps my retention of this kind of stuff.â
âSo take a picture and then write it down carefully.â
âWith your ridiculous handwriting? Iâd probably fail.â
âSo come to class and write it yourself!â
Your hiss increases in pitch, and it calls the attention of the librarian over to you. She swoops in, clicking her tongue, but sheâs not even looking at you. Her eyes are zoned in on Jaehyun, who meets her gaze with so much innocence itâs hard to imagine youâd wanted to smack him two minutes ago.
âJung Jaehyun,â the librarian snaps in an undertone. The slow, punctuated way she says his name suggests she knows him fairly well â and not in a great way. âI see youâre back in here after your probationary period.â
âSorry for the trouble, Mrs. Park.â He grins up at her, looking anything but apologetic. âI promise I wonât get in your way again today.â
âAnd this oneââ She points to you, and you point to yourself in shock at being pointed to, and Jaehyunâs pointing at you and mouthing âthis oneâ with excessive mirth in his eyes. âIsnât another one of those girls you plan on defiling my sacred space with?â
Jaehyun says âwe didnât defile anythingâ at the same time you say Iâm going to throw up, and the librarian just adds to the noise by shushing you on top of that jumble of words.
âIâll be keeping a close eye on you two,â Mrs. Park warns before stalking away, tutting at a library assistant for wrongly shelving a volume of Encyclopedia Brittanica.
âPlease, Jaehyun,â you groan, crossing your arms over the table and flattening your forehead against them. âJust hurry up. Release me.â
He ignores you, still leaning closer to your notebook to decipher your handwriting. âI would like to set the record straight and make it known I didnât fuck anyone in the library.â
âWhatâd you get probation for, then?â
âJust making out.â You notice he has the energy to grin wickedly even without meeting your eye, even while heâs still scrawling on his own notebook, and you groan something incoherent and irate once again. âWhat are you in such a big hurry for, anyway?â
âHas it ever occurred to you,â you grumble, raising your head. âThat some people might want to do better things than sit here and watch you write stuff for ages?â
âNo,â 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 youâd find yourself waking up in Markâs arms instead, but you have no such luck. âBy better things, do you mean fucking Mark Lee in someone elseâs bedroom? Thatâs real defilement, by the way.â
âHowâd you hear about that?â You squeeze your eyes shut and growl under your breath. âFucking Youngho.â
âYou doing that too?â
âShut â please, would you hurry?â
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 witchâs cackle. âAlmost done, man. Relax a bit. So did you guys get together â like, together together?â
You initially contemplate not telling him, but Jaehyunâs nosiness is probably going to reveal the truth to him sooner or later anyway. âYeah. Whatâs it to you, though?â
âNothing. Youâre lucky.â
For the first time today, you feel like Jaehyun has finally said something right. âYeah â yeah, I am.â
âI bet his friends donât seem to think so.â
âIs this something you know because itâs a guy thing or because youâre so nosy that you just canât help but listen in on every other juicy conversation around you?â
âA bit of both,â he chuckles. âMostly just because I know Lee Donghyuck was giving him a hard time about it last semester.â
âI noticed that too â a bit, anyway. But itâs just banter, I think.â
âProbably. Imagine being his friend and getting a girlfriend; itâs like⌠the perfect ammunition for teasing. But Iâm pretty sure half of the things that come out of his mouth are jokes meant to annoy.â
âWhat about yours?â
âI get it,â he sighs, shutting your notebook resolutely. It makes a thud that alerts the librarian two tables away, and she glares at you like youâre climbing onto Jaehyunâs lap in the middle of the References on the Korean War aisle. âIâll set you free. Thanks, by the way, for letting me copy from you. Same time next week?â
âOr 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 youâre taking advantage of my goodwill?â
âSounds like too much effort on my end,â he yawns, waving you off as you stuff your notebook into your bag. âLater, ___________. Say hi to Mark for me. The normal way â not the girlfriend way, please.â
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. Youâre so intent on fishing your phone out of your bag that you almost ram the door into the person standing behind it.
âOh, fuckâ Jesus, Iâm sorry, I waâ wait, Donghyuck?â
âGreat to see you too, ___________.â He rubs his jaw where the edge of the door grazed it. âYou in a rush?â
âI was just about to go see if Mark was still at Starbucks.â
âHis shiftâs probably almost over. Iâm headed back to the dorm if you wanna tag along.â When you nod, he starts leading the way, breaking the silence again soon after. âWere you in a study group, or something?â
âNo,â you jerk your thumb backwards towards the minuscule form of Jaehyun, whoâs now busy wasting time and space playing something on his phone where youâd left him. Donghyuckâs eyebrows shoot up. âHeâs my classmate who never comes to class. I was just lending him my notes.â
âOh, Jaehyun, yeah.â Donghyuck snaps his fingers. âWe were classmates last semester. He never went to class either, but I donât know who he mooched off of to pass. You guys close?â
âNot really. I just fell into the trap of being too nice to him.â
âItâs funny,â he hums, stuffing his hands into his pockets. âJaehyun seems more your speed. On paper, at least.â
You canât help but look taken aback, and Donghyuck laughs at your expression. âWhat do you mean, my speed?â
âNot sure.â He pauses, trying to find the right words to explain himself. âSomeone whoâd fit more into your social circles. Someone who probably likes Formula One and considers menâs health magazines to be classic literature.â
âThatâs your impression of my social circle?â
âYou 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.â He scratches the back of his neck. âLike⌠you asked him out. Not even the other way around. Thatâs ridiculous.â
âWhy?â You know he doesnât 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. âA girl canât ask a guy out?â
(You try not to think too hard about the fact that up until youâd cornered him in Younghoâs room, you had been praying to whatever god could hear you to convince Mark Lee to do the romanticist thing and ask you out.)
âNah, dude. Like⌠a girl like you asked a guy like him out.â
âI didnât ask him out because he was a guy like that,â you say pointedly. âI asked him out because he was a guy I liked. I wouldnât have asked anyone else out if it werenât him.â
Donghyuck falls quiet for a while, and only the crunching of the leaves underfoot accompanies your walk. âYou really like him that much, huh?â
âIâm crazy about him.â His nose scrunches up like heâs been hit with a horrible smell, and you laugh. âCan you stop giving him a hard time? Or tone it down? I know you probably donât like itââ
Donghyuckâs chuckle is light and easy. âIâm not teasing him because I hate it; letâs be clear on that. I actually really like that you guys are together. Iâve never seen him this happy with anything or anyone.â
âThen why are youââ
âBecause heâs Mark.â A devilish grin creeps up his features as he holds the door to the dorm lobby open for you. âAnd teasing him is my favorite thing to do.â
You shake your head; you canât help your amusement, but youâre not sure you fully understand this kind of friendship. You suppose if Mark is okay with it in its totality, then there isnât 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 doesnât 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. Thereâs barely any lag between when he digests what you say and when he responds. You suppose thereâs a measure of wit in that, but itâs also a little bemusing to see someone speak without at least running it through the conscience checker every once in a while. You decide youâve never met anyone quite like Lee Donghyuck before.
Heâs in the middle of asking you what the Anthropology professor is like because heâs 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.
âMark!â 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.
âHey, you.â His voice is warm and fond in its greeting, and you beam up at him. âDid you have a busy afternoon?â
âUnfortunately. Did you just get back from your shift?â
âI passed by the co-op to check out the new university letter jackets. Designâs pretty dope.â He nods towards the elevator. âYou wanna head up for a little bit?â You almost get to respond before your companion cuts in instead.
âHey. Canât you see weâre having a riveting conversation over here?â Donghyuck sniffs, making a show of hitting Markâs shin lightly with the heel of his shoe. âHave some respect.â
âIs the conversation so riveting that I canât take my girl for the evening at all?â
You mouth out a no, but Donghyuckâs flair for dramatics has him humphing and shoving Markâs hand away from your hair. âYeah, man. At least let us finish up.â
âWhatâs this even about?â
âHow Jung Jaehyun asked her out in the library today,â Donghyuck replies easily. You start, shaking your head immediately, but Markâs jaw slackens a little upon hearing this. Donghyuck continues loudly over your protests, and you canât keep your voice straight because youâre adamant and yet, somehow, still laughing incredulously in your shock. âOh, dude, let me tell you. He had his arm around her like this â and he was giving her the bedroom eyes⌠I wouldnât have blamed her if she folded, honestly.â
âMark, no,â your stupid gasp comes out as half a giggle as a result of Donghyuck trying to reenact his imaginary scenario. Heâs slung his arm across your shoulders and pulled himself in, doing his best expression of a pleading dogâs gaze, which is both perplexing and hilarious. âHeâs just kiddingââ
âThen he got all close like thisââ 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 Markâs face turn a violent shade of red you canât remember having seen from him before. âSpoke all low â you remember he had that sexy, husky voice, right? â
âHeâs just messing with you,â you wheeze out, trying to extract yourself from Donghyuckâs hold, but he only tightens his arm around your neck, almost to the point where you canât inhale properly.
âAnd he said âyouâre the hottest chick Iâve ever seenââ then you know what he did, Markie?â
Mark doesnât respond; youâre not even sure if he can, considering his Adamâs apple is bobbing dangerously like heâs one misstep away from exploding. You laugh again, stupidly, because you donât know what else to do; you know Donghyuckâs teasing him, and you know Mark usually takes it in stride, but youâve also never seen the latter look so focused on anything that didnât involve a math problem or eating you out. âNo, really, nothing hapââ
You donât even have the space to finish your sentence. Donghyuckâs 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.
âOh, Jesus,â Donghyuck rasps out between snorts. âYour face is priceless, man.â
âNot funny,â Mark grumbles, and thereâs a hoarseness to his voice that makes you feel like itâs barely controlled.
âAlso not true. I just bumped into her on the way from the library. We were talking about one of her classes or whatever.â Donghyuck dramatically wipes the tears from his eyes, and you sigh, nudging him. âSorry, sorry. I couldnât resist. Man, donât even worry. Sheâs downright crazy about you. Even if Jung Jaehyun had asked her outââ
âAnyway.â Mark reaches down, lacing your fingers together, pulling you up and closer to his side like heâs worried youâll catch Donghyuckâs crazy. âIf thatâs all of itâŚâ
âYeah, yeah. You two lovebirds go moon over each other already. I just love seeing your face like that.â
Mark snorts, yanking on Donghyuckâs earlobe punitively, and the latter cries out sharply (and a little exaggeratedly) at the pain. Mark doesnât even seem to care; he leads you to the elevator and punches in his floor. You barely have time to call out a belated âbyeâ to Donghyuck, who acknowledges it with a raise of his palm, before the doors slide shut.
Itâs a slow elevator, given that itâs an old building, and the first couple of floors pass without much noise between the two of you. Youâre not unaware of how tight Markâs grip is on your hand, but you donât comment nor take it against him. By the fourth floor, youâre raising his hand up to your lips and pressing a kiss against his knuckles.
âNothing happened.â You confirm his unasked question, and you see a modicum of tension leave his shoulders. âHe was just messing with you because he thinks itâs funny.â
âYeah, I know.â Even if he says it like that, thereâs still lingering doubt in his voice. âWere you with Jung Jaehyun today, though? Is that why you didnât show up?â
You nod. âHe was copying my notes for Anthropology. Guy barely shows up to lectures, so he borrows my stuff. I canât believe he hasnât been suspended yet. Or punched in the face by the people he leeches off of.â
âNo kidding.â
You step out on the sixth floor with him. Even if you already know where Markâs 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; youâve seen him all of two times, and it doesnât look like heâs here either right now. You pause anyway, listening to any signs of life just to be sure, but when you both confirm that thereâs 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 isnât anything unusual since youâve done this a million times, and youâve come to learn that small talk isnât necessary when youâre just washing your hands or opening the refrigerator aimlessly even if you know you both plan on ordering in. But thereâs a weird aura around Mark that youâre not sure how to place; he doesnât seem like heâs mad, but there definitely seems to be something off â a problem, at least, that youâre not sure you know how to ask about.
So you just try to diffuse whatever it is by completely ignoring it.
âPizza or Chinese?â 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 youâve just woken him up from a dream. âYou okay?â
âYeah.â His voice is hoarse the first time he says it, so he clears his throat and tries again. âYeah, sorry.â
âWhatâs on your mind?â
âWe just had pizza, so Iâm thinking Chinese is the better option. Cream shrimp? Fried rice? Not the salted fish one, though, maybe.â
You hum in assent, but when he straightens up from behind the television, you extend your arm to him, attempting to clarify yourself. âI mean, what are you thinking so hard about?â
âNothing.â His answerâs a little too quick. A moment of awkward silence passes where you telepathically tell him you know heâs 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. âHe didnât ask you out, right?â
You know he knows the truth, so you decide to bat your own question back at him in an attempt at rhetoric. âWhat would it matter if he did? The answer would have been the same, real or imagined.â
Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, inhaling slowly. Thereâs a red flush on his neck thatâs only started fading, it seems. You reach out and skim your finger along the vein that runs down the side of his throat. âI know. I donât like it all the same. I hate⌠even thinking about it, actually.â
âReally â nothing happened. If you donât count the fact that I almost strangled him for keeping me there â which Iâm sure youâd agree doesnât count as anything in favor of him.â
âI heard Jung Jaehyunâs kind of a playboy.â
âWhat does that have to do with me?â
âNothing. I donât know.â His head lolls to the side, and his eyes hold a sadness that pulls at your heart. âIt means he really could have made a pass at you. Or you could have â I donât know. In the end⌠I just worry.â
âDonât you trust me?â Your lower lip juts out, and his eyes widen slightly, his head shaking before his mouth can even work out a proper response.
âNo â I mean, yes, absolutely. Itâs â I mean, itâs justââ He inhales again to gather his wits, two fingers still rubbing his forehead. âI trust you, without a doubt. I donât trust other people â not around you. Not Jaehyun, or Youngho, orââ
âOr Donghyuck?â You smile a little apologetically at his embarrassment, clear on his face when his eyes stray from yours. âMark, you know heâs only messing with you, right? I thought it was a funny thing for you guys.â
âItâs not funny if itâs about you,â he mumbles, more to himself than to you. He looks up at you again, chewing on his bottom lip. âI know. Iâm trying to control it. Sometimes⌠I donât know why it gets under my skin. I guess itâs because it could happen â you⌠finding someone else. I kind of hate the thought of that.â
âAnd if I said I hate it even more than you?â
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 heâs 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 youâve 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 Markâs lips, and you hate that itâs 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 youâre 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 â short and firm.
âStop doing that.â
His eyebrows fly upward in questioning, his other hand freezing in its trail up your thighs. Even his breath seems to catch, and whatâs left of it comes out as a raspy whisper. âStop being jealous? Iâm⌠Iâm trying.â
You shake your head. âStop being sexy when youâre jealous.â
The âwhatâ 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, thereâs a slow hunger to it; your teeth find his lower lip even before heâs able to get into the rhythm of kissing you back. You just want him to know â everything about him drives you wild, even when he doesnât know it.
Youâll never grow sick of the taste of him, youâre sure; today, he tastes even more enticing, the hint of something rich mixing in with the stronger flavor of coffee on his tongue. Itâs familiar and comforting, and itâs only when you break away, both your faces flushed from a prolonged lack of air, that you puzzle out what the taste is â 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 whoeverâs listening for the gift of Mark Lee.
âMark,â your murmur, your voice much softer, intent on coaxing him into releasing his worries. âYou know, right?â
His âhmâ 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 thereâs a whirlpool of emotion in them: curiosity, desire, and, interestingly, a quiet, almost suppressed kind of anger.
âIf it isnât you,â you whisper. âThen thereâs nobody else.â
You see his jaw tighten, feel his grip against you do the same, and his brow furrows, like heâs trying â much too hard, and for no good reason â to stop himself from tipping over. You donât like that either; if heâs there, you think, you should take him over the edge.
âBut if you want them to know so badly, thenâŚâ You tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck, bringing the expanse just a little closer to his mouth. âWhy donât you go ahead and put your claim on me?â
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. Thereâs 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 heâs handling you, but you feel it anyway â all of his tensionâs concentrated in his grip, the way he keeps you close, hips pinned against him as if heâs worried anything less will cause you to disappear.
âEvery time you worry, remember you can do this.â You pause, your breath catching in a lilt as his teeth dig in a little more fiercely. âYouâre the only one that can.â
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. âI know. Itâs just not fair.â
You hum in questioning, but he doesnât answer immediately; his mouth busies itself just under the mark heâd surely left, already starting up the same routine. Youâd 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. Itâs almost a mistake, seeing him like that â lips slightly swollen and definitely slick with his own saliva, parted just a little to reveal teeth heâd been desperate to nip your flesh with again. It crosses your mind that Mark has a mouth made for kissing â no, that isnât accurate.
A mouth made for you to kiss.
âWhatâs not fair?â 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.
âHow badly I keep wanting you,â he breathes out, his eyes slowly opening. âAnd how it makes me think everyone wants you just as much.â
His hands leave the curve of your ass, traveling up your shirt, resting against your sides. He holds you like heâs careful in trying not to break you, his fingers spread wide to make sure his thumbs almost meet against your stomach, but thereâs a smoldering headiness in his gaze that tells you heâs thinking a little too hard about wanting to break you.
âI touch you like this, and I think that everyone would kill to do the same.â His fingers squeeze against your flesh, inching upwards until they rest just under your breasts; his thumbs stroke the curved underline of your bra. âI think about kissing you and it feels like everyoneâs thinking it at the exact same time. I look at someone next to you, even if you donât 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 Iââ
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 doesnât want to continue â doesnât want to let you hear it, but it feels so important that you canât let it go. âTell me.â
âWhen I think about fucking you,â he breathes out, voice barely audible. âWhenever 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 itâs driving me crazy because⌠because they canât.â
Itâs there again, flashing in his eyes â a determination that reads almost like fury.
âThey canât,â he repeats, his voice firmer. âI wonât ever let them. Never.â
You donât 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 â 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 itâs harder, sharper this time, his quiet anger finally dictating his strength. You grapple for words, but they come out in weak gasps.
âIt doesnât â doesnât matter,â you manage to whimper out. âHow many people think that way, how much they want me that way. I only ever want you.â
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.
âGod, please,â he murmurs, the soft peck of a kiss landing against your collarbone. âPlease, tell me.â
âMark, Iâm yours.â Thereâs 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 youâre reinforcing as fact, something that canât ever change. âIâm always going to be yours â no one elseâs. Iâll never let anyone have anything thatâs yours. Ask anything, take everything you want. Iâll never say no to you. Only you â always you.â
You know somethingâs different in a number of ways; his arms circle around you, but instead of keeping you firm and stable in his lap, theyâre 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 â feel â something there â 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 heâs carrying you to his room, kicking the door open and letting the rebound of the impact against his wall slam it shut behind him.
Youâve been in Markâs room before, so thereâs absolutely no need for you to take in the scenery when he sets you down on his bed. It doesnât matter anyway, even if this were your first time; Markâs crawling over you, his face flush and eyes sharp with hunger, and he looks so enticing that you wouldnât 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 donât really know why heâs already panting, but it just makes you want him all the more.
âNever,â he groans out, leaning down to nose against the patch of skin his mouth had worked on. âIâm never going to let anyone take you, ever. Youâre all mine.â
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 heâd left, make it a deeper red, a slightly bruised purple. Youâre 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 itâs all he seems to need for now.
Eager fingers ease between your thighs, two at once, pressing against your folds. Youâre 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 donât move right away, and you have to raise your hips again just to get some sort of friction. Even then, Mark doesnât take the hint â or, perhaps, the bait â 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 â the blooming dark patch youâre sure heâs left where your skin tingles the most.
âIf I said I wanted to mark you all over, would you let me?â
âWhat makes you think I wouldnât ask for it?â
He chuckles, tightening the pressure of his fingers against your clit; you say something that sounds halfway between âMarkâ and a sob.
âI want to, so badly.â He admits, gaze still fixed on your neck. âIâd want to see you walk out of here, walk into class covered in them. Iâd want people to ask you how you got them, and who gave them to you. And Iâd want you to say it proudly â that it was me who did it. That I fucked you all night and made you mine over and over again.â
âWhy donât you?â His eyes snap up to you, a small smile forming on his lips. âI 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 doesnât believe you, too â how I let you take me every single time. Show me off and tell them to look at how you made me yours.â
Another laugh escapes him, but thereâs 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.
âShow you off? If I mark you in other places, do I have to show them every part?â
âDo you not want to?â
âI want to, and I donât.â He pauses, slightly amused, and you know heâs remembering the first time you fucked. âI donât them to see your body, but I want them to see what I did to it. I donât want them to look at whatâs mine, but I just want them to know it is.â
âThen you can fuck me in front of everyone and make them watch you ruin me completely.â
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; youâre 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.
âCanât.â He decides finally. âYouâre too pretty for that.â
You hum thoughtfully, and he raises his eyebrows. He doesnât move, even when you sit up, shifting yourself so you can tuck your calves under your thighs â 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.
âWhat about something like this?â You ask, inching closer to the edge of the bed. Youâve 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. âWould you let them watch me do this for you?â
âLet me think about it,â he chuckles softly, and you nod, letting your fingers work to make your point. You donât 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.
âThink faster,â you urge, and he shakes his head, slightly bemused. âAre you telling me you wouldnât even want them to watch me jerk you off?â
âAt least give me a full minute.â
You laugh lightly, whispering a âfineâ 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 doesnât need the lubrication, realistically; his precumâs 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 youâre always up for; thereâs 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 canât 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 â his eyes are half-lidded, and he doesnât 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 youâre 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; youâre grinding at nothing at first, so your knees give way just enough for you to press yourself against his sheets. Itâs slightly uncomfortable, a strain in your thighs that youâre not really used to, but you donât care; Markâs 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 roomâs filled with nothing but slick sounds and soft groans; Markâs hand has found its way into your hair, tangled into a makeshift ponytail, and while he isnât 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 canât; he wants to feel like heâs fucking into your mouth, into your hand, the way he does when he takes your pussy.
Itâs relatively quiet for that time, nothing but muffled moans from you that mix in with his noises, but you only realize youâd been waiting for an answer to something when he speaks up again.
âItâs⌠still a no for me.â
Your movements slow, your gaze lifting to communicate your mild confusion to him. You donât want to ask; you just donât want to lose the taste of him on your tongue just yet. He looks down at you, smiling with overflowing tenderness, almost like heâs apologetic.
âEven just this â youâre too pretty when you do it.â His hand reaches down, thumb stroking over your cheek. âI canât let anyone see what you look like when youâre like this. Theyâll keep thinking about you doing it for them. And youâd only do it for me â right?â
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.
âGod, I wish you could see yourself; youâd know what I mean,â he continues to murmur, his voice just a little louder over the eager, wet noises youâre making. âHow pretty you look with your mouth wrapped around me. How perfect you are when youâre kneeling like this for me â how happy you look when youâre sucking me off. I canât share that with anyone. Fuck â not ever.â
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 âshitâ 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 youâre 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.
âSo pretty,â 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. âPretty as hell, fucking perfect â and youâre all mine.â
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 todayâs taste of him against your tongue, on the ridges of your teeth, until you feel like youâve 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; itâs 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 heâs worried itâll fade in a few minutesâ time if he doesnât give it attention.
âShow me.â Hands slide down to your hips, squeezing them lightly, like a prompt for your response. âShow me how pretty you are for me.â
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 heâs about to slip his finger in, the tip brushing against your entrance, and you tense in anticipation, but it doesnât 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. âPretty enough for you to fuck?â
âDo you have to ask if you already know?â
âI want to hear it anyway.â
His finger slips into your hole, finally, and you keen softly as he breaches the first ring of tightness. He doesnât 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.
âYour pussyâs too pretty not to fuck,â he manages out, and his throat sounds as tight as you feel. âSeeing it like this⌠makes me think thereâs no way anyone can resist. Itâs exactly why I canât let anyone see you like this.â
You hum as his finger presses in deeper, and you know itâs nothing in comparison to the real thing, but you like feeling that mild stretch, the depth it reaches all the same. âHow should we let them know, then? That Iâm all yours.â
His finger stills, and you hum softly, swaying your hips to shake him out of whatever trance heâs in. Heâs grown quiet, but thereâs a thoughtfulness in this pause, like heâs seriously considering your question. You laugh lightly, ready to tell him youâre just egging him on until he fucks you, but he slips his finger out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing again. You canât help the confused noise that comes out of you, but you at least know he isnât completely backing away, his other hand still firmly on your ass.
âMark, whatââ
You get your answer in the thud that interrupts your question â heâs 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 â excitement in your eyes, your lips glossy from your blowjob.
Markâs 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 doesnât ask, but you can tell heâs wondering if heâs gone too farâ if you think heâs crazy. He lets his fingers stay anchored in you, unmoving, waiting for you to say something, but from where he is, he just canât know the smile that passes your face.
Finally, he tries to speak up. âWe donât have toâ I just meantââ
âWhatâs your passcode?â
He breathes out, the exhale quivering as much as you probably are. âYour birthday.â
Your smile only widens when you tap the screen to life and see a picture of you â you donât even remember when heâd taken it, but itâs 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. Itâs 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.
âWhatâs funny?â
âJust thinking about how you should replace this wallpaper.â
âTo what?â He sounds bemused.
âThe view of me you have now.â
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 âfuckâ under his breath, and his hand digs harder into the flesh of your ass.
You open Markâs contacts, scrolling down aimlessly. Most of the names, you donât recognize, but you see a few familiar ones crop up here and there. He doesnât ask, only starts pumping his fingers into you in quiet anticipation, wondering how far youâre willing to take it, how much youâve bought into this crazy idea.
âMark,â you call out, and he hums in response. âYou trust me, donât you?â
âWith my life.â
âSo if I called Donghyuck right nowââ 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 youâre slightly surprised but not at all displeased to see something crazed lingering in his gaze. âHow much of a show would you want to put on for him?â
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 youâve 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.
âJust⌠enough for him to know youâve always been mine.â
Your thumbs are shaking when you scroll through his contacts again, up and down until you find the right name â Lee Donghyuck â 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 Markâs 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. âYo, Mark.â
His voice is casual, lacking in any sort of expectation; you can hear explosions and gunshots in the background, and youâre willing to bet heâs in the middle of an action movie. Youâre proven right when you hear random English babbling soon after.
âHi, Hyuck.â
â___________?â He sounds genuinely confused that itâs you that greets him. âWhereâs Mark? You okay?â
âHeâs right here with me; donât worry.â Your voice is a soft croon, and he has to lower the volume of the television to be able to hear you better. âWeâre totally fine. What are you up to?â
âWatching Resident Evil. Uh, is there a reason you called?â
You want to draw out the lie of something casual for as long as you can, but Mark doesnât 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, youâre listening to a female voice shout something, and the next, Donghyuckâs side of the call is silent except for his breathing. When you donât bother explaining what had just happened, he takes matters into his own hands.
âHello?â
He sounds equal parts affronted and amused, like the shock of it has tickled him. You canât help it; you laugh too, but itâs quickly cut off by another whine when Mark pulls his fingers out. Donghyuck makes an incredulous noise.
âNow, what the fuck is all this about, you freaks?â
âYou kept wondering why I ended up asking Mark out,â you evade his question with another one. âShould I tell you why, if youâre that curious?â
âNo way. Have fun, weirdos,â 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 youâre distracted when his phone screen lights up again, and Donghyuckâs name flashes across it.
You exchange amused glances before you pick up the call, and you donât even get a âhelloâ out when his voice rings out, sharp and clear.
âBut pretending I am,â he says, as though he hadnât hung up the call a few seconds ago. âExactly what kind of answer would I get?â
âThe kind thatâll hopefully shut you up for good,â Mark pipes in instead of you.
âWhatâs that even going to sound like?â Already, Donghyuckâs activated whatever toggle in him that gets him to push Markâs buttons. This time, though, you canât 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. âI bet you canât even get her to yawn, man.â
Mark doesnât 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, itâs not something youâve 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.
âYou okay?â He sounds genuinely worried for a second, forgetting that Donghyuckâs 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 youâre being honest.
âFucking big, Mark.â You hear Donghyuck tsk from his end, and you laugh breathlessly. âYou donât like knowing heâs big?â
âI just hate that fucker,â Donghyuck quips back easily, but thereâs no seriousness in his voice. If anything, it sounds a little raspy, with him clearing his throat soon afterward.
âWell, Iâm crazy about him,â you whisper into the call, and your breathing hitches as Mark finally bottoms out, groaning at your tightness. âIâm crazy about the way he touches me, the way he tastes. Iâm crazy about how big his cock is, how deep it gets when heâs inside me, how he stretches me out â fuckââ
Your verbal rampage is cut short by a loud moan as Mark draws his hips back and pushes forcefully into you; you havenât fully adjusted, and youâre even tighter now from what youâre 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 â hearing you talk that way and knowing that Donghyuck is listening is enough to get him to abandon self-imposed restrictions.
âMark,â 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 heâs there. âMark, fuck, it feels so goodââ
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 itâs with that hold on you that he leverages his thrusts, pumping into you a little harder each time.
Youâre not completely unaware of your surroundings, but it takes a while for you to process the sounds coming from the phoneâs speaker â 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 itâs all the cue Mark needs to be the one to fill in the relative silence himself.
âYouâre so fucking pretty,â 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. âIâll never get tired of how pretty you are â how pretty you always sound for me. Doesnât she sound pretty, Hyuck?â
âFucking pretty,â Donghyuck agrees, though his voice sounds somewhat distant. You can only sob back a quiet âfuck me, harder, harder,â in response.
âCan you imagine how much prettier she looks under me?â Itâs almost a full-blown conversation now, but even if Markâs addressing Donghyuck, the rest of his attentionâs 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. âBent 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?â
âIâm doing it right now.â
âItâs a thousand times better in person. Trust me.â
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 Markâs 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.
âMark, IâŚ. Iâve beenâ s-sinceââ
âNot yet,â 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. âHold out for me a bit, okay? Please. Itâs not enough. Not yet enough.â
You wonder if âenoughâ 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 isnât helping you stop it the way your body seems to think itâs supposed to. It also doesnât help that Markâs 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 â but not unpleasant â roughness, and you squeak out incoherently as he tweaks at the hardened bud of your nipple, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.
âHold on for me a little,â he continues murmuring, even after you shake your head and whisper âcanâtâ to him over and over. âDo it for me. Tell Donghyuck â tell him how good it feels. How much you want to keep feeling me inside you.â
You donât 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.
âItâs not enough,â you echo â and even if it feels like it is, even if it feels even more than you can possibly handle, something tells you that itâs true. âNot enough â need to feel you more, Mark. God, I want to feel you stretch me out, fuck my little hole into the shape of your cockâ until no one else can fuck me but youââ
âWhat,â Donghyuck breathes out, his exhale coming across as static. âThe fuck.â
You donât have to explain; your babblingâs 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. Heâs jacking off to the both of you, something in your mind whispers, and the notion of that alone has you tightening around Markâs cock. The change doesnât 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.
âHow much tighter can you get?â He sounds incredulous but also, interestingly, proud â thereâs a smug tinge to his voice that arouses you even more. âDoes it feel that good?â
âFuck, yes,â you breathe out, the syllables quivering in your throat. âSo good Iâm going to lose my mind. Let me â God, please, let meââ
âNot yet,â Mark mumbles, and you whimper as he slows and slips out of you, his hand gently rubbing your folds in what feels like comfort â a small apology for his overt enthusiasm that you donât even really need. âJust a little more. I need to see it.â
âSee what?â Donghyuckâs voice is barely above a whisper, hoarse and pretty much muffled by the sound of his hand pumping his own shaft. Your headâs 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. Youâve 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, thereâs something triumphant in his gaze.
âFucking gorgeous,â he coos, so lovingly itâd be hard to imagine his cock still sliding against your folds if you couldnât feel it yourself. âIâll never get enough of your perfect pussy â so perfect that it was made to take me.â
âSee what?â Donghyuck presses, an impatience now coloring his voice. Mark chuckles, nodding at you and mouthing silently. Tell him.
Your inhaleâs shaky, quivering like the rest of your body, and you donât ever break away from Markâs gaze, even as you speak.
âHis cock fucking me in my stomach.â
Donghyuckâs âJesus fucking Christâ is drowned out by your cry of need as Mark pushes back into you. Thereâs 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 thatâs 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. Youâre 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.
âGod, I need to feel it,â he groans out, his palms skimming under your navel, searching. âPlease â do it for me.â
Even with your brain muddled, you donât 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.
âThatâs my girl,â he murmurs, and you flush in pleasure, in satisfaction at his praise. âLove seeing my cock inside you.â
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 canât feel his cock under your palms, but you donât have to anyway; the fitâs tight enough that it feels, ridiculously, like heâs fucking your whole body, like heâs pressing into the deepest part of your core. You just want him to feel it more â the movement of the bulge under his hands, the resistance it has to push through to get to your stomach.
âLove feeling me inside you,â he continues, and his breathing stutters then, signaling that heâs also barely hanging on. âLove seeing how pretty you look when I rearrange your insides.â
You mouth out a disbelieving âwhat the fuckâ that earns you a simple smile, but Markâs unrelenting in his movements anyway, his palms completely covering your stomach.
âDude, I wanna see it too,â Donghyuck reminds you both of his presence when his voice comes through the speaker. âPut her on video.â
âNo way,â comes Markâs swift, firm reply. Donghyuck makes a noise of protest. âThis is just for me.â
âSelfish as hell, calling me without really sharing.â
âThe point wasnât really ever to share.â
Markâs 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 â it makes you feel used. Your hands fly up, fingers locking behind his neck, and you squirm under him, knowing fully well that you canât escape anyway â not that you really want to, anyway.
âMark,â you warn him again, your voice thin and airy. âI canât anymore â I reallyââ
âI got you,â he murmurs â something youâve come to learn he always says, always wants to let you know. Heâll be here until you break, until you canât take anymore. âOne second, okay?â
âBro, what? Are you seriousââ Even Donghyuck sounds confused, although his voice is tight too; he must be close, your mind weakly registers, but it doesnât matter. Mark, albeit reluctantly, slips one hand away from your stomach â for a good cause, he must think, and you learn what it is when he ends the call, effectively cutting off Donghyuckâs complaints. Your eyes widen in confusion, but all Markâs 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.
âCanât let him hear you cum,â he murmurs against your mouth. âThatâs only for me, isnât it?â
You nod, letting the movement of it brush your lips against his. âYouâre the only one Iâll cum for â the only one that can make me.â
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.
âDo it. Show me how pretty you look when you cum for me.â
You donât think itâs possible for him to inject any more strength into his movements, but he proves you wrong time and time again; the windâs 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 mindâs 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 doesnât 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 youâve come to know so well â the tightness in his jaw, the growing flush across his collar, the quick heaving of his chest. Heâs close too, so close heâs just holding himself back out of sheer force of will to make sure he can watch you come down from your climax completely. You donât know why he has to, but you want to see him let go too, and you scramble for words, for more touch â pressing your thighs firm against his sides to keep him close, locked â just to get him there.
âWill you mark me up one last time?â 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. âMark me â inside.â
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. âIâ no, you know I canâtâŚâ
âDo you want to?â You egg him on, your hand dropping from his chest to land on top of his again, adding to the pressure until youâre sure he can feel every small movement, every throb of his own cock inside you. âYou can, you know â make me yours, from the inside out.â
âGod â we canât; you know weâd be in so much trouble.â
âBut Iâd let you anyway, if you wanted to. Do you ever think about it, Mark?â Your fingers toy with his, almost like youâre having a casual conversation instead of a situation in which heâs deep inside you, already aching for release. âFucking your cum deep into me, letting it seep into my stomach â making sure no one else can fill me up?â
âJesus,â 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.
âThink about it,â you urge, your voice soft but close to a demand. âAnd every time you do, remember one day, you will â because youâre the only one that can.â
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 youâre 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.
âEven when you do that, youâre fucking pretty,â he groans out, and his thumb presses his cock down, resting the underside flush against your tongue as he rocks his hips. âHow much prettier are you going to look with my cum all over your face?â
He doesnât have to wait long to find out, and you donât 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 â 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; heâs 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 doesnât 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 heâd left, and his teeth nip at the soft bruise thatâs 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.
âJust⌠canât get enough of you,â he finally exhales, pressing another kiss to your neck; itâs gentler, situated just under your jaw.
âYou donât ever have to think about having enough,â you whisper, leaving a light nuzzle against his shoulder. âJust always think about having more.â
He lets out a breathy laugh, but he nods, accepting your offer anyway. A moment of silence passes, where youâre wrapped up in each other, his weight against you in a blanket of heat, and it stretches to what almost feels like an eternity â if not for the phone suddenly ringing again, Donghyuckâs 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.
âSeriously,â he grumbles, watching the call drop just for it to start up again, the screen flashing.
âWe kind of left him hanging, to be fair.â
âNo fairness.â Mark tosses the phone to the foot of the bed, where it lies, facedown and buzzing. âHe got more than he deserved today.â
You watch him as he slips off the bed, rearranging himself before clipping his jeans button back into place. He whispers a gentle âbe right backâ 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 itâs ridiculous, but mostly because you like it. He cleans your mouth last, even though thereâs already nothing left, just so he has an excuse to leave a long, lasting kiss there.
You think itâs the last youâll 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.
âOne day,â he whispers into your skin before he looks up at you, his eyes shining. âIâll really make you all mine.â
âDummy.â 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. âHow many times do I have to tell you?â
âEvery single day, considering Iâll never get tired of it.â
You hum, not one to deny him of what he asks anyway; you push him back onto his calves, climbing back onto his lap; itâs your favorite way to be near him, you decide, with almost nothing between you, almost everything of yours touching everything of his â 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 â to make sure he wonât let go. Just like that, in his arms, you say it again â a truth, a fact, and a promise.
âI already am.â
4K notes
¡
View notes
sweet cream, cold brew | lmh ( m )
something about mark lee keeps you up at night, and youâre pretty sure that it isnât the lingering smell of espresso on his shirt.
alternatively: mark is shy until he isnât.
read the second part here!
pairing: nerd!barista!mark x reader
verse: college au
rating: r ( minors, do not interact! )
warnings&tags: unprotected sex, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slightly possessive/jealous dialogue, mark has a thing for tummy bulges because why not, implicitly that also means he has a big dick, a slight???? exhibitionism kink (not actually something that happens, only talked about), johnny exists in this simply to trigger something vaguely feral in mark, reader is a little bit assertive and schemes to get mark's attention, jaehyun is a nosy lil eavesdropper, i think that should be it??
word count: 26.4k
a/n: hello so this was a mess and honestly not a fic i would say showcases my best plot-wise but⌠what can I say apart from booty wurk mark has me in a chokehold and I needed to release some thoughts and feelings !!! please do not expect too much from the development of the story; i fear itâs quite long and choppy because my ideas were all over the place and i was wringing my hands and brain constantly and i was eager to get to the spicy parts !! this is also not betaâd/proofread, itâs currently almost 1am, and iâve been writing this on and off for a full week with very few breaks so it honestly felt like a fever dream for me LMAO please forgive any oversights and mistakes; iâll try to go back on them another day and fix them little by little! finally and âŚmost importantly belated happy birthday, my beloved morkly!
p.s. this will probably be flagged as âmatureâ by tumblr, which means thereâs a high likelihood it wonât appear in tags or searches. please consider reblogging to boost the fic, if you feel so inclined!
Youâve heard tell of how caffeine has inherently addictive properties.Â
The more of it you have in your lifetime, the more likely you are to experience symptoms of withdrawal whenever you try to have orange juice for breakfast in its stead. It sounds bad, actually, considering most addictive substances are, but you suppose that its benefits somehow outweigh its milder drawbacks. Youâre not much of a coffee connoisseur the way some people â see: your best friends, Yeji and Jisu â are, trying one cafe after the other in pursuit of being able to nominate the winning beans of 2023 (an annual heated debate they participate in for no better reason than their own slow and useless entertainment during their six-hour long breaks), but you do know youâve only ever experienced good things from having a cup every so often: better energy, a more focused approach to mental activities, and the ability to drive through fifty percent of a road trip without needing pop punk music blasting out of your speakers to keep yourself alert.Â
The three of you are generally particular about the coffee you drink, only in different ways. While your friends have a tendency to demand only the best from any establishment â lest the staff hear fiery commentary about the flatness of the brew or the evident coarseness of the grind â you, on the other hand, are a singular individual of rather simple tastes. All you need to survive long days is a glass of vanilla sweet cream cold brew. No modifications to the sugar level or fancy new milk types are necessary; youâll drink it as itâs served in a grande cup (or a venti, when things prove particularly grueling).Â
Of course, youâre strict about other things in the experience of consumption â like where itâs served and, more importantly, who serves it to you.Â
While Yeji and Jisu have rated the Liberal Arts buildingâs on-campus Starbucks branch as a five with the strict label of POEO â âpassable on emergencies onlyâ â branding the menu as ânothing revolutionaryâ and criticizing most baristas for subpar brewery, you happen to be extremely drawn to the place. Initially, you may have argued that this has to do with the fact that itâs walking distance from most of your classes, confined to the same general compound on campus, so you can always grab a quick recharger whenever needed, no matter how short the timeframe to do so is. Sometime later on, you may have found yourself asserting that the layout of the cafe, albeit small, is very convenient, considering that every table is situated next to an electrical outlet, so youâre never out of battery (important to other students for their laptops and powerpoint presentations, important to you because you have an unhealthy obsession with passing time on TikTok, scrolling past video after video of ASMR girls clicking their twenty-inch long acrylics with their crazy candyland designs), and this makes you feel at ease.Â
A month ago, you finally came clean to yourself and, soon after, to your friends, and they came to understand, albeit begrudgingly and with no small amount of amusement, what made this Starbucks unbeatable in your eyes; it had one thing no other coffee shop could lay claim to.
What you know of Mark Lee is accrued from two major sources: long, surreptitious glances in the Modern World History class you share, and irritatingly brief interactions when you place your order from the other side of the counter behind which he stands, long fingers always poised to punch in your order at the speed of light. Sometimes, those encounters get cut even shorter when irate upperclassmen start prattling their orders out before you can even say anything past your own, except even this has its own consolation prize â an apologetic smile at you that seems only for you, although youâre not sure how much of this assumption is true. Youâll just believe it as you feel it.Â
And what youâve learned about Mark Lee has funneled down into two key points for you: first, he is single, a fact you were clued into when a group of his friends came to the coffee shop and sat around the table next to you. You hadnât been eavesdropping; theyâd just been pretty loud, but youâd also perked your ears the moment the one everyone seemed to call âHyuckâ â you arenât sure if itâs his full name or a nickname, and you donât particularly care â had leaned in for a conspiratorial whisper about having a vague master plan to set Mark up with an old high school friendâs younger sister that he was just waiting to spring on said Mark, busy slaving away on their six impossible orders near the espresso machine.Â
You donât really know what became of that plan, nor if anyone had telepathically been on your side to outright call it crazy (someone should have had a better reason than you, anyway) since the next moment, Hyuckâs voice becomes significantly louder when it orders the one named Jisung to collect the completed coffee and snacks waiting for them on the counter. However, you feel safe in the assumption that even if it had happened, no repercussions had followed, seeing as Mark still presently comes and goes from his shifts alone and in no clear hurry to meet any cute girls that are sisters of high school friends of his friends. Or, maybe youâre just ignoring what could be truth, but thatâs whatever.Â
Second, youâve learned that Mark Lee should not actually be your type â at least, in theory.Â
Saying youâre out of his league would be a bit juvenile, but if you had only so many words to describe the situation, youâd say so under duress. It isnât so much that heâs beneath you in any way, but your interests and general social circles run different routes. Yours tend to be more classically patterned after constantly changing trends, and the people you interact with all seem to have similar goals; you like to call it âvibe networking,â which, from experience, involves connecting with both groups and individuals that are equally aware that they will benefit in some way from any resulting acquaintanceship â whether it be by climbing the social ladder a couple of rungs or being able to call in a quick, off-the-charts favor for something very important and/or very exclusive down the road. You and your friends spend a significant amount of time in a year watching your style and image, something quite a lot of kids in the first couple of years of college tend to do, which means that while you donât particularly like to spend your time following your grade trajectory, you do have quite a lot of pseudo-friends that all seem to offer something entertaining or helpful to you.Â
Mark, on the contrast, prefers to keep his circle very close to his heart, it seems â that which acts as a receptacle for all his interests. You can tell that he likes to be up to date less with trending movies and more with comic books, a separate beast of a world thatâs rather unknown to you. More than once, youâve overheard him chat with his friends about Spider-man Issue Number Whatever-It-Is or engage in somewhat lively (sometimes rowdy, thanks to the Hyuck fellow) discussions about some webtoon youâve come to understand is called Solo Leveling, which seems to have to do with monsters and hunters â two things you know next to nothing about. Youâve also never seen Mark holding anything remotely close to a magazine; his hands are always filled with either a freshly opened comic or a beat-up textbook. Maybe once or twice, youâve seen him on his phone, but when you peeked over (surreptitiously, of course) on those occasions, you were met only with brightly colored panels and a singular word: BAM.Â
In conclusion â you and Mark Lee live very different lives, likely never truly meant to intersect.Â
And yet, you want him â not even in a way that speaks only to your curiosity, but in a manner that feels slightly delusional. More than once, youâve found yourself having to shut your jaw close after realizing youâve been watching him steam milk with your mouth slightly agape. Maybe itâs his side profile, which gives you a great view of the way his jaw tenses every time he puts whipped cream on someoneâs frappuccino. Maybe itâs his eyes, which always seem to twinkle like heâs harboring some special secret every time someone in line asks for his recommendation on how to spice their order up. Maybe itâs his hands, steady and agile, with just the right showing of veins through the skin to tell you theyâve probably got significant strength to them too. Or maybe itâs just his mind â that thing he always manages to show off in class, working faster than lightning even when the rest of you are in your natural eight-in-the-morning stupor.
Whatever the reason for your interest, Mark Lee makes sure the Liberal Arts buildingâs Starbucks has you as a regular customer.Â
Youâre fully aware that this is the twenty-first century, which is why you could, as Yeji and Jisu have so kindly made known, simply ask him out. Under normal circumstances, you would have.
Unfortunately, in this particular area of your life, separate from all others, youâre something of a traditionalist.Â
Actually, you just want to know what Mark asking you out would look like. Curiosity has fully gotten the better of you â how can it not, with how he breaks eye contact with you the moment it happens by accident in class, or with how pleasantly and shyly he smiles when you say âheyâ to him once youâre about to order? Youâd like to see, first-hand, as a recipient of the experience itself, what he would look like taking control of a particular situation like that â something someone like him, so mild-mannered and laid-back, never really seemed to do upfront.Â
Youâd like to think youâve given him clear signs. Thereâs a reason you always come in during his shift times, and itâs the same reason for why you have the same damn drink from the menu over and over again despite not even caring too much about coffee in the first place (something he admittedly doesnât know and probably wouldnât puzzle out, given how often youâre in that Starbucks, anyway). Itâs that you want him to remember you.
Selfishly, itâs that you want him to think just a little bit more about you every single day.Â
But if he does, Mark has never made it very clearly known; apart from taking your order in his genial customer service demeanor or letting a look of brief recognition pass his face over when you cross paths in the hallways, heâs never really shown heightened inquisitiveness about you. For all your differences, only you seem to actually care.
Frankly, that frustrates you, because if you have to think about him unhealthily, it would only be right for him to do that for your sake too. Still, youâll shrug that hit on your pride off for as long as you can get his attention one way or another.
All you really need is for your plan to pan out as well as you think â and hope â it will.Â
The thing is, youâre not even that bad at math. Youâve never really excelled at it, of course, but you wouldnât go so far as to say youâre in dire need of help from anyone â the kind of help that feels like babysitting, at least.
However, Mark Lee doesnât know that, and youâre not compelled to make that fact known to him when you notice that heâs leaning on the counter with his elbows, shoulders rolled forward and head bent down. Heâs twirling his ballpoint in hand, wrist hovering over a worksheet, and youâre briefly distracted by the rapidly moving shadow underneath it.
His head snaps up when you gently knock on the counter, and the rest of his body follows suit, straightening as he shoves the paper away, one edge crumpling in on itself as it meets resistance in the form of the pastry display glass.
âHey â hi, _________.â He knows your name, says it easily, and while youâd like to believe itâs because of his unprecedented interest in you, you know that itâs just because youâre always here and always having him write your name on the side of your cup. âCan I get you the usual?â
Thereâs no particular reason you order what you do; maybe itâs just rooted in the fact that when you first asked Mark for a recommendation, he said that the Vanilla Sweet Cream Cold Brew was pretty good, and you were inclined to believe him (while pointedly ignoring the fact that it was, at the time, a new item all of the baristas were required to push to indecisive, slightly moony-eyed customers such as yourself). Whatever the case, you found the drink generally palatable, and you were also able to score the first of many smiles that fed into your two-semester-long infatuation with him, so it was basically a win-win scenario for all. He even got to do his job by getting some rube (see: you) into trying a new product.
âHey, Mark.â Youâve long since given up pretending that you donât know his name and have to check the tag on his cute green apron (why is it cute? You donât know. Itâs the same, standard, Starbucks green, but Mark makes it look homely and natural, somehow). Youâve been here way too many times over the last academic year for a nonchalant, were you talking to me? approach to work, anyway. âThat, plus a lemon loaf, if you donât mind. Whatâve you got there?â
His eyes follow the trail of yours over to his wrinkled worksheet. âOh â no, sorry. Itâs nothing.â
âIs it secret?â Your bottom lip juts out, and you see his Adamâs apple bob dangerously, a small telltale sign of minute nervousness before he lets out a short laugh. âDidnât know we kept stuff from each other.â
You donât know what makes you say that so naturally. The both of you donât do much beyond exchanging pleasantries.
âWe â uh, well, itâs just a worksheet. For Park Hyosungâs class. College algebra?â
âIâm in Kim Junghwaâs. Can I have a look? I want to know if youâre suffering just as much as I am.â
He pauses, considering your request for a moment, likely wondering if thereâs any harm in it before he smooths the paper out and turns it towards you. His handwritingâs a little messy, but his solutions are extremely neat. You see, like, one erasure, max. You also donât see anything that interests you â except the name written at the top. Still, you can see at a general glance that more than half of his answers are correct; the logic of his organization is way too elegant and his writingâs too sure to be anything else. You whistle low, and his eyebrows shoot up.
âSomething wrong?â
âPretty much the opposite. How is it that youâre doing this without breaking a sweat?â
âOh, well â itâs notâŚâ He doesnât even know how to brag. Yet another item in the perpetually growing list of things you find cute about Mark Lee. âI mean, anyone⌠can?â
âI must not be anyone then.â You meet his quizzical look with a wry smile. âEither you guys are leaps and bounds ahead, or Iâm really not going to make it through this semester.â
Another silence passes, just for a fraction of a second â short enough to be passable to others, but long enough for you to wonder if your humor code isnât up to par with the rest of the worldâs â before Markâs chuckling lowly. His large palm comes down, covering a majority of his answers in the process.
âYouâre kidding. Iâm sure youâre doing just fine.â
âMark, look at this face.â You gesture to your evidently dumbfounded, blank expression. âDoes this look like the face of someone thatâs doing just fine?â
Youâre pleased to hear another laugh from him; you donât know if he really finds you funny or if heâs just the type to be easily amused. You donât want to know, anyway; assuming is better than actually finding out.
âThat bad, huh?â He slides the worksheet away again, like heâs afraid his correct answers are going to offend you into leaving the cafe. Instead, his hands start working on your order, grabbing a cup and scrawling the shorthand of the drink on one of the little boxes. âEver think about getting a tutor, maybe? If you really feel like youâre drowning, that is.â
âA tutor? I guess that depends. Are you free on weeknights?â
The marker makes a soft screeching sound as he drags it down with too much force, ruining the penmanship of your name. Mark takes a moment to stare at the mistake on the plastic before he looks at you, pointing the rim of the cup towards himself. âSorry â am I freeâ?â
âYou said I should get a tutor, right?â
âI thought â no, sorry, I was thinking more like one of those department-assigned tutors you can ask the faculty for, or something.â
âOh. Are you not one of them?â You sigh, albeit a little over dramatically. Thankfully, he doesnât really cotton onto your acting, too caught up in befuddlement at the turn of the conversation. âThatâs a bummer. I was kinda hoping that if I was going to ask for help, Iâd get an actual genius. You know â someone like you?â
You can tell by Markâs expression that heâs torn between denying your compliment again and responding to your actual question; he looks both relieved and miffed when the student behind you clears her throat.
âSorry, butâ you know that thereâs a line, right?â
You both apologize, Markâs much more sincere than your own, and you step aside. His gaze follows you for a moment before it snaps back to the next customer, his voice abandoning that bemused uncertainty it had taken up with you. You donât really mind; as far as youâre concerned, any dent in his barista persona when he talks to you is a step in the right direction.
You hang around the pick-up area, receipt in hand, watching Mark clear the line before moving to the actual stations near the kitchen area. Thereâs a concentration on his face that you find all the more attractive; he has a habit of chewing on his bottom lip when heâs trying to focus on getting the drizzle just right inside the cupâs cylinder.
He tends to try his best at everything, you figure. Not an unattractive quality â not by a long shot.
Mark finishes your drink first; the milkâs still only seeping, cloudy, into the coffee when he brings it over. He doesnât even have to call your queue number, opting to meet your eye â albeit slightly nervously â instead. You reach out to hold the cup, a calculated move that allows you to brush hands against his without him being able to pull back on instinct. He doesnât, nor does he really seem to want to, but his jaw tightens as a flush creeps along the curve of his ears.
âYou really wonât help me?â
Your questionâs abrupt, almost a little demanding, even if your voice is sweet. Youâre not above asking this much, anyway, even if you technically want him to make the first move. The redness sinks down to his earlobes.
âI didnât say that.â
âYou didnât really say anything,â you tease. The cupâs on the counter now, so he can easily relinquish it to you at this point, but he still hesitates, only one hand slipping out from under the heat of your palm. He uses it to rub the back of his neck, chuckling softly, and you take this as a green light. âWhat time does your shift end?â
âFive-thirty. You sure you wouldnât want someone better?â
You pull your cup slowly to yourself, and his hand, still lightly trapped by your own, follows for a few inches before heâs withdrawing, the counter between the two of you forcing the distance. A smile follows the shaking of your head, and you take a small sip of the drink before you respond simply.
âThereâs no one better than you.â
Mark is a prompt kind of person; you learn this when, at five-thirty, he comes over to your table, tugging his apron off over his head. Of course, you might attribute that to his overall personality, but the fact that you spend the remaining two hours of his shift casting him glances from the left side of the coffee shop might have also been a contributing factor. The looks you give him arenât even furtive; theyâre deliberately long, so you never miss whenever he looks over to you from time to time.
He doesnât hold eye contact for very long (he does it well enough when heâs talking to customers, but itâs not like youâre ordering another cold brew from across the room at that point), but you can read snippets of his thoughts through the fleeting gaze exchanges. Heâs curious as to why youâre asking for help, now, of all times, when the semesterâs more than halfway over. Heâs surprised that you asked him, of all people, because he just canât conceive of a world that isnât within a television show where this kind of abrupt, overt request makes sense. Heâs flattered that you even asked him out of the blue. Heâs equal parts anxious and eager to know whatâs meant to happen after his shift, once he starts fulfilling your request.
Most of all, heâs unsure if heâs reading you right â if what it feels like youâre doing is something heâs attaching too deep a meaning to. If heâs right in reading your signs.
You donât really mind it; you like knowing that Mark somehow wears his heart on his sleeve, even if he tries to remain neutral for the sake of appearances. You also bask quietly in the fact that heâs looking at you twice as much as he ever has in the time youâve loosely known each other. Still, his bubbling confusion and inquisitiveness seem to be interfering with the rest of his work, especially when you notice that heâs been wiping down the surface of a table two down from where you are for more than seven minutes.
In the hopes of easing whatever tension might be in his heart, you offer him a small smile, but thatâs only met with his eyes immediately glazing over and inching a couple of centimeters above your forehead, where the story of Starbucksâ origins is drawn out in a faux-manga style. He pretends to find it interesting, as if he hasnât seen it a million times from coming into this establishment day after day â you know it well enough, and you donât even have to, considering you donât work here â and you canât do anything but hold back your laughter.
A small part of you says you should just give him the affirmative answer to his biggest question, but every other cell in your body says that itâs no fun if he doesnât ascertain it for himself.
He has his school bag and textbook in tow when he approaches, taking the seat across from you. Thereâs a steely resolution on his face, like heâs been emotionally preparing himself for such a daunting task, but it eases up the moment you laugh lightly.
âYou donât have to act like Iâm going to eat you.â
âIâm still not sure why youâre suddenly asking me to help you,â he admits. Heâs also very honest, you note. Again, not an unattractive trait. âIâm not complaining. I just didnât think you even had an opinion of me.â
âWhyâs that?â Youâre genuinely surprised. Mark drums his fingers on the front of his textbook, thoughtful â less for the sake of thinking what to say and more for the sake of considering how to say it. Itâs clear he wants to avoid calling attention to the fact that before now, you two have had no reason to run the same track, let alone sit together and talk at a coffee shop, as if youâve always been the best of friends.
âGenuinely just thought I was the guy who gave you your afternoon coffee every day,â he finally settles. Your eyes widen, and another laugh escapes you â a little louder this time, enough to call the attention of a couple of jumpy freshmen nearby.
âWell â let me put it this way.â You lean over slightly, cupping your chin in your palm. âWas I just the girl you made coffee for every day until now?â
There are clear cogs turning in his head; his eyes unfocus slightly as he thinks of the possibilities. His silence suddenly makes you somewhat nervous; your tone had been confident, and youâd only said that to prove a point, to push him in the right direction, but you realize that you hadnât previously factored in the possibility that he might simply say yes â or, worse, say no just to avoid hurting your feelings.
You watch his lower lip curl in; he uses his tongue to smooth out the skin thatâs slightly dried from work fatigue. You would much rather it peeked out, so you could imagine it against your own. His response is mumbled in a lower register, but you catch some key syllables â didnât⌠not ⌠stranger â pretty ⌠you?
âSorry?â You ask patiently, but the fact that he turns red and laughs again â something you realize is not only a trademark of his personality but also downright delicious of him to be doing â is all the answer you need to let the apprehension seep from your shoulders. âI didnât catch that.â
Mark clears his throat. âNo, I⌠didnât think of you that way. I mean⌠youâre my classmate.â
âSure,â your toneâs breezy, but the somewhat sloppy confirmation of interest in you makes your heart soar. He just needs more of a push. âAnd weâre basically friends, right?â
âYeah.â His voice is unsure at first, like he canât seem to wrap his head around the concept. You can tell that Markâs notion of friendship is likely based on shared interests, of which you admittedly have none. Technically, if you were his friend, youâd spend less time just telling him the exact same order every single day and more time sitting around a table trying to learn how to play Magic: The Gathering with him. Still, he takes one long look at your grin and suddenly gains confidence in his next words, as if it somehow convinces him that the briefness of your old conversations had been a mutually agreed-upon thing and not the product of social distance between the two of you. âYeah. Weâre friends.â
âRight. Friends help friends, donât they? Iâd definitely feel more comfortable having a friend teach me than some stuffy upperclassman I donât know.â
You see Markâs lips move slightly, in such small movements you could have imagined it as breathing if you didnât care too much (which you do). He mouths, to himself â friends help friends. For some reason, that boosts his conviction even further, and he nods.
âMakes sense. Well â for as long as you donât mind me, then.â
âMind? I asked you, so I should be saying that.â
âIâd never mind â I mean, of course I donât mind.â Heâs quick to correct himself, and you have to stop your own hand from reaching out to try to satisfy your curiosity, the desire to know just how hot his cheeks get when he blushes. âMore than happy to help, actually.â
âAnd Iâm more than happy to be here.â You beam at him, and he mirrors your smile. You donât know what it is about the look on his face â the brightness in his eyes, or the slight lift of his eyebrows, maybe â but it gives you the impression that he might be feeling at least a fraction of what you are: the feeling of your heart lifting off a few inches from your rib cage. âSince weâre on the same page, I hope â should we get to it?â
From the moment that Mark opens his textbook to a chapter on inverted parabolas, he assumes a personality you feel you havenât seen from him before. You realize that you really do know him in only two limited capacities â his classroom persona that seems to really only view himself and the material, focused on the board and the professorâs words (even up until the useless anecdotes) to absorb as much information as possible, and his more genial customer service form, always happy to assist in the trained, easygoing way youâve come to meet so often.
Right now, heâs a blend of both, yet somehow neither all at once. Heâs quick to catch the parabolas you draw, either wrongly or downright poorly. Despite initial hesitation, he always manages to say something; thereâs already a pattern to how he does it, from his slightly awkward, âAh, sorry, actually ââ to the way his finger traces over what youâve written, outlining the right curve. You find his interruptions so endearing that you start drawing them wrong purposefully â not enough for him to realize your schemes in their entirety, but enough to cast you a few amused glances, like he canât imagine why youâd map out such an absurd graph. You get the feeling he wants to actually laugh at how ridiculous youâre acting, but he canât tell if youâre seriously struggling or not, so he settles for a smile he thinks he does well in keeping to himself, but that you catch anyway. Heâs patient, even when you have to rip out pages from the back of his notebook because of your âmistakes,â like heâs still catering to your request for an extra pump of syrup for your coffee on sleepy days.
But thereâs also that side to him that comes out when he suddenly remembers the distance between you that, before today, had felt unlikely to be closed. It peaks at odd moments, like when youâre borrowing his pen because yours is currently holding your slowly unraveling bun up, and your fingers brush against his. It surfaces abruptly when you lean in to watch what heâs drawing until he realizes how close you are, arm lightly grazing his, and his pen freezes, ink blotting on the paper for a second. Itâs in those times that you can almost hear his brain churning out questions â like heâs wondering if youâre just oblivious or if youâre doing something on purpose that he canât quite believe. Like he wants to ask you whatâs on your mind, but he just doesnât know how.
If he asked, you would reply without missing a beat. The answer, after all, is simple (him). But Mark never raises the question, only does something without fully acknowledging what heâs doing â the adjustment of his glasses on the bridge of his nose, the ruffling of his hair as though to shake off his thoughts, the clearing of his throat to normalize his tone before he explains something youâve just asked about. Thereâs always that light tinge of pink to his face that makes him look even more endearing, and it fades and returns every so often for the better part of two hours.
By the time he rubs oncoming fatigue out of his eyes, the sun has already set; there are far fewer people around you at this time, and for as much as you like spending time with him and breathing in the scent of his shirt â always a tinge of Downy, barely cutting through the much more overpowering scent of espresso and sugar â your back has begun hurting from your front-heavy posture and determination to have your face as close as rationally possible to Markâs. Still, you donât miss out on the fact that the act of him cracking his neck to relieve tension makes your lips curl inward, trying to stifle an inappropriate noise in reaction to the view.
âI feel like I talked your ear off,â he pipes up, sounding a bit sheepish. âSometimes itâs hard to know when to stop once youâve gotten started. Iâm just hoping I didnât bore you to death.â
âMeanwhile, Iâm here hoping you arenât sick of my questions already.â You smile, closing your notebook and hanging the clip of your pen on the spiral. Your arms stretch up first, followed by your back, a light twist to relax your posture into normalcy again. Markâs breathing falls quiet, like heâd been preparing to say something in response but had let it die in the back of his throat instead. You let your eyes drop, expecting to see him looking at you, as he mostly has been â on and off â since his shift ended, but his eyes are far lower than yours, the telltale redness now growing in evident splotches across his cheeks.
The hem of your shirt has ridden up; while thereâs nothing outrageous about it, thereâs a short expanse of skin that it reveals, for a brief moment. His eyes are slightly glossy, brow furrowed like heâs trying to find a solution to something he canât fully understand. Youâre not even sure about what he could really be looking at, or if thereâs something heâs just thinking of that caught his attention while his eyes focused on a rather unfortunate spot. To test your theory, you suck in your stomach slightly alongside an inhale.
It should be objectively funny to watch Mark blink unevenly, left eye going first before his right tries to catch up, but you manage to stifle your laughter â poorly, though, because you end up coughing a little and breaking him out of his strange trance. You avert your eyes quickly enough for him to look vaguely relieved that you hadnât caught him looking. So he thinks, at least.
âAnyway.â You feel bad that you have to tear his mind away from whatever faraway land it must be trying to burrow a hole in; the dazed expression on his face dims into hastily hidden embarrassment. You donât want him to feel awkward, so you just busy yourself with packing up, making an unnecessary show of stuffing your notebook back into your bag as if it isnât half-empty at this point. âI really appreciate you taking the time to help me.â
âAny time.â His first attempt is a little raspy, maybe from overuse of his voice today, so he clears his throat and tries again. A slow smile builds on your lips. âAny time, really. Iâm glad that this is actually helping you; you pick things up surprisingly fast.â
âWait, really?â
âYeah. Give it a couple of weeks, and youâll probably be ready to tackle it on your own again, Iâm sure.â
He smiles reassuringly, but all you can think about is how thatâs not good. You should pretend to be a little dumber next time, or this will end much too prematurely.
The next five minutes pass in silence; you donât expect to be knee-deep in conversation anyway since, as much as you try to convince him, you arenât actually anywhere close to being those kinds of friends yet. Thereâs an unspoken rule to the give and take of things, where he pauses for you to get an item off the table and push it into your bag before he does the same with his own belongings. Neither of you really intersect paths, save for the moment you both grab your phones and stand at the same time.
His jaw falls open like heâs preparing to say something, then shuts as if heâs better decided against it. You decide to take the initiative to say what youâre assuming he wants to. âSame time, same table?â
âOh â uh, yeah, for sure.â
You want to ask him to walk out with you. You want to lace your fingers with his, tug him out, and kiss him under the green and white glow of the sign outside. You want to know if kissing his collarbone means youâll taste a hint of coffee. You think about doing it all somehow, especially since heâs fighting back a slight smile at the promise of tomorrow.
But it just isnât the right time.
Instead, you place a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. The slow movement of his throat â yet another hard swallow â isnât lost on you, and his eyes land on where the two of you connect. With a grateful smile, you bid him a soft goodbye, taking your leave first.
You donât look back â at least, not until youâre fully in the cover of the darkness outside. On the gravel path, just out of reach of the lamplight, you chance one last glance back into the store. Mark is still rooted to the same spot, his backpack slung over one shoulder, staring at the table like heâs dissociating from what just happened â like he canât believe the last couple of hours.
Your smile grows when you see his own, and his hand comes around to the back of his neck, rubbing it lightly like it gives him small comfort to let him know that it was real.
Baby steps, you remind yourself. Youâve already got one foot in the door, after all.
As the days trickle by, you fall into a more comfortable standing with Mark; thereâs a routine to your meetings that seems to eliminate the initial and abrupt awkwardness of that first day. You come into that Starbucks at four, greet Mark, who doesnât ever have to ask for your order, and spend the next hour and a half slowly sipping on it until the ice has thinned and watered down your drink substantially. In that time, you allow yourself to do whatever you want (as if youâve ever done otherwise anyway), and what you usually want the most is a good view of him. You therefore use most of the minutes you have on hand to regard him from different angles â from the side when heâs frothing milk, upfront when he turns to leave cups on the pick-up counter, from the back when heâs clearing tables â interspersed with moments of checking your TikTok feed, clearing group chat messages, and sometimes re-curling your bangs with a portable iron from the schoolâs co-op center, a relatively new purchase you tote around these days. You do essentially anything in between to avoid acting too suspicious while he works.
Sometimes, you catch Markâs eye too; the more your meetings increase in number over the course of a few weeks, the more deliberately he looks over at you, and the longer it lasts. You feel like youâve made significant progress when your gazes lock and he smiles slightly, albeit a bit unsurely, instead of turning away like he used to. The other day, heâd even passed by while apologizing for how long you always waited for him â not that you ever minded, something you made a point to clarify with him before he walked away, carrying a couple of chairs from the back room with him to replace rickety ones.
That heâs able to transport them easily, as if heâs lugging a bag of apples from the grocery, does not escape your watchful eye.
What you like the most is that you start to learn more about him in a way that isnât fueled only by your expectations and, therefore, limited by your imagination. You find out that heâs from a close-knit family with a rather cushy background, and this barista job is just for interest funding and experience, in that exact order. Most of his earnings are funneled into the things he collects, which apparently isnât limited to comic books and special edition blu-rays with directorâs cut but also a rather stupendous amount of PopMart blind box figurines. Apparently, he particularly likes the Skullpanda series even if he hasnât completed it yet; your last session together had adjourned thirty minutes earlier than usual so that he could catch a pre-rush hour inner circle train to Hongdae, where the flagship store was set to open on that day. Heâd promised to show you his pulls (as long as they werenât embarrassing dupes). You learn that he likes to listen to loud music when he studies to stimulate his mind, and he has a playlist thatâs just a jumble of songs from Punk Goes Pop volumes that makes him feel empowered for some absurd reason, like heâs going against the grain. You donât really get it, but you do like that spiced-up rendition of Ariana Grandeâs Problem that he let you listen to once.
Of course, there are things that you find out not through conversation but through continued, closer observation. You notice that he likes to put on chapstick even if his lips arenât particularly dry, but he does worry on them often, most especially when heâs thinking hard about something. He has a habit of saying honestly⌠at the start of every other sentence, as if heâs concerned you wonât take his word on anything, even though heâs just talking about how unnaturally hot it was at noon despite it still being spring. He has long eyelashes that youâre equal parts attracted to and jealous of, and he bites the inside of his cheek whenever he wants to pep himself up after grueling shifts. He plays beats youâre not even sure he knows heâs creating against his knee with his fingers, so enthusiastic and consistent in this habit that you want to offer your thigh instead. His shoulders always go first before he laughs, and he does this thing where he raises his hand to cover his mouth at the start of it, which is a shame, because youâd do anything to keep seeing him smile like that â or, better yet, to be the reason for it.
Then there are those things you notice he tries to hide. He always turns his face halfway to the side when he blushes, something he seems to do without fail every time you smile at him. He has to temper the intensity of his grin when you take the time to compliment him on how cool his shirt is, or how nice his hair looks today, or how smart he is, like he doesnât want you to know how good it makes him feel even if you want him to feel good about it, around you, because of you. Sometimes he denies it for the sake of responding, and his voice always lilts on the first syllable in his refusal to accept what you say, even though he knows you wonât take it for an answer.
And after a couple more careful experiments, you notice that Mark, out of the many things heâs interested in, seems to have a particular thing for your stomach.
You donât know if it has anything to do with him not really seeing much of it in real life in his own time or if he just has his own kind of fixation on it, but you start to cotton on by the fourth time you meet. An hour of being hunched over a table thatâs not at the greatest height in relation to your neck and torso has you stiff, and youâd leaned back in your chair, arms pulling to the air, hoping your spine might feel like realigning if you exerted enough tension pressure that way. Your shirt hadnât ridden up this time, considering it had been tucked into your jeans, and it was because of this that youâd caught a flicker of something new in his face that you hadnât seen before.
You could have sworn it looked like disappointment.
Of course, he hides it quickly, as he does with most of his emotional candor, but itâs enough to make you suspicious â enough to make you wonder if Mark is also just keeping something to himself. Or maybe youâre just projecting your own presently secretive nature onto him. Regardless, you think itâs odd that whenever you stand up or stretch, his eyes almost immediately fall to your midriff, like he wants to challenge your clothing into a staring contest before he thinks better of it.
You donât mind, anyway. He can look as much as he likes. Maybe when the weatherâs warmer, youâll even cater to that interest and wear a crop top. Hopefully, thatâll be the push he needs to act on human instinct and ask you out or, like⌠bend you over. Maybe.
Youâre often plagued with these kinds of thoughts in between the ones you try to keep as family-friendly as possible â now, more so than ever.
Sometimes, itâs easier, especially when youâre caught up in talks with him; despite the fact that he doesnât seem like much of a conversationalist when it comes to generic matters, when either he or you are enthusiastic about a particular topic, he has a tendency to get carried away. Thereâs nothing impure about how his eyes light up when you remember to ask him about the movie he saw with his friends over the weekend or the way he hums old Nickelodeon cartoon theme songs under his breath whenever heâs looking for a page in the textbook. Itâs more of a situation where youâll observe something and immediately run with it despite it being an objectively normal action.
Like right now, as youâre watching him turn his pen between his fingers. Now, while heâs shaking his knee in mild impatience, as if heâs trying to will the answer to the worksheets youâve both been trying to get through for the better part of the day faster. Youâd made copies of the problems your professors had assigned and exchanged them under the premise of being able to practice more intensely.
However, whereas Mark is actually focused on solving, youâre just watching him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if heâs ever been told that his fingers are fuck-worthy on a singular, unique level or if itâd feel good for you to ride the thigh heâs currently moving, jeans and all. You consider the feeling of his warm palms on your bare waist as you do it, and you end up wondering if thatâs what crosses his mind whenever he sneaks glances at you, too.
Youâd know the answer to all those things if heâd fucking ask you out. Maybe you could do it after all. Maybe you should, instead of relying on slowly increasing the probability over such a long period of time. Maybe if you asked nicely, Mark might pull the shades down on the storefront windows and rail you against the glass.
Youâre so lost in thought that it genuinely startles you when he plops his textbook over the worksheet, rattling your eraser dangerously close to the edge of the table. Youâre still clutching your heart while he rubs his eyes a little too violently.
âCanât,â he groans, and his neck gives into the weight of his head, allowing it to loll backward. âI feel like the numbers are just melting into each other. I swear, I thought I could read words out of them.â
âMaybe we were a little too ambitious with the double worksheet agenda,â you admit, even though youâve barely gotten past half of yours and certainly havenât touched a single item on his. âShould we call it a day for now?â
âYeah,â he agrees, although he still takes the time to encircle his final answers before clapping his palms to his cheeks (an act that has your mind dangerously close to wandering off inappropriately again) to wake himself up. âWoah. I didnât even notice how dark it is already. Iâd say time flies when youâre having fun, but Iâm not too sure about the âfunâ part of itâŚâ
You trace his gaze towards the glass; the moonâs already out, surrounded by a smattering of low-light stars. You hadnât realized how late it had gotten, probably because your mind had been on R-18 mode for most of the afternoon. Also, the days are getting generally shorter, but that fact doesnât make you feel as embarrassed, at least.
âYou got a ride?â
The question once again shocks you out of your small trance, and you turn back to him with wide eyes. âWell â no. Wait, I didnât know you had a car. Whyâd you take the subway, then?â
âOh â no, sorry, I⌠donât.â He looks suddenly sheepish, eyes dropping to the shiny surface of the table for a moment before they snap back up, as if heâs actually actively reminding himself to look at you. âI was wondering if you wanted me to â actually, more than that, are you going home already? Not that you need to stay; itâs not that important, butâŚâ
You try to gloss over the fact that he had just been about to initiate another huge step in the right direction (i.e. offering to walk you home) by beaming at him, maybe a little too widely, if only to mask your disappointment at the sudden shift in conversation. âI have nothing waiting at home for me but a sandwich dinner and Singles Inferno, so hit me with whatever it is.â
âOh, cool.â His lips turn up, and the corners shake, this show of happiness once again tamped down by his own inexplicable desire to maintain a safe distance. How are you supposed to tell him youâre desperate to bridge that gap without using those exact words? âI came from the flagship store yesterday â the one in Hongdae that I told you about?â He allows the smile to widen slightly when you nod in genuine understanding. âGot the last six boxes of the collection Iâve been trying to finish.â
You whistle appreciatively. âCan I ask you for a loan on my next phone bill? You know, once Iâve upgraded to something pricier.â
âNah â just itching to complete the set,â he laughs. You wonder if heâs been doing that more often because he knows its crippling effect on you, though you doubt heâs that sly. Again, maybe youâre just projecting too much of your own motivations onto him. âThis was probably about two months of saving up combined.â
âNo new Iron Man issues to look out for, then?â Your voice is warm even though it takes on a teasing tone; Markâs hand rubs the back of his neck, and his expression is a little sheepish, but youâre happy that the times he used to go completely quiet, opting only to blush at your attempts to act more familiar with him are pretty much gone now.
âMaybe next month.â You also like that he doesnât really treat his hobbies as secrets, neither out of shame nor snobbishness. He explains these things to you the same way he does the topics you study â with an air of contentedness, like heâs happy someone listens to him without interrupting. On your end, you have no qualms with listening to his voice for hours, wondering when heâll stop using it to greet you when you come through the door and when heâll start saying your name in a way that makes you feel like youâre the only one he sees whenever youâre near. Itâs a win-win situation (sort of). âI was actually debating between this collection and a really rare copy of Spiâ well, never mind that. I just thought â since you were asking me a bit about blind boxes last time. You know, if you wanted to. With⌠me.â
As much as heâs become comfortable talking to you about things that donât involve coffee orders and school, you canât say that you arenât doing your fair share of the work in connecting the dots; the demand for your efforts is exponentially higher in moments like this, when you think heâs trying to ask you something but canât seem to find less-than-eager words to avoid what he thinks might spook you.
Luckily, he augments his fragments with action; reaching into his backpack â which you notice seems to be bulkier than usual â he starts extracting small brown boxes, all with the same design; it seems, for lack of better words, aesthetically gothic, and you reach out to pick one up, turning it over and examining the print on each side with vague interest. Mark starts laying them out on top of each other until thereâs a small, somewhat unstable pyramid in front of him, then shifts his attention fully to you, just as youâre putting the box in your hand atop all the rest.
âIâd love to.â You beam as he does, and thereâs a wondrous relief in his eyes that tells you heâs glad you manage to catch onto his words â or lack, thereof â surprisingly well. âFor as long as you donât blame me for any bad draws.â
âThe contents have already been decided by my own hand â sort of,â he chuckles. âPoint is, I would never do that to you. But I wonât lie; I kind of want to rely on your luck a little more.â
âWhat makes you think Iâd have any of that running through my system?â
âNot sure â beginnerâs luck, maybe? You just kind of look like one of those kinds of people to me â like⌠youâre just made of good things.â
You donât know how to take this compliment; on the one hand, itâs easily one of the sweetest things Mark has ever said to you that doesnât involve anything with actual sugar content. On the other, you know youâre not as lucky as he makes it sound, considering youâre still striking out on getting past the borderline of friendship with him. All you can do is smile, nodding and making to move closer to him by sliding into the next seat.
Itâs hard to ignore the sight of him stiffening; something like surprise mingled with both fear and interest flashes strong across his face, but you donât do anything to acknowledge the slight change in atmosphere, choosing to settle down comfortably and clap your hands. âSo. What are the rules? What can I do, and what canât I?â
âUh.â His throat constricts at the right moment, the syllable getting caught and causing him to clear his throat. You know that this is the nearest youâve ever been to him, the sleeve of your shirt tickling his arm. Upon closer, albeit brief inspection, you note that heâs also rather veiny. That doesnât do your impurity any favors. âNot⌠really rules, or anything like that. Just â these are the ones Iâve been looking for. Not that you can really control it, but in case you were curious about that.â
You squint intently at the scaled-down images he points out. There��s one that looks like a penguin caught in an oil spill; another that seems to be in a polar bear costume, dozing; and â âWhatâs⌠halo? HaloâŚbios?â
âIt just means marine life,â he answers quickly, like the thought means close to nothing to him to know something that obscure. Whoever said that smart is the new sexy wasnât joking. âLike⌠all things that live in the ocean, that kind of thing.â
âAnd you know this because?â
He pauses, looking thoughtful. âIâm not sure. I guess I must have just learned it when I was curious about what it meant some time ago. Isnât that how we all learn things?â
You shake your head incredulously, and he smiles a little apologetically. âYou never cease to amaze me.â Your nail drums against the silhouette of one with a question mark on it. âWhatâs this supposed to be? Can you draw your own figurine, or something?â
âNo.â Heâs clearly amused, but his expressionâs still patronizing enough for you to not feel too bad about saying something idiotic. âItâs a secret design â a money drainer, basically. You could buy a full set of this and still not get it. Some people will open hundreds without any luck, so itâs really rare.â
âYou donât want it?â
âI try not to get too caught up in the secret thing,â he admits. âOtherwiseâŚâ
âNo rare print comic books for the rest of your life, basically?â
He taps his nose, and you both share another laugh. Itâs nice, you think, to have come this far â to be someone Mark can share his interests and thoughts with. You may have been stretching the word to its limit when you first punched your way into his social life and called yourself his friend, but it feels more real now, more natural to think about and say. Even if he still sometimes seems to be hyperaware of the gap between the both of you, thereâs no denying, at least, that itâs been significantly reduced, and this much is a testament to that.
âWell, leave it up to me. Iâll let all of this beginnerâs luck rub off on you,â you announce with overflowing albeit unfounded confidence.
You both decide to open a box each at the same time; Mark suddenly panics and asks you not to unseal the foil bag right away without looking at the card inside first, earning him one slightly alarmed look followed by a burst of laughter at his pained expression when you pretend to rip open the packaging. Comparing pulls, you identify them using the set chart â your luck doesnât seem to be operating at full capacity yet because you can only offer him the card of one that looks like a floppy pigeon, which he responds to with a slightly apologetic grimace before saying heâs already pulled that thrice in the past. He, on the other hand, is turning the card of the polar bear over in his palm, trying not to make you feel bad for your duplicate pull by slipping it under his textbook when your eyes land on it.
The second round isnât much better; both of you manage to pull something heâs already added to his collection, and as youâre ripping the seal to your third box, he pauses and watches you. You think itâs because heâs concerned about the obvious shit luck youâve had thus far and wants to snatch it from you before your negative energy transfigures whateverâs inside into something he doesnât want, and youâre just about to offer the half-opened package to him before he pushes the one on his end to you.
âNo way, Mark.â Your eyes are wide, a palm up to reject it. âIf that turns out to be another dupe by my hand, Iâm literally going to walk into oncoming traffic.â
He has to control his amusement at your words so that it doesnât completely shake his voice into incoherence. âI picked all of these while I was there, so if anything, youâre only riding off my bad luck. Besides, this is your first time doing this. I want you to have fun.â
âBut,â your voice is pained. âYour money.â
âItâs not a big deal. With how few I need to complete them, I was definitely bound to run into more repeats than new ones.â He taps the front of the textbook â or, at least, the part of it not buried under the figurines and sealing tapes yet. âProbability mathematics.â
âI thought we already ended the study part of the day,â you grumble but concede, putting aside the one you half-opened to tear the top of his. Youâre careful when you shake out the foil packaging, making sure to place it upright on the table before extracting the card. Both of your faces fall â yours more than his â when you see itâs a repeat of the polar bear.
âAlmost. It wouldâve been a pretty lucky pull earlier, so itâs technically not bad,â he tries to reassure you, but you childishly feel like youâve been the sole source of his disappointment thus far. âTry the last one.â
Itâs irrational, but youâre suddenly anxious about it. For some reason, youâre worried that this will topple the carefully constructed ladder youâve propped up against Markâs tower of social defense. Even if heâs being genial about your rotten pulls, you donât know how much of it is just resignation to dismay on his part.
You say a small prayer, then fully rip off the seal; you donât even take out the packaged figuring anymore. You just shimmy the card out of the box, turning it over when you notice itâs upside down.
For a moment, your shoulders deflate. Itâs closest to this pastel purple figurine in the middle of the line-up, its stupid puckered lips almost taunting you. He hadnât even mentioned it as something heâs looking for, so you almost feel like this has come to a horrible full circle. But then he grabs the box, checks the list, and looks back at your card again. He looks shell-shocked, and youâre not sure if itâs the strong air conditioning directed towards the two of you or if itâs just his hands, but the image heâs holding is shivering slightly.
You look more closely at it, and something just doesnât feel right. Color palette aside, there are notable differences â different colored lips, a more intricate ear design, and closed eyes. ItâsâŚ
âDream eater,â Markâs voice is hushed, almost reverent, and very, very close to your ear. âItâs the secret one. Youâre⌠incredible.â
âWhat are you talking about,â your words are just as raspy; youâre not sure if youâre actually choked up with emotion or something â over a figurine, you have to remind yourself. âYou picked all of this. I just ripped open the box.â
The hush that falls over the both of you feels very concrete, weighty on your shoulders. His fingers creep towards the foil packet â the only one he actually opens because thereâs no way heâs not keeping it. The shiny purple head gleams under the fluorescent, the glitter around the star and moon designs catching the light as he turns it left to right, like heâs worried itâs a fake. You can tell why people want these things so much; thereâs a thrill in you that lingers, makes you feel warm and alert. Itâs anticipation, despair, excitement, and triumph all in one sitting.
Youâre stroking the smooth curve of the design by the ears lightly when Mark speaks up again and says the most outrageous thing.
âI want you to have it.â
âWhat?â You actually have to pop your ear canal in front of him with your pinky to make sure he knows how ludicrous he sounds. âThis is⌠you said it was crazy rare.â
âYeah. And you pulled it, with your magic. Thatâs like⌠unimaginable luck. Even more than beginnerâs luck.â
âLike I said, I literally just opened the box.â
âNo â you have like⌠the golden touch.â
âPlease,â you hiss, a genuine testiness to your voice. âDo not. I was just here for the ride â the experience, and all.â
âSeriously, take it.â
âAbsolutely notââ
Itâs a chaotic moment of him trying to hand you the figurine and you outright rejecting it, with both your palms working hard to push it back to him. Instead of nudging the plastic back, though, you end up placing the full force of your hands against his fingers.
Thereâs no actual spark when you touch, but your reactions make it feel like there might as well have been; you even lock eyes in startled unison, like you canât believe that just happened, before you pull away quickly, Mark drawing the figuring back to his torso while looking away towards the counter, where a lowerclassman is wiping down the stains. You want to scream at your warped reflection in the window. You barely initiate contact with him, but you imagine that if you ever did, you would prefer to not be saying something as abjectly negative as absolutely not while doing so.
Your mind flails in an attempt to mitigate the issue and water down the embarrassment, and clearly heâs struggling to figure it out too, because he pipes up before you can piece your thoughts together.
âNo, really.â His tone is a lot milder and, consequently, a lot more persuasive this way. âYou should take it. I want you to.â
âItâs not mine. This is your thing â your hobby.â
âThatâs why Iâm giving it to you. I swear â I want you to keep it.â
âWhy?â
He lapses into silence again, but his face is much redder than earlier. His mouth opens in an attempt to say something, but he just manages to uh his way back into a state of quiet, which gives you a chance to speak instead.
âWe can⌠share it,â you suggest. âShared custodyâŚ. ish.â
His eyebrow cocks involuntarily, and his jaw falls again, but all he does in actual response is nod â slowly at first, then with more sureness to the act.
âYeah. We can share it. Iâd⌠like that.â
Youâre glad that the bulk of the awkwardness has fizzled out fairly easily, and when you think about it, this feels like a pretty good course of action; you like that itâs this little link between the two of you now â something you share that no one else can touch.
Mark, you notice, is smiling as well â more to himself than towards you, it seems. His thumb grazes across the face of the figurine, slow across the lips, and youâre once again falling into a pit of nonsense by wondering when heâd do that to you.
âThanks for staying with me, _________,â he finally says, and your heart jolts and melts all at once. âAnd for⌠doing this. For chatting with me. And giving me your luck, and all that. Great way to end the day⌠with you.â
You say no problem, but you instantly regret it when you realize you could have just said it didnât have to end just yet.
â__________? Hello? Come back down to Earth?â
âShut up,â you sigh at the guy seated across you â Seo Youngho, an upperclassman, your Gender Studies classmate, and current project partner, waves in front of your face. You shoo his hand away, which only joins his other one as he throws them in defeat above his head. âStop moving. Be quiet. Donât talk.â
âThatâs the same thing as shut up and be quiet. Whatâs up with you?â He demands. âFifteen minutes ago, you were full of ideas. Now I feel like Iâm talking to a wax figure.â
Youâd been engrossed in your report for the last hour and a half, and the subject matter is admittedly something you enjoy â the role of gender in Twenty-First Century Korean marketing and advertisement, a title Youngho had taken more than ten minutes to type into the Google Docs header because he was pissed off at how the numbers looked like in the fonts he chose. Heâs an enthusiastic classmate and someone youâve come to be friendly with, not only because heâs genuinely approachable but also because he has fits of nosiness and talkativeness at the strangest moments, so a chunk of your relationship is mostly based on social terrorism on his part. You like him well enough most of the time â save for the last fifteen minutes of this hour.
Because Mark had just come in for his shift fifteen minutes ago, and suddenly Youngho is much too noisy for your taste, and his head is honestly way too big to the point that it gets in the way of your opportunities to see Mark behind the counter. You even resent him for choosing a booth instead of your usual table all of a sudden, because your view of the central baristaâs area is much more limited from this angle, especially since the huge espresso machine is in the of your field of vision.
Youâre also (currently and abruptly) mad at Youngho because you remember that heâs the reason youâve had to skip out on a couple of sessions with Mark. Like, it technically isnât his fault that you have a lot of research to do for the literature review section of the paper, nor is it his fault that this is your final requirement that comprises a whopping forty percent of your grade, but like⌠youâll blame him anyway. So youâre much more irritable, and youâve definitely been missing Markâs presence. In fact, you kind of just want to shove Younghoâs balloon head away and call Mark over to sit with you, but youâre not that much of an animal to actually do that.
Probably.
There had been inquisitiveness across Markâs face when heâd come in; his eyes had trailed to the table at which you usually sat, surprised to find two guys hunched over a single phone there instead of the usual you, waiting for him with your eyes bright and your smile wide. Youâd like to think itâs because heâs gotten as used to seeing you as youâre used to waiting to see him â like he just expects you to be there.
You hadnât really known how to call his attention to where you were, especially since Youngho was prattling very matter-of-factly about the academic journal heâd unearthed yesterday and how he thought it would be useful in reshaping the methodology of your paper (whatever). There was a moment in which you briefly considered ordering another cup of coffee just to get in line to talk to him, but your hands were already shaking from the venti youâd had to keep yourself from passing out in front of your partner.
So youâre more than relieved when, half an hour into his shift, Mark finally steps out from behind the huge machine, a mug of water for himself in hand, and turns away from the front of the store to drink it â only for your eyes to lock as he twists his torso in your general direction.
The mug stops just inches from his lips, but you could swear he smiles at you briefly when he recognizes you, so you return the favor. Younghoâs face contorts into abject befuddlement, turning around to see what youâre grinning at.
âOh, you poor sap,â he snorts, finally letting the puzzle pieces fall into place.
âWhat?â Youâre still distracted even if Mark has taken a gulp of water and is now attending to a gaggle of girls still in the throes of discussing what to order.
âWhat what? You gonna spend the rest of the day eyefucking Mark Lee from over here? At least let me get a different table.â
âShut up,â you repeat sullenly, coming back down to his level and finally â albeit reluctantly â meeting his eye (just because Mark isnât looking your way). âWhat were you saying about the sample size?â
âThat itâs much too large to be feasible, a point we closed twenty fucking minutes ago,â he says pointedly. âIs it a thing for baristas or a thing for smart guys?â
âItâs a thing for Mark Lee,â you sigh, following Younghoâs suit and shutting your laptop close. Youâre at least glad heâs not annoyed that youâre delaying work for a crush, or maybe heâs also just equally lazy at this point. âYou ever look at someone and think you would give it all up for a chance to hit that?â
âNo, because this isnât a porn movie, and Iâm clearly not the main character in whateverâs going on in there.â He jabs at your forehead; you swat his hand away again.
âWell, I would.â
He rolls his eyes. âSo do it, dumbass.â He says this so simply, like he canât imagine why youâd be holding yourself back, which is a valid thing to feel, except itâs not really any of his business.
âCanât.â
âBecause?â
âBecause it doesnât fit into my elegant master plan. Also because I want him to ask me out. I just want that victory.â
âOh yeah, there it is.â Youngho leans over, wiggling his fingers at your ears like heâs greeting a next-door neighbor. âHey, delusion. Good to see you. Do you even understand how crazy it is that youâre taking a Gender Studies class while waiting for your dick-in-shining-armor like a damsel in distress?â
âAsshole,â you grumble, violently opening your laptop monitor again. âGet back on Google Drive.â
Thankfully, Youngho complies, and the next two hours pass in relative silence and productivity, with you hammering out a vague references list that he promises to format in your stead so you can âspend more time dreaming about Mark Lee between your legs.â You want to strangle him, but there are far too many people in the cafe for you to get away with it. Also, aforementioned Mark Lee would only be a witness to your criminal record, and while you think thereâs something romantic in killing for love, or whatever, youâre not sure itâd make the best impression on him.
âNext weekâs my birthday,â Youngho announces as he stands to tug on his jacket.
âCongratulations,â you say wryly, peeking over his bulletin board torso to see Mark tugging off his apron and picking up his school bag. Your heart hammers in your chest as he looks over at you briefly, and something like embarrassment passes over his face before he busies himself with neatly folding the fabric. âGo away.â
âUsually people look uncomfortable for not knowing and then start thinking about what gifts to get the celebrant, but I always felt you were kind of a revolutionary.â He snaps his fingers right in front of your eyes, and you look up at him, a little offended. âIâm having a get-together â and by get-together, I mean itâs gonna be a rager. You should come.â
âWhen?â
âNext Thursday.â
âCanât,â you chew on your lip, wondering if Mark is leaving. His movements seem particularly slow, but you wonder if heâs just taking his sweet time because he has nothing better to do. Of course, he would have something better to do if Youngho stopped fucking obscuring you from him and vice versa. âBusy. School⌠whatever.â Not completely untrue. Most of what you do with Mark has to do with school.
âThis moony-eyed thing is just not for you, I fear.â
âAre you going to be here all day?â
âAre you? Why donât you just fucking ask him out, you lunatic?â You canât imagine why he sounds so exasperated. Itâs not like this is his problem â or his business, for that matter. âMaybe if you did, you could fuck him and move on with your life and be an actual contributor to societyâs development.â
âHas anyone ever told you how nosy you are?â
âConstantly.â He brings his palms down on the table, the thud shaking you out of another oncoming stupor. âThink about it. Maybe itâll make you stop making that stupid face.â
âYouâve got a stupid face,â you mumble, sulking as he pinches your cheek as a goodbye before heading out of the shop.
At least you finally get to see Mark in full, glorious view â and you get to watch him come closer, although his stride is somewhat cautious.
âHey.â Even his voice sounds unsure â almost like the way he used to sound earlier in your friendship. âI didnât want to interrupt you and⌠your friend?â
âOh. Well, you wouldnât have been interrupting,â you inform him, completely genuine. âHe was spouting a lot of nonsense.â
âYou guys seemed pretty close.â
âI guess itâs a proximity thing,â you sigh, and Mark raises his eyebrows slightly in question. âWeâre partners.â
âOh.â The way he draws out the syllable is slow. âThat definitely makes sense.â
The silence stretches out between the two of you again, with Mark checking his shoelaces. You almost grab your head; it hadnât occurred to you until now how damaging missing meetings with him would be to your friendship. You feel like youâre slowly being dragged back to square one, and you want to give him an explanation.
âHeâs actually⌠I havenât been able to see you because Iâve been working on something with him.â you offer, trying to answer a question he didnât even ask. âSorry about that. I swear Iâll be back on track tomorrow.â
âNo, no â I completely understand.â He pauses thoughtfully. âThank you⌠for telling me, though. I�� uh, appreciate that.â
âIâd love to see you tomorrow, though.â You try injecting more pep into your voice. âIâve really been behind on my algebra. Iâve definitely been drowning without you.â
âOh, yeah.â A small smile graces his lips, but you canât tell if the reluctance behind it is from fatigue or something that looks oddly like sadness. âIâm down for tomorrow. Same time, same table, right?â
âYeah, for sure.â
âCool. See you, _________.â
You watch him turn on his heel, walking to the front door, and something like fear mingled with desperation clutches your heart. Fuck the traditional route, you think. You donât know what it is about how heâs acting now, but itâs making you feel like heâs slipping through your fingers. All that hard work â thereâs no way youâre letting him go.
âMark, wait.â
Youâre at his side, fingers curled into the sleeve of his jacket before you can figure out exactly what you want to say. You feel as surprised as he looks at your sudden liveliness in action, and his gaze trails from your clenched fist to your face slowly, like heâs trying to memorize this whole position.
Your exhaleâs shaky, but even still, you try not to sound overtly self-conscious when you ask, âDo you like Chinese food?â
Something in the furrowing of his brows tells you he canât seem to see where this conversation is headed, and that slightly bothers him. âI like it well enough. Why?â
âThereâs this really good dim sum buffet near my momâs office. We tried it before â the Xiaolongbao is awesome.â
âHey, that sounds pretty cool. I love Xiaolongbao. Iâll definitely have to check it out then.â
You want to tear your hair out. âHow about â you know, checking it out with me? Tonight? You know⌠together. With me.â You already fucking said that.
Youâve never seen Mark blink this rapidly; he looks like heâs trying to crunch large numbers in his head. A small part of you actually worries that heâs malfunctioning, but just when you think heâs going to glitch out completely, he clears his throat. It bothers you how uncomfortable he looks. âTonight? Oh man⌠itâs my cousinâs birthday tonight. I canât⌠reschedule. Well, obviously. Maybe some other⌠time?â
Your âoh, yeahâ is small, and so is the ghost of Markâs smile. You canât help but feel like heâs pitying you a little, although he doesnât seem like the type, but the thought of it alone makes you want to puke. He makes no motion to move, and you think heâs extending this awkward moment out on purpose until you realize youâre still hanging onto him and he has no way of telling you to let go nicely.
Fingers unfurling from his sleeve, you take a careful step back, but when he walks away, it feels like youâve gone much, much further away.
The worst part is that you canât even figure out why.
Luckily, the next few times you see Mark, you manage to rebuild a rather shaky bridge back to where you had been. You even manage to strong-arm him into sharing an apple fritter one afternoon, and you know itâs a bit sad to think about it a particular, untrue way, but you canât help but pattern what youâre doing into some kind of pseudo-date. Pathetic isnât a word you normally associate yourself with, but youâve been borderline desperate for progress where there seems to be none, so you take small victories where you can get them.
Unfortunately, you havenât been able to revisit your stupid dim sum plan; sometimes, he says he has somewhere important to be, but most of the time, itâs actually your fault. No â itâs Younghoâs fault, because he keeps bothering you to finish the project. Youâre aware that he canât do it himself, but since heâs informed of your current plight, he could at least stand to be more sympathetic.
And you hate the way Mark looks every time you splutter out that you have to take a rain check for that reason; itâs not even disappointment, or something, which would be much more understandable. Itâs this mysterious kind of faraway look, where his eyes glaze over a bit and he seems suddenly very lost in thought â or completely dissociated. He never strays away from his normal response of ânext time, then,â but that ânext timeâ fades into the weekend and into the start of next week, and you have to spend every other evening with an annoying Seo fucking Youngho on a Google Meets call instead of eating soup dumplings loveshot style with Mark Lee.
Thursday night rolls around, and the former performs the most irritating stunt yet: blowing up your phone with so many KakaoTalk messages that it almost buzzes off the table during your session with Mark. Luckily, he seems to have learned a thing or two from his comic books, catching it before it hits the floor.
âYou sure you donât want to answer it?â He asks, gingerly handing the phone to you like heâs afraid itâs going to explode from all the pinging.
âWithout the shadow of a doubt,â you sigh, flipping the screen downwards. Buzz.
âIt kind of seems important. Or, like⌠urgent.â
âHeâll live. Unfortunately.â
Mark falls silent, fiddling with the page heâs on. Heâs neatly highlighted the formulas on the page with blue ink, and his finger keeps scratching at the slightly wet paper. Buzz.
âDidnât you say you two were partners?â
âYes. Also unfortunately.â Youngho is actually a great person, but you kind of hate how Markâs paying more attention to his texts than to you right now. âWhat did you get for number ten?â Buzz.
âA hundred and tweâ are you really just going to let it keep ringing like that? What if heâs⌠I donât know. In trouble? Like, he needs you?â
You smack your phone on its back, hoping that the punishment reaches Youngho because he absolutely is in trouble â only with you. âHeâs just making a racket because itâs his birthday and he probably wants a bunch of people to trash his parentsâ house, or something.â
âSounds like fun.â The dubious tone in Markâs voice indicates that his idea of fun definitely isnât that. Buzz.
âNot really, but I assume heâll only pipe down if he manages to get his way.â
âHe must really want you there.â
There it is again â that weird, distant expression that makes you feel like heâs trying to free himself from the tethers of the earth. You close your textbook in defeat; it wasnât even like you got the answer to number ten correct anyway. Buzz.
âHe just wants everyone there, I bet. But I probably should show up so he shuts up.â
âOh â yeah, okay. Weâll call it a day, then?â Heâs avoiding your eye as he starts packing his things, which is actually impressive because you have practically nothing but your book to keep in comparison to his pencils and protractor, so you just stare, willing him to look at you.
You want to know whatâs going on in his head. You want to know whatâs going on in his heart â what he thinks of you, why he seems warm one second then almost like a stranger the next. You want to know if he knows you like him and if him not doing anything even if he knows is a sign that he doesnât like you back. You want to know if heâd let you kiss him, if heâd kiss you first, if you can meet not because of sweet cream cold brews or algebra but because you just want to be together.
You just donât know how to ask. For as much as you like him, for as much as you want him, you havenât figured out the most basic part of this â if you mean anything more than a two hour talk to him at all.
âMark.â This feels awfully like the dim sum conversation, only somehow ten times more disastrous. âCome with me.â
âSorry?â The appalled look on his face makes you squirm in your seat.
âI donât really want to go, but maybe if we go together⌠we can just hang out a bit and leave once itâs boring⌠I think itâd be fun,â you explain lamely, deciding at the last second to drop the with you that had originally come with your sentiment.
âI donât think your⌠partner will like someone uninvited showing up.â
âIâm inviting you.â
âIâm pretty sure thatâs not how it works.â
âYouâd be, like, my saving grace or something â my excuse to scram. Weâll say we came right from a study session; we only popped in halfway through for the sake of greeting him a happy birthday. Then we can just go. We can say â uh, weâve got more work to do.â Youâre practically begging him at this point, and you donât even get why. You just donât want him to leave looking the way he does â confused and a little detached. You want the Mark that had smiled at you while giving you your coffee â the one that had kindly pointed out an arithmetic mistake in the most gentle way possible. You want to open blind boxes with him, whine about your rotten luck, and part ways with his warmth still against your coat sleeve.
You donât know what comes over you then, but you pluck up the courage and initiative to slip your hand in his. He stiffens a little, but you donât care; your fingers squeeze his in urging.
Something in his expression breaks â cracks first, then falls away, before heâs nodding, still looking vaguely thoughtful.
âIf you think itâll help you, then⌠okay.â
The bus ride to Younghoâs neighborhood is uneventful because itâs quiet. You stand close to Mark at all times, but you barely touch, save for the times your knuckles accidentally brush his when you lurch forward slightly as the vehicle comes to a dangerously abrupt stop. He doesnât ask anything about the party or the company thatâll populate it, which is just as well, because you donât have a clue.
You know itâs the right house because the doorâs wide open and thereâs music coming from inside; you canât make out much more than the deep bass pumping through the concrete, but youâre pretty sure itâs making your heart jump in your chest even more than it already is. There are quite a few people you vaguely recognize on the lawn, and even more that you absolutely donât; a good number of them glance at you and Mark as you step through the threshold then look away, probably deciding youâre of no real consequence or harm to their moods.
Younghoâs easily spottable because of his massive height; he towers over the rest of his guests, and the red plastic cup in his hand calls even more attention because heâs lifted it over everyone elseâs heads. You throw Mark an apologetic glance that he responds to with a short nod before you dive into the crowd alone, trying to weave your way to where youâd last seen Youngho.
âBro, finally!â Youngho greets you, pretty much shouting over the music. âWhereâs the gift? Did you leave it on the table?â
âHappy birthday, Youngho. Do you know how close you were to being blocked?â
âI see you brought mister espresso with you,â he ignores your comment completely, nodding to Mark. When you turn back to see him, you notice heâs squishing his arms closer to his sides, trying to minimize the space he takes up. âSo what? Yâall get to hook up already?â
âNo. I brought him here because we were in the middle of something and someone,â you stop, offering him a pointed look thatâs also ignored. âWouldnât stop texting.â
âCockblock,â the guy next to Youngho, who you now realize has been eavesdropping, singsongs. âOh, sorry. You looked angry when you stomped through the crowd, so I wanted the juicy details. Nameâs Jaehyun.â
You take the hand he offers you briefly, introducing yourself. When you say your name, realization dawns on his face, and he jabs his forefinger at you.
âOh, dude. Youâre that girl â the Starbucks Showstopper.â
âThe what?â
âThatâs what his friends call you.â He scratches his ear, seemingly racking his brain for more information. âIâm with Mark and a couple of his friends â Lee Donghyuck and Na Jaemin â in College Algebra.â
You completely gloss over the fact that youâve finally found out the real government identity of the mysterious figure named âHyuck.â âThey⌠talk about me?â
âFrom time to time. Not really. Once or twice. Donghyuck only calls you that because Mark apparently keeps blowing them off to hang out with you.â
âHow do you know this?â
âI have ears. Itâs not hard when they talk like no oneâs around.â
You shush Younghoâs exclamation of and youâre saying Iâm nosy?, your heart hammering hard in your ears, practically drowning out the music. âWhat⌠what else did they talk about?â
âNot sure. Something about not seeing you that often these days. Jaemin teasing Mark about getting dropped now that you donât need his help anymore. Donghyuck piling on and saying youâve got a boyfriend.â
âWhat?â
âDonât shoot the messenger.â Jaehyun still inches away from you when your voice rises in pitch and decibel. Some people around you start, then move away as well, as if scared youâre going to incinerate them. âThey were just teasing him that you probably ditched him after you started dating someone. Your partner in some project, or what.â
âOh gross.â The realization hits you like a speeding truck. Younghoâs expression is affronted.
âFirst of all, you bitch. Second of all, as if I would date someone who didnât even buy me a gift. Or want to come. Or yelled at me after coming. Wow â now that I think about it, youâre terrible, _________.â
âOh, shit; that someone was you?â The only person that isnât tense in this conversation is Jaehyun, who laughs point blank at Younghoâs sour face. âI think they were offering to put you into one of their Death Note notebooks. Sucks for you, hotshot.â
âWhat a smudge on my good name,â Youngho sighs mournfully. âOn my special day, too.â
âI desperately need you two to be quiet for one second. I have to â whereâs Mark?â
Even when you stand on your tiptoes, youâre not nearly as tall as the two of them; itâs Youngho, with his freakish height, who manages to spot Mark by the bowl of nachos, looking as though heâs trying to decide if theyâre safe for consumption. You hardly excuse yourself; actually, all you say is a distracted âlaterâ that dismisses Jaehyunâs cooing that somethingâs going down and you should clue him into all the mess later as a thank you. Your appreciation of his sudden and somewhat short-lived presence in your life is still up in the air.
Markâs busy making a sour face at the sip of punch heâd just taken; he only straightens up when youâre right in front of him, putting his cup down next to the nachos. âHey. Did you get to find⌠umâŚâ
âThatâs not important.â Your hand bunches the fabric of his jacket in a death grip, something he barely has time to register, let alone question, before youâre tugging him through the throng of people. You want somewhere quiet, somewhere private, and you initially consider the lawn, except you know itâs strewn with cups and has stragglers debating whether to go home or not. You canât risk any of them being expert eavesdroppers like Jaehyun, so you make a beeline for the stairs instead.
âWeâre not leaving yet?â He has to shout over the music, but thereâs no resistance in his stride; he follows you up and waits patiently, although a little perplexed, as you check the doors on the second floor. Two are locked, one is a bathroom, and the other is a messy, musk aftershave-scented place you can only presume is Younghoâs room. Talking in front of a sink and a toilet doesnât feel like itâll be very productive, so you just drag Mark into the bedroom, kicking aside the crumpled shirt on the floor â which you couldâve sworn youâd seen Youngho wear for class yesterday. â_________, whatâs going on?â
âMark Lee,â you burst out, ignoring the fact that his eyes widen slightly at your tone. âWhatâs your fucking deal?â
You donât think youâve ever sworn in front of him before; that much is evident when he continues to gawk silently, unable to find words to respond to your question. Or maybe itâs just the volume and force with which you demand an answer. The problem is that you donât even know what kind of reply you want. A small part of you nags that this is uncalled for, especially at this level, with you practically caging him into an unknown room. In fact, even now, youâre still embarrassed at your behavior, wondering if youâve gone too far and stepped over a line between you.
But the source of all your frustrations is, in fact, that line â one so strangely drawn, clear at some points and almost invisible at others. Sometimes, he seems simply content with the barest minimum of friendship: talking to you, helping you, politely laughing at your (terrible) jokes. But there are also times he blushes too hard for it to not mean anything, times that he makes you feel like you could mean a little something more to him too.
Yet, from there, he wavers, stepping back so as not to get entangled in something you donât understand â like when he grows distant every time you mention Youngho to him. You donât understand why he would unless he echoed, even just a little, the longing in you. But you also donât get why he stays and builds more walls around himself, like heâs determined to ignore all the other signs â like he doesnât want to know if itâs really true and will just accept the assumption that it is. You hate not knowing where you stand with him, and while you could easily ask, you know you donât want to.
And for a long time, youâve convinced yourself that itâs because you want to see Mark step out of his comfort zone and initiate something, but the ugly truth is staring at you: itâs simply just that you canât stand the idea of seeing him come to the conclusion that you canât be anything more to him than someone he makes a sweet cream cold brew for every so often.
Thereâs a moment of tense silence between you two, where youâre just staring at each other â him, perplexed, and you, agitated â and the only sound that passes is the faint but unmistakable voice of Youngho going who has the cake cutting knife? from somewhere down below. You try not to get caught up in the fact that Mark still looks cute when heâs dumbfounded.
âSorry?â
âWhat,â you repeat pointedly. âIs your deal? Why have you been acting so weirdly around me these days? I thought â I thought we were⌠getting closer. I thought⌠weâŚâ
Youâve confirmed it now; youâre the epitome of cowardliness. You canât even say I thought we liked each other â because you know that you do, but you still canât honestly, assuredly tell if he does. Maybe you just read too deeply into the smallest things â smiles before he asks for your order, glances at you when he thinks youâre not looking, sharing the dream eater figurine â to fuel your own emotions without really checking the depth of his.
âI thought we were cool,â you reroute your words, and they come out flat and lame. âBut just when I think youâre warming up to me, you suddenly pull away. Like⌠youâre afraid of me. Or you donât like me. I donât know.â
âItâs not â I donât â Iâm not afraid of you,â he stumbles over his words, and even in the darkness of this space, you see his face turn bright red, very quickly. His feet shuffle, not because heâs lost his balance but because he seems to want to get rid of a sudden restlessness. âI do like you. We are â we were getting â weâre close. We â weâre friends. You said that, and we are.â
âIs it only because I say we are that you agree?â
âWhat? No, Iââ His hand passes over his face, slowing at the curve of his chin. âI really like being friends with you. I like being around you.â
âThen why do you act so weird these days? Like â youâll be fine one moment, then youâll back off, like you suddenly remembered you donât want to be around me.â
âItâs not like that. Iâm â I donât getâŚâ He takes a deep inhale, recalibrating himself for a moment before his voice comes out again, less strained this time. âI just donât want you to feel uncomfortable around me.â
âHow could I?â Thereâs something more than confusion coloring your voice; thereâs hurt, too, and he looks as surprised as you feel at hearing it. âI wanted to be your friend. I was the one that asked you to hang out. I was the one who wanted you to talk to me, to help me, to go to a goddamn dim sum place with me. Why would I feel uncomfortable? Or are you just using this as some roundabout way to say you feel uncomfortable?â
Mark falls silent, and you donât know why this speaks volumes all of a sudden. His eyes are trained to the tips of his sneakers, which are rising in soft bumps every few seconds; heâs curling his toes inside them. You feel like youâve gotten the worst answer possible, and something grows cold in your chest.
âYou feel uncomfortable around me.â You rehash, but itâs no longer a question. âYou donât know how to get rid of me.â
âNo, itâs not that.â
âYou think Iâm only using you.â
âNo.â
âThen what?â Your voice breaks, no longer out of anger, but a desperate sadness. The moment your eyes feel hot and prickly, you decide you want to end the conversation. Itâs embarrassing, you think, for someone like Mark Lee â whom you like, who only ever sees you as a friend â to see you get choked up at a fucking birthday party at someone elseâs house.
A beat later, youâre mumbling a half-hearted forget it, and you detest overdramatics, but you hate the idea of being in a room with someone whoâll never return your feelings even more right now; you push past him, already on the thought of calling a cab home instead of taking the bus so that no half-drunk businessmen coming from their company dinners see you crying.
But something warm wraps around your wrist, then closes over your hand, and youâre unable to move, Markâs palm pressed against the back of yours. When you look back, you notice heâs still not looking at you, but his ears are practically on fire with how red they are, and you feel his fingers tighten slightly, tremble slightly against yours.
âItâs not that. I didnât ever want you to think â I heard about you two. That you were dating someone. Seo Youngho.â
âWhat does that matter?â Your words come out a little more bitterly than you expect, and you have to remind yourself to reel it in. âThat doesnât explain your discomfort.â
âI didnât want to make you uncomfortable,â he repeats, still evidently careful in choosing his words. âBecause you wanted to be friends.â
âI donât understand,â you state bluntly. In the back of your mind, you note that Markâs grip keeps tightening and loosening, unsure of whether to keep holding on or let go. But thereâs something else, too â the soft graze of skin against yours, his thumb gliding over your knuckles.
âThat was all you said you wanted to be, right?â He waits for a response, but when you donât give him one, he lets out a shaky breath and continues. âYou kept saying â we were friends. You wanted us to be close like that. I just wanted to respect it, even ifâŚâ
âRespect what?â
âThat you didnât want⌠anything else.â
The music downstairs is a bit tamer now; you hear the door opening and closing every so often, signaling guests leaving here and there, but there are still enough footsteps downstairs for you to know that thereâs a crowd Youngho hasnât gotten rid of and therefore has to attend to. That much is good; youâd get slapped with a homicide charge if he came up here all of a sudden.
âYou were jealous.â
Markâs fingers pinch the bridge of his nose for a moment. âI tried to stop. I donât have a lot of practice with â well, I didnât know how to approach the situation. I thought I was still acting normally; I didnât think⌠I didnât want you to feel weird and stop hanging out with me just because⌠I couldnât fix it.â
âYour friends are assholes,â you mumble, and he finally meets your eye, equal parts startled and amused. âWe arenât. Werenât. We never were dating.â
âEven without that, I thought⌠it was a bit embarrassing. Liking someone like you â someone as pretty as you, as nice as you â I thought it would make you feel weird. Then youâd start avoiding me too. Or, worse, youâd keep doing it just because⌠you⌠felt bad for me.â
You donât know what you find more ridiculous â that you hadnât seen figured it out or that you could have avoided all of this if youâd just been a little more honest with him too. Markâs hand starts loosening around yours, a little too much, and you turn your palm and grip his hand before he can escape. He stiffens again, just like earlier, but you now understand better why he does.
âI just wanted to keep hanging out with you as much as I could. I thought⌠Itâd be fine, just spending time with you, and Iâd be able to like you for a while, on my own, thenâŚâ He looks a little pained. âThen just let you go. Iâm sorry.â
âSorry you couldnât let go?â You sigh softly, your palm guiding his until they connect, face to face, and you can finally lace your fingers into his. Thereâs no resistance, but his hand trembles slightly in yours still. âIf thereâs anything you should be apologizing for, itâs that you ever thought of doing it.â
Something clears in the air, lightens in his expression, and he chuckles, albeit a little shyly still. âItâs because I never thought someone like you would like someone like me.â
âI like you.â And it feels right to say it now, not at all out of the blue, never in fear of an answer heâs already given. âI like you when you smile at me every time you ask for my order. I like that you never get impatient when Iâm getting my answers wrong. I like seeing you excited when you talk about a new series youâre looking forward to â something new you really want to collect. When you blush, when you laugh loudly, when you spin your pen in your hand â I like you in all those times.â
âEven when Iâm jealous?â
âEspecially when you are.â Your free hand comes up to cup his jaw, and youâre reminded of the fact that youâve wanted to feel the strength of the angle under your palm for ages now. Itâs not at all a disappointment, and your heart flutters irregularly in knowing you couldâve done this a long time ago, but it doesnât matter because youâre doing it now, and fuck if Mark Lee doesnât look good this close to you. âSo be jealous â because now, you know you can be.â
Kissing him is better than you imagined, and youâve imagined a little too much to be embarrassed at this point; thereâs a heat to his lips that matches the one across his face, an upturn to them that makes you smile too. The settingâs not at all an expected one, but youâll take it, not because itâs dark or because itâs private but because Markâs in here with you, and you would have kissed him in a brightly lit football field full of people for as long as heâd let you.
Youâd like to think heâs flushed for a reason other than shyness when you pull away, even if his laugh is quiet and breathy. In fact, when you murmur not enough, heâs the one that closes the gap this time, offering freely what you ask for with such little eloquence. The natural trepidation in his mouth relaxes, gives way to a curiosity that keeps you locked for so long that you forget you need to breathe, much more intent on finding out if Markâs tongue tastes as good as youâve imagined for so long.
It doesnât; it tastes even better.
Itâs still not enough, not by a long shot, but you have to resurface before you pass out like this, and even he looks a little dazed when you pull away â not in a bad way, with a grin on his face that you can only classify as endearingly goofy: slightly lopsided and a little shy, but with an unmistakable air of satisfaction.
âMonths,â he mumbles, his lips still dangerously close to yours. Your eyebrows rise in questioning, and he laughs in that infectious way that makes you want to join in without even knowing what the punchline is. âIâve been thinking of kissing you for months.â
And you do share the laughter this time, not out of amusement but of a happiness that spills without restraint. âBut youâre suddenly holding back now?â
âJust letting myself bask in the moment, I guess. Letting it sink in so I remember everything.â
The two of you stand there quietly, still trying to fully parse the progression of events, and a small part of your mind registers that Markâs thumb is still drawing circles on your skin. Itâs also not enough â this touch, this closeness. You know now that heâs been thinking of you for months, and it reminds you that you spent that time dreaming of him too. And you remember youâve always wanted to be even more familiar with him, and suddenly the desire is overwhelming; heâs right here, and you donât ever want him out of your grasp again.
âWhere are you going?â Heâs only curious for the sake of it; thereâs no alarm in the question because you keep your fingers tightly woven in his, tugging him along as you walk past him to the door. Heâs still staring in wonder after the lock clicks shut. âWhatâs⌠happening now?â
âYou waited months to kiss me, right?â He nods in response at your question. âIâve been waiting just as long to have you too.â
His mouth falls open, but he doesnât manage to say anything; his jaw tightens just as quickly when he feels your free hand trail down his chest, feather-light and asking for a green light. Your index finger stops just above his navel and draws back slowly, but not before you feel the shiver that runs down his torso.
âWe donât have to if you donât want to,â you murmur, giving his hand a little squeeze. âBut I just want you to know â I want to. I want you.â
A thoughtfulness settles on his face, and his eyes graze over yours, trying to read your seriousness. You donât know how honest you look, but your words hold enough truth in them. A silence stretches over the next minute, but to you, it feels like an eternity, and you lose the test of patience somewhat, smiling softly at him.
âYou donât want to?â
âIââ His tongue peeks out, running over his bottom lip. âI do. Itâs not that I donât want to, butâŚâ
âYou seem worried.â
A hesitant nod. âIâve never â well, no, I have, but not â with someone like you.â
âWhatâs someone like me?â You laugh airily.
âSomeone pretty like you â I donât know. Someone who seems to know exactly what they want. Someone who seems like⌠they could do better than me.â
âMark.â You canât keep the incredulity out of your voice. âI do know exactly what I want. I want you. The rest â I donât care about. As long as itâs you, I want it.â
He cracks a smile, half of relief, half of disbelief. You donât miss his hand coming up to press, warm, against your waist. âFor real?â
Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt â an anchor to bring you closer, until the tips of your noses are brushing. âFor real.â
The third time you kiss is slow, almost careful; thereâs lingering worry in the line of his mouth that your lips try to ease until his slightly part under the movements of yours. You feel the tension leave his form in waves â first in his shoulders, then in his arms, until youâre able to press yourself closer and feel the slight give of his frame against your smaller one. Heâs radiating an immense amount of body heat thatâs pricking your skin and keeping you alert, and youâre hyperaware of the smallest things â the weak tremble in his mouth, the slight roughness of his teeth under your tongue, the ridges of his palate above it.
He tastes nothing like what he smells, you learn. Instead of the air of earthy coffee stuck to clean linen, you inhale a combination of spearmint and mild saltiness thatâs made slightly sharper by the lingering splash of alcohol from his accidental sip of punch earlier. You decide then and there that this disparity is important to you; it makes you feel like youâre the only one who can have this experience â that everyone else can know his scent, but now, only you can know what Mark Lee tastes like.
You have to keep your wits about you to avoid this addictive stimulation of your senses; you let go of his hand only to lock your fingers around his neck, and thereâs a show of trust in how he lets you lead him backwards, until his knees are hitting the edge of the unmade bed. The kiss breaks as heâs forced to settle on the mattress, and he looks up at you in what can only be described as a quiet kind of awe. He doesnât complain when you place your hands, heavy, on his shoulders, using his sturdy form to keep you stable as you move to straddle his lap.
âI feel like,â his voice is hoarse as he speaks up. âWe should have picked a different location. Someone⌠could walk in.â
âI locked the door,â you remind him, a light reassurance in your voice. He doesnât say anything immediately, but itâs clear there are cogs turning in his head, and you think itâs unfair that heâs thinking way too hard about something else that isnât you, right now, in this position. In a bid to rectify this, your face presses into the side of his neck, breathing in that familiar scent and leaving a light kiss on his skin right after. Your lips mark the moment he swallows hard at the contact. âBesides, would you really be that unhappy if someone did?â
His hands tighten against your waist, prompting you to leave another kiss against his collarbone. âWhat â what do you mean?â
âYou wouldnât like it if someone â say, Youngho â walked in to see me on your lap like this?â
The silence that follows your words is tense, and you can tell that Markâs breathing has become shallower. Again, you can feel his throat constricting slightly, and you canât help but laugh breathily as you nip at his skin, just under his Adamâs apple. Heâs surprisingly easy to tease, you realize â quick to turn speechless and prone to hanging onto your words.
To say that you wouldnât want to use that to your advantage would be a downright lie.
âTell me,â you urge, your tone deceptively gentle. âYou wouldnât want him to see you kissing me like this? To see me wrapped around you, begging for more, saying your name over and over? You donât want him to watch you take me â so he knows youâre the only one that can?â
A strangled groan punctuates your words, but it comes from him; his fingers dig hard into your side with barely constructed restraint. âWhat do you want from me, _________?â
âI want to know if kissing me was the only thing you wanted for months.â
You pull your head away, nudging his chin with the tip of your nose. Another groan escapes him, and his head tilts back slightly, almost like heâs praying. But when his gaze comes down to meet yours at your level again, you see a firm resolution in his eyes that stirs your heart â which takes off the moment he shakes his head, slowly but surely.
âThen,â you whisper. âWhat do you want from me?â
He doesnât say so much as shows; he takes from you your breath, steals another kiss thatâs now firmer and more openly demanding. Suddenly, his mouth canât seem to stay still, trapping your lower lip in between his, drawing out your taste until it mixes with his against his teeth. You feel your head growing light again, and youâre pleasantly surprised that itâs suddenly become difficult to keep up with his lips, asking more from you without restraint. A hum of need sounds in the back of his throat, vaguely dissatisfied, and heâs telling you wordlessly that it isnât enough right before he attaches his lips to the base of your neck, just above your collar. You think heâs just about to return the favor, but a laugh leaves you when you realize heâs taken it a step further, his teeth grazing your skin lightly, soft nips signaling how eager he is to sink his teeth in with only his slowly weakening self-control stopping him from doing it. Markâs breathing is slightly labored when he pulls his lips away, warm breath fanning over your chest.
âItâs crazy â and stupid,â he croaks out, voice slightly raspy. âBut I want it, and I donât.â
âWhat do you mean?â Your fingers drag into his hair, combing it upward messily from his nape. He leans in for a quick kiss thatâs somewhat misplaced, landing on the corner of your mouth instead of squarely atop it.
âI want them â him to see us. To see me with you, kissing you â fucking you, too. I want everyone to know weâre like this.â
Youâve never heard Mark say anything so forwardly before; a sweet, warm flush builds in your face, pleased at how comfortably he manages to say it â pleased that heâs saying it to you. âThen whatâs the problem?â
âI donât want him to see you.â Thereâs a bluntness to his words, but hiding behind them is an undertone of pleading â a serious request. âI donât want him to see how pretty you look. I donât want him to see you when youâre bare, or how you look when Iâm inside you. I donât want him to seeââ
His voice wavers and dies, and you wonder if heâs embarrassed, but when you read his expression, you see an unyielding longing. A smile tugs at your lips, and your hand comes around to cup his chin, thumb extending upwards to drag his lower lip down.
âYou donât want him to see whatâs only yours.â
He swallows hard again, but he doesnât wait long to nod. Understanding passes between the both of you, silently but completely, and Mark presses his face to your throat, feeling the hum resonate as he places another long, firm kiss there.
âYouâre mine,â he whispers, in a way that almost feels like he wants to convince himself of something impossible to believe. He doesnât even wait for your affirmation, prefers to read it in the way you shiver lightly once his lips travel further down. His kisses trail past the collar of your shirt, and his hands are unabashed in how they seek skin, pushing the fabric upward so he can settle the palms of his hands, warm against your waist. Oddly, they donât travel upwards; they only brush against the dip, down slightly over the upward rise of your hips, then upwards again, almost soothingly. Itâs almost like he wants his mouth to meet them, but he stops halfway, sidetracked by the curve of your breasts.
He barely pulls away, only does for a moment, enough to meet your eyes.
âYouâre only mine,â he repeats, his voice softer now. You realize heâs still waiting for some confirmation, and when you do, youâre quick to give it to him â quick to erase any doubt.
âIâm yours,â you affirm in the same tone, in the same careful volume. âOnly yours, Mark.â
Whatever else he wanted to ask for, he knows youâve given assent; that much is clear when he buries his face between your tits, inhaling your scent. You briefly wonder if he might feel just as intoxicated around you as you do around him, if your pleasant dizziness in being this close to him, in tasting and smelling him is something he experiences too, but you donât get much time to dwell on it the moment you feel his lips part, a slight wetness seeping through the fabric. Heâs kissing your chest, teeth grazing just above the cup of your bra, nipping without any real objective other than to feel the padâs slight resistance to his mouth.
You almost miss what he says as he shifts his head, lips brushing over the curve of your breast â another breathless âmineâ that isnât ever punctuated; his lips still stay parted, mouthing at the cloth, like heâs desperate to feel whatâs underneath through it. Thereâs pressure where his tongue presses flush against the shape of your tit, tightness whenever he chooses to nip, attempting to take the flesh and all thatâs between you and him between his teeth.
Not enough, you think, even when a whimper of need bubbles out of you; you want to be closer, your thighs pressing against the sides of his. Youâre close in almost every way, but you still inch yourself further forward, enough to feel the taut hardness in his jeans. Your hips settle right there, letting fabric ride against fabric as you center yourself.
No sooner do you press yourself flush against him do you gasp; the light sting sends a jolt up your spine when his teeth close around your nipple through your bra, and when you look down at him, you see the corners of his mouth pulled up in evident satisfaction. Heâs quick to atone, his tongue dragging your shirt slightly upwards in his attempt to soothe, and for some reason, the push of fabric and the barely-there feeling of motion leaves you tingling.
âMark.â Your voice comes out in a whine, but in the haze youâre in, you donât really have a clear idea of what youâre asking for. All you know is that you want more of him, and for as much as heâs already given you in kisses and words, you arenât even halfway down the list of everything else you wish you could demand from him. You say the only thing that comes to mind â the only thing that really encompasses what you feel. âMark, I want you. I want more of you.â
His hands on your waist are replaced by the significant tightness of his arms, locked around your torso; you donât even have the time to take in your awe at the fact that he can easily carry you, turn you over until youâre on your back, until heâs already eased one knee between your legs.
The way he looks down at you is a mixture of hesitation and desire, but the formerâs erased when you reach out for him, murmuring another âmoreâ so you can pull him in. With one palm pressed against the mattress, he lets his free hand graze against your side again, bolder in its movements, and his fingers trace a path up to your breast, squeezing the soft flesh through layers. Your back arches upwards in response, eager for more contact, for touch thatâs almost there but not quite, and he smiles when you make a noise of frustration from his fingers tweaking the soft nub of your nipple.
âMark, pleaseââ
âWould you really let him see you like this?â His thumbâs still idly grazing over your breast, following the rise and fall of its curve. You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice level despite the growing want that threatens to break through it. âWould you really let him watch you⌠get fucked?â
You shake your head, and his brow furrows.
âIâd let him watch you fuck me,â you correct him, and the confusion in his face gives way to pure satisfaction the moment you make this nuance clear. âIt has to be only you.â
His grip tightens briefly against your breast again, and he leans down, pressing a surprisingly chaste and brief kiss to your lips.
âThen Iâll unlock the door next time and give him a show.â
You donât know if itâs what he says or what he does after â his hands bunching your shirt upward until the hemâs just below your neckline â that makes your breath hitch, but you decide it doesnât matter when you realize youâd much rather be focusing on the journey his lips take, slick against your stomach as he presses languid kisses down to your navel. His fingers hook into the waistband of your jeans, the weight naturally pulling them down, and you see his muscles tighten for a moment as he stops himself from tugging them off completely.
Markâs mouth is unparalleled in its attentiveness, seemingly intent on making sure heâs covered every inch of your stomach in warm kisses, but you only realize heâs somehow stalling when he starts the cycle again, his nails digging into the taut elastic of your jeans as though to remind himself to curb his desire.
You take the initiative instead, raising your hips slightly to signal your want, acutely aware of the fact that you brush lightly against his thigh when you do so. His eyes lift first, followed by the rest of his face, and heâs watching you quietly. You might have thought he was unsure of what to do all of a sudden again, but his knee pressing closer, an unmistakable pressure against you, is enough to tell you that heâs only curious to know what else youâll do.
The second time you grind against his thigh, his hands catch your hips, keeping them aloft just long enough for him to tug the band of your jeans downward; he peels them off you with surprising ease, returning to the same position between your legs, hands still firm on your waist. With that done, he only has the thin garter of your panties left to curl his fingers into, bunching it into his fists when you roll your hips up one more time. You manage a shaky noise when you feel the stark difference â the roughness of the denim against you, the stick and drag of flimsy cloth. Mark lets out a low but unmistakable hiss.
âI canât believeââ his idea is cut short by the movement of your hips again, and his grip tightens, knuckles pressing into your skin. âCanât believe youâre here. I canât believe weâre doing this.â
âWhat am I supposed to do,â you breathe out, the sound momentarily getting stuck in your throat. âSo that you know itâs real?â
His fingers relax their hold, palms now pressed against your thighs; they travel between your hips and your knees, a soothing and thoughtful motion. âGod â I donât know. I just want â I just want you so badly. Like⌠Iâm going to go crazy if I donât have you now.â
You lean up, your weight resting on your elbow, and your other hand reaches out; Mark meets you halfway, bending just a little lower to press his cheek against your palm. Thereâs something intimate, something so giving about the way he turns his face to your fingers, pressing a fluttering kiss just under your thumb. The tips of your fingers trace the shape of his lips, even when they pucker again under your digits.
âTake me,â you murmur quietly. âRight now â from now on, every part of me is all for you.â
His exhale is shaky, but his fingers have a sureness to them; they slip under your thighs, cradling the backs of your knees, and lifting until theyâre folded over your chest. You donât even have the time to wonder if you should feel exposed all of a sudden; his breath warms the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips there â not a kiss, just a touch as he speaks.
âI want to taste you,â he mumbles, partly distracted with the act of inhaling the mild scent off of your skin. âEvery inch of you â I want to know just how sweet you are.â
He lets his hold on your thighs relax, letting them fall apart; he busies his hands with your panties instead, hooking a finger into the strip of cloth just covering you. Itâs clear youâre both aware that the fabric sticks light to your skin, poorly masking your wetness, and interest mingled with hunger flashes across his face as he pulls it aside.
âYouâre so pretty,â he says, sounding like itâs a comment more for himself than anything else. His gaze flickers to you for a moment before it moves back to your pussy. âThe prettiest fucking girl in the world.â
The pressure of his thumb between your folds causes you to forget what you wanted to say, and you know Mark had been nervous, but you realize that it doesnât mean heâs supremely inexperienced by any means; thereâs a quiet, understated confidence in the way he rubs slow, thorough circles, moving upward towards your clit. Your face, your neck, your whole torso feels flushed, but you power through the instinct to tilt your head back so that you can keep watching him â the minute changes in his expression, the slowly building strength in his touch.
âI want to taste you,â he repeats, looking up at you. âI want to know what you taste like when you cum against my mouth.â
Youâre not sure if youâre gawking because you can hardly believe Mark Lee â your eternally blushing, mild mannered campus crush â had said all those words strung together into such a lewd sentence, but youâre sure as hell not going to deny him. Your hand travels down your torso, and he watches, curious at first, then awestruck when your index and forefinger settle against either side of your folds, pulling them apart in offering.
His eyes end up transfixed on your pussy again, observing how your fingers ease your folds further apart the more he massages his thumb against your slit. His mouth is slightly agape, intent on drinking in the sight, unaware that youâre trying to memorize this view of him too â Mark Lee, touching you, wanting you, eager to take you fully.
âIâve always wanted to see what itâd look like with your face between my legs,â you say in a hushed tone, but he catches it anyway, briefly looking up at you again. âIâve always wanted to know what your tongue would feel like against my pussy.â
Your index finger bumps against the tip of his thumb, and he stops its motions, allowing you to move his digit down until the pad of it hovers just in front of your tiny hole. You can see one cheek tucked between his teeth, bitten to muffle the groan you wish youâd heard louder.
âWonât you show me?â
You think you hear him rasp out a âfuck yesâ before he bends down, pressing his half-open mouth against your pussy. The squeal of delight that leaves you is half-strangled as his thumb curls, hooking into your entrance. It starts a shallow, distracted motion, with his attention funneled much more clearly into keeping his tongue working. Flush against your slit, it drags up, and he releases a guttural noise at your taste, lips pursing slightly on the way back down â like he canât stand not trapping every drop of wetness with his mouth.
The intensity of his tongue, the idle thrusting of his thumb â youâre not sure what you want to focus on more, and the result is you whimpering incoherently at the starkly contrasting combination of the two. Mark moves his mouth like heâs never tasted anything as good in his life; the sounds between your thighs are wet, sloppy â almost embarrassingly so â but you donât have the presence of mind to dwell on that because Mark Lee is eating you out and thatâs really all that you can think of.
The tip of his tongue suddenly flicks upwards; you keen, long and low, when it starts to circle your clit in that same intense, circular movement his thumb had gotten you used to. Your sensitivity skyrockets, and youâre completely unable to control the upward bucking of your hips, but Mark stays supremely unperturbed, his free arm winding under your thigh to keep the both of you steady. Your noises are growing embarrassingly loud, and you realize just how needy youâve become when you vaguely notice that thereâs a pattern in what youâre saying â his name, over and over again.
âDid you do that too?â He asks softly, his words slightly muffled against you. âSay my name, I mean â when you thought of me.â
âGod, yes.â Your voice comes out strained, teetering on the edge of slurring. âSo many times â every single fucking time.â
âPromise me something.â He lifts his head, and you see a fieriness in his gaze.
You nod â at this rate, whatever heâd ask you to do, you would without question. âAnything.â
His thumb presses in deeper, up to his knuckle and you reflexively tighten around his digit, but he keeps it anchored there, pushing down against your walls. He drinks in your gasp, the widening of your eyes, the way you chew on your lip with a singular kind of contentment on his face.
âPromise me â from now on, youâll make sure Iâm always there to hear it.â
The only kind of assent youâre able to make is a moan as he dives down again, mouth buried in your warmth, his nose pressed tight against your clit. His tongue moves in strong strokes, broad swipes that push your folds apart further, and his thumb, while not moving, increases in pressure to the point that you feel a heaviness adding to the growing pleasure. Your hands fly down, seeking some kind of sense and reason, and you thread your fingers into his hair, grip tightening as your climax builds in stride.
âMark, Iâmââ close, you want to say, embarrassingly so, but the moment he hears his name, his lips attach to your clit, and thereâs suddenly so much more pressure as he sucks, almost like heâs desperate to draw out your orgasm. He chooses this of all time to start moving his thumb again, and this time, his movements are anything but slow and idle; theyâre filled with the intent to drive you over the edge. âFuck me, oh my godââ
âI want to,â he murmurs, pausing for just a moment to drag the tip of his tongue around the nub. âGod, I want to. Let me see you cum first; let me taste how sweet you are.â
His thumb stops, buries deep into your pussy, and youâre not sure why this, of all things, is what pushes you beyond control; youâre only half-sure you say his name when your orgasm hits, the rest of your consciousness much too clouded by pleasure. He doesnât stop, revels in the way you squirm under him as he hums low and keeps his tongue working against your clit. His licks become longer, more thorough as you come down from your high, your cries softening into whimpers as his tongue both attempts to clean you up and makes you messier in the process. His arm is still curled around your thigh, keeping you from inching away from him, even if instinct and stimulation are telling you to.
Youâre barely lucid when you sit up, and Mark inches back, somewhat startled; you grab the front of his shirt, and the sight of his mouth, slick and glistening from your wetness, only makes you more curious to know what you taste like on him. You find out how tangy it is, how rich the two of you are together on his lips, and youâre able to fully appreciate the skill of the mouth that kisses you deeply, leaving traces of you against your tongue and teeth.
âPlease â fuck me.â Itâs the only thing you can say at this rate, only half-coherent and still trembling with desire, but Mark doesnât seem to care that youâre stuttering over such a simple request. His thumb wipes traces of saliva off the corner of your mouth, kisses it clean for good measure, then straightens up, his hands working at his belt. You almost miss the fact that his hands are shaking slightly as he undoes the buckle and tugs it out from the loops.
You want to help â itâs the least you can do, after all, and your fingers push the button of his jeans out through the hole, his hands working in tandem to tug the zipper down. However, your movements falter when you hear a noise from just outside the room â the sound of the doorknob being jangled, the thud of a body gently hitting the door, as though worried itâs stuck. You glance up at Mark, ready to reassure him, but he either hadnât heard or doesnât care because heâs too busy stepping out from the pool of denim at his ankles, and you get completely sidetracked by the bulge straining against his boxers.
You almost ignore Younghoâs voice grumbling âJesus Christ, now of all times? from behind the door, but you leverage it instead.
âShould we let him in?â You ask, tone innocent despite the evident deviousness in your words. It pays off, though; Markâs cock twitches unmistakably under thin fabric, and he actually looks like heâs considering it. âYouâre just about to fuck me, after all. Werenât we going to â what did you say? Put on a show?â
He worries on his bottom lip, like heâs unsure if youâre serious, but in the end, he shakes his head, reaching out to smooth your hair away from your face and ushering you to lay back down. The lips that meet your forehead are gentle, almost apologetic.
âNot now,â he murmurs against your skin. âRight now, youâre all mine.â
You laugh lightly, nodding, and he chuckles too, but the sound of it slowly dies down when your finger hooks into the garter of his boxers. You can feel his breathing hitch as you tug it down, the elastic catching when it meets the shape of his cock, but you donât make any move to free it just yet â for some reason, you want to see him do it.
âShow me.â
He complies without hesitation, one hand dragging the elastic down over his thighs, the other curling around the base of his length, and your face flushes as satisfaction works through your system at the bare sight of him.
Mark Lee is big â not monstrously so, but enough for you to make a pleased noise as your hand joins his, fingers barely wrapping around his girth. You give his shaft a gentle squeeze, and his exhale stutters, watching you stroke him, long and thorough in your movements. Your palm swipes over the tip, leaking precum, allowing it to slick up your hand enough to keep your movements smooth. Youâre fixated on the tension in his lips, the throb of his cock against your palm, and the way his gaze never leaves your face, like a small, amazed part of him still canât believe what youâre doing, even if youâre both half-naked already.
âI want to suck you off,â you plead, grip tightening slightly. He grits his teeth, stifling another groan, but he shakes his head clearly enough for you to slow your movements in mild surprise.
âCanât â not now. I need to be in you so badly.â His breathingâs sharp and heavy, like heâs trying to keep himself in check. âYou donât even know â how long Iâve wanted to feel you.â
Your hold relaxes, and you let him maneuver you, his renewed hold on your hips dragging you closer to the edge of the bed. In this position, he can spread your thighs further, and you angle yourself optimally â enough for him to get a full view of your pussy, wet and still aching from your last orgasm.
âYou donât know how badly Iâve wanted to know how tight you are,â he continues, and thereâs a faraway look in his eyes that makes you think he might be entrenched in fantasy. âHow much I would have killed to see you â have you like this. Iâm not gonna be able to wait anymore.â
His fingers dig into your sides, thumbs stroking your stomach in a weak pattern. The underside of his shaft presses against your folds, still half obscured by your panties, in a way thatâs heavy enough to make you mewl, your hips reacting before your mind can, and he hisses softly as he feels his length glide along your slit before you relax your stance again.
âI canât wait,â he reiterates, a breaking in his voice that sounds almost tortured. You donât want him to either, want to see him buried to the hilt inside you, and you raise your hips again in need. âI want you so much itâs driving me crazy.â
âThen take me.â
And youâre not sure if itâs a demand or a plea, but he no longer stops himself; his hand fists his cock a few times, coating the slick of precum along his length before he lines the tip up with your entrance. His other handâs flush against the inside of your thigh, a light pressure ensuring he always has enough space to fit himself between your legs â enough space to bottom out completely.
Markâs considerate in his pace â maybe he knows heâs big, or maybe heâs just naturally careful, but he allows you the time to adjust to the stretch. Your nails almost puncture holes into the sheets, your grip so tight you wonder if itâs just to brace yourself or to hang onto the last threads of your sanity. Heâs only halfway in, but youâre pushing fullness already, and he stops when his cock meets slight resistance, looking up at you in concern.
âYouâre notâ?â
âIt doesnât hurt,â you reassure him softly, and itâs true; the adjustment brings about slight discomfort, but itâs almost nothing to you â not compared to how much more you want. âGive me everything; I want all of you inside me.â
He pauses still, trying to read your expression for any lies, but when he canât find any, he nods, his jaw tensing as he presses both palms against your thighs, keeping you open as much as possible to accommodate him. He doesnât even stop when you whimper, feeling a tightening twitch in your pussy that also causes him to groan, until inch by inch, youâve taken him, his hips flush against yours.
He doesnât move â not yet, his eyes trained to where youâre connected like heâs once again unable to believe what heâs doing. You hear him mumble something to himself that you want to hear too; you squirm slightly, and he hisses through his teeth, looking up at you and finding the questioning in your face. He offers you a small smile, albeit somewhat strained.
âYouâre tighter than I thought.â
âYouâre bigger than I thought,â you hum, and neither of you is really to blame; the tight fit, the slight breathlessness it leaves you with, is perfect, you think â just what the both of you need. âDid you often think about fucking me?â
âProbably just as often as youâre making it sound like you thought about having me fuck you, I think.â
âDonât get cocky,â you warn, but thereâs no real heat in your voice.
âI wonât. But it makes me feel good â knowing you wanted me just as bad.â
âI still do.â Your gaze is lazy, a little hazy, even if youâre anticipating so much. Even just the feeling of Mark, throbbing inside you, is already slowly building the pleasure in your stomach again; you wonder if you could cum like this, given enough time, given enough patience. âIâm still waiting for you to fuck me. God, Markâ please.â
He chuckles good-naturedly, but even thatâs drowned out by the long moan that leaves you once he draws his hips back; your bodyâs mildly shocked into a new adjustment, feeling a sudden emptiness thatâs quickly mitigated by him filling you back up again. The pace is slow, almost torturous, although you know he isnât doing it to get a rise out of you. He wants to ease you into speed, careful to help you adjust fully; his restraint in his movements is all the more evident on his face, in the furrowing of his brow and the determination in his gaze. Even with that, he canât help what he says, so intent on controlling everything else he does that he lets his words spill out over your noises.
âPretty,â he grunts out, and when your walls twitch around him, he accidentally thrusts sharper â just enough for you to whimper a little more loudly, and he has to reel his strength back again. âGod, youâre beautiful. I shouldâve told you sooner how much I wanted you. All those times I had to imagine you wrapped around me like this, wondering how much tighter youâd get once you came on my cock. All those times you drove me crazy while I was alone, when I could have been in youâ I could have found out how good you felt. How pretty youâd look under me. And youâre still even prettier, even better than I ever dreamed.â
Thereâs an erratic melody of moans under his words, spilling from your mouth, and the fact that he riles himself up enough to increase his speed slightly doesnât escape you. Heâs a little less careful now, seemingly entranced by the view he gets, watching his shaft disappear into you only to come out glistening, and a part of you hates the idea of snapping out of his reverie, but the majority of your thoughts now lean towards wondering how much more you can get him to break free of his own self-imposed restrictions.
âI wanted to ask you so many times.â His eyes snap up, coming back into focus as he takes in the sight of you, flushed, hair tousled, gaze darkened. âAlmost every day â I sat there, thinking about how all I could do was go home and fuck myself, frustrated you werenât doing it for me. I should have taken you home with me right then and there â should have let you watch me touch myself thinking of you, should have let you touch me into cumming on your fingers.â
His breathing staggers as he leans in, eager to see you clearer, to hear your words, slowly becoming airier as they come out. For a moment, his gaze falls, torn between watching him move into you and meeting your eyes, but he ultimately chooses the latter once you speak up again, your tone even more hushed than before â like itâs meant to be a secret between just you and him.
âBut there were times I wanted you even more than that, to the point that I almost felt like I couldnât wait.â His eyes widen slightly, a few precious seconds of wondering if he understands what you mean, right before you confirm what he thinks. âI thought about making a move right then â I should have kissed you. I should have asked you.â
âAsked me what?â His voice is gruff with the effort to keep himself in check despite the fact that itâs clear to the both of you that it wonât last.
Your lazy smileâs illusionary; it hides the triumph swelling in your chest at knowing that he asked exactly what you hoped him to.
âI should have asked you to fuck me in front of everyone there.â
âGod,â his eyes squeeze shut, his grip tightening. âPlease. I canâtââ
âI should have bent over for you there, begged you to stretch me out right after our session,â you continue, bordering on merciless. âMark, you donât know â how badly I wanted to be on your lap, your cock in me, with everyone watching. How much I wanted you to fold me over that table, have people watch you pound me, have them listen to how good you make me feel. No one would ever even wonder; everyone would know Iâm yours.â
You pause, allowing his eyes to fly open once again, and thereâs a pleading in them thatâs begging for release. Your eyes soften along with your voice, but youâre this far gone; you should at least see it through.
âAnd everyone would know youâre mine too.â
âFuck,â he growls, and his hips stutter before new resolve fills him, his hips driving into you with the force of a strength you didnât even know he had in him; your thighs tremble at the intensity, at the renewed impact, and feeling him drive his cock deeper into you has you crying out somewhere between a moan and a sob. âFuck, _________. If I had known youâd thought about me like that â God.â
Itâs your turn to shut your eyes for a while, allowing yourself to focus on his movements, breaching your tightness even faster now. You feel his hands skim up your sides again, fingers digging into the fabric of your bra and pulling them down until your bare tits are cupped in his hands. You shiver as his thumbs pass over your nipples, toying them into firm nubs.
âOne day,â he hums out, his voice giving way to a slight hoarseness again. âIâll do it. Iâll fuck you in front of him â in front of Youngho, in front of everyone. Iâll let them wonder how tight you are, how fucking warm you are, and Iâll let them leave knowing no one can know but me.â
Itâll never happen, you both know, but something about agreeing to something so absurd is what has your body almost shaking in longing, and itâs what causes him to press in deeper, folding your legs closer to your torso. Your hands do what little they can to help, keeping your thighs apart so as not to obstruct his view. You can tell itâs somehow not enough, not really all of what he wants when his brow furrows, and he shifts his weight, pushing into you at a new angle.
The stark difference has you gasping before you can control it. Immediately, Mark stops, and youâre already shaking your head before you even hear him say anything, presuming heâs paused out of concern. But before you can say youâre fine, his hushed voice cuts through the silence.
âDo that again.â
âWhat?â
âDo it again,â he mumbles, sounding distant. âBreathe in. Suck in your stomach.â
Youâre not one to complain at such a simple request, albeit a little odd, so you comply, inhaling enough to tighten your torso. Youâre surprised when you feel his cock twitch inside you, and you blow out the air alongside your question. âMark, what are youââ
âI can see it,â he says in utter disbelief. âWhen youâre like this, I can â I can see my cock inside you. Just a bit.â
Your eyes follow his gaze, fixed just below your navel. From this angle, without any movement, you canât see a thing, but you assume heâs not one to abandon fucking you so intently without good reason, so you press your palm against your stomach, just above your pelvis. Nothing really feels significantly out of place â up until the point when Mark draws his hips back again, and you feel the backward slide of his cock.
Your throat tightens, and you donât really understand the feeling that spreads in you â a unique kind of arousal, knowing how deep he is inside you and how youâre taking all of him in despite the fit, because of the fit. Your hand falls away, allowing Markâs to take its place, and he exerts just a little more pressure against your stomach in an attempt to get the most out of the experience when he thrusts back in. He groans, feeling the bulge push back up, and he quickly picks up the same pace, renewed in intensity so he can experience the rapid rise and fall he creates under his palm.
The faster he goes, the harder he presses, and youâre not sure if he knows it, but the onslaught of friction is whatâs making you whine and squirm even more; youâre trapped, in the best way possible, in his hold, your hands back to clinging to the backs of your knees like a lifeline. Pressure from the outside builds on the slowly growing pressure inside, a knot in your pelvis thatâs coiling so tightly you feel like you canât breathe. If Mark notices how close you are, he doesnât make it known; heâs busy feeling the outline of his cock against your stomach, and when he looks up at you again, his eyes are hazy.
âI would fuck you every single day, every single hour if I could feel this every time,â he whispers in a way thatâs almost reverent. âLet me â I want to keep seeing you like this. I want to feel how deep I am inside you, too. Let me fuck you all the time.â
You nod, and your first attempt to say something is just another choked sob. When you do manage to get something out, itâs broken in tearful stutters. âM-Mark, Iâm sâ Iâm so close⌠Iâm â fuckââ
âDo it.â Itâs not a harsh command but an urging made on short breath; through your misty vision, you see tension in Markâs face and shoulders, like heâs bracing himself for something too. You barely register the ping in the back of your mind, too focused on the way heâs pressing his palm harder on your stomach, the way his hips quicken their pace â heâs close too. âLet me feel you â want to feel you cum all over my cock.â
You inhale, not to speak but to let out a loud whimper; your teeth dig into your lower lip as you try to stifle the moans that threaten to follow, but in the end, you whine out his name. Your thighs threaten to close, trembling as you finally reach your climax, an impossible explosion of pleasure, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you donât get dizzy from the stars that burst around your vision.
âFuck.â Markâs voice is strained, his one hand still firm against your stomach, the other sliding against the inside of your thigh. âYou get even tighter â you feel even better when you cum.â
âMark,â you hiccup, unable to do anything but flutter around him as he pistons harder into you. You donât even know what youâre asking for when you say âplease,â but he somehow seems to, and you trust that your bodyâs saying something you canât fully detect in this state, with your mind floating in the aftermath of ecstasy.
âI know,â his tone is soothing in contrast to the intensity of his thrusts. âIâve got you. Just a little more â where do you wantâ?â
You blink slowly, his words sinking in at too leisurely a pace; his hips stutter dangerously before youâre able to respond. You barely even do that, your hand gently brushing over the one against your stomach, but he catches onto the meaning quickly enough.
Youâve never heard your name said in such a beautiful way; hearing him moaning it lowly is enough to make you whine again, and that noise is drawn out when he shifts and slips out of you fully. Your brainâs fuzzy, but your senses are at least sharp enough to drink in the perfect sight of him cumming â the way he leans his head back, jaw taut and eyes shut, as he pumps his cock and the heat of his release against your skin, pooling against your stomach once he finally cums. You see a shiver run through him, and then heâs still for a while in this position, the both of you basking in the afterglow of your highs.
Youâre still weak and sensitive when Mark finally comes back down, a lucidity you donât have right now coming back into his gaze. All you can do is smile when he leans in, catching your lips in another kiss â one thatâs surprisingly soft and slow in comparison to everything else, but still leaves you breathless when he pulls away.
âLet me clean you up,â he murmurs, and you hum in agreement, your body limp as you watch him move off the bed and pull a handful of tissues from a box on the desk on the opposite wall. Even his hands are gentle when he scoops you up, shifting you until your head can lean against the pillows. They carry a scent youâre not used to, and your nose scrunches, rejecting the change, but thatâs quickly overpowered by Markâs familiar coffee-and-linen one when he presses next to you, careful as he wipes his cum off your stomach and thoroughly cleans between your thighs. From somewhere down below, you still hear hushed voices, and the front door slams shut again. People are still in the middle of leaving, but you know Youngho will likely run out of guests soon, and this makes you feel like the timingâs suddenly become urgent.
âI want to date you properly,â you start, slightly slurred but unmistakably blunt. Markâs gaze snaps to yours, slightly amused, as he balls the tissues up in his fist. âYou never asked me, so Iâm asking you.â
He looks perplexed. âI just never thought you wanted me to, so I didnât try.â
You reach up, locking your fingers into his hair and using your grip to pull him down. Your kiss is a little demanding, with a tinge of excess frustration, and he pulls away laughing lightly.
âDo you still think I donât want you to?â
Mark hums thoughtfully. âI think you made a lot of things clear tonight. On my end, I was happy enough to be near you.â He smiles down at you, and in the faint light, you can see the flush slowly return to his cheeks. âHaving you like this â dating you⌠thereâs no way Iâd say no.â
Your shoulders relax, satisfied with his answer, and you beam up at him â an act he easily returns, breathtaking and endearing all at once.
Moments later, you feel his arm wind around your waist; he allows you to lean into his side, his other hand crossing over his lap to stroke your thigh. His face turns, pressing a kiss to your hair, and you feel his lips move, hear the quick rush of a whisper. You tilt your head, eyes slightly wide in questioning. âWhat was that?â
He shakes his head at first, trying to pass it off as nothing. But when itâs clear your curiosity wonât abate, he chuckles softly, his hand gently cupping your chin so that you can only look at him. His thumb strokes your bottom lip gently, as if trying to coax the same words out of your mouth before he murmurs them to you one more time â and this time, he sounds fully convinced of them.
âYouâre all mine.â
4K notes
¡
View notes
For your drabble reqs - Iâve been sitting on this for a hot hot hot second because imagining jiminâs crotch grinding on my ass and what could follow is turning me feral -
on your first date with shy Park Jimin, you both drink more than anticipated to take the edge off and end up getting a little too touchy feely on the dance floor.
âşď¸
MALLORYYYYYYY thank u for this lovely lovely req đââď¸ this was the perfect thing to shake the rust off!!! i hope you enjoy this one đ
~taking jihope drabble requests all month!!~
pairing: jimin x reader
wordcount: 1k exactly mmmm satisfying
contains: alcohol use, first date, reader and jimin are a lil sloshed, horny thots are thunk, grinding on the dancefloor, jimin calls himself a slut lmao, jimin playing with her panties through her dress and getting hard, sooooo it's kinda semi-public i guess, mentions of begging and sub!jimin, going home on the first date..... think that's it!
~*~
Your drinks catch up to you on the dancefloor, all at once.
Youâve thrown them back like water tonight, faster than you normally would on a first date. But the man whoâs sat across from you all night is intimidatingly gorgeous, not to mention sweet and soft-spoken and full of endearing little habits, like the way he pouted down into his own glass as he lifted it for a sip only to realize heâd already finished it.
Then heâd glanced up again as the empty glass tapped back down onto the table between you, his eyes just barely narrowing in a way that somehow managed to change his entire expressionâ made your stomach do a little backflip, too.
His voice was spun silk when he asked the question, dripped in something not quite innocent.
âDo you want to dance?â
What you hadnât accounted for when youâd nodded your agreement and tried to will the flush of heat out of your face was the fact that dancing would mean getting even closer to Jimin. Dancing means his hands cupping the curve of your hips, warm through the thin fabric of your dress. You also hadnât accounted for the way your liquor-soaked brain would take that spark and run a marathon with it, imagining those hands tangling in your hair, circling the buds of your breasts, slipping up your skirt.
Thereâs a steady pulse thudding in your core, in time to your heart and the bass of the speakers, and you swear the beat skips every time the flashing lights catch on an edge of Jimin: the full lines of his lips, the hoops sparkling diamond-bright at the corners of his jaw, the flicker of his lashes over the soft color bloom in his cheeks.
Itâs too much. The space between your thighs aches, begging to be filled, and so you let your body lead. The room spins a little; you turn with it, Jiminâs hands fluttering at your waist.
You donât know who initiates itâ if you pressed back, if he pulled you in, or if the draw is all magnetismâ but the space between your bodies narrows and then disappears. Your hips slot together, easy.
Something tells you the alcoholâs not to blame for the headrush buzz that hits you at the warmth of Jiminâs body under yours. The colors of the club smear together on the backs of your eyelids, and your lips part for a breath in when you feel his hips roll into yours like he knows what heâs doing.
And then his soft voice paints heat up the slope of your neck, and your eyes blink open again. âCan I tell you something?â
âY-yeah,â you stutter on your next exhale. The motion of his hips is steady now, a deliberate grind against the swell of your ass, a riptide threatening to drag you under. You make no attempts at resisting.
âIâm kind of a lightweight,â he admits, and you can hear that itâs true, his words sliding into each other. You canât help your giggle, partially because you werenât expecting his confession, and partially because, wellâ youâre feeling it too.
âThatâs okay.â You do your best to reassure, speaking up to carry over the pulse of the music. âMe too, I think.â
âCan I tell you something else?â
Jiminâs voice sinks low into his chest when he asks the question, and the rumble of it vibrates through you like the thrum of a plucked string, underscored by his hips still rocking into yours. You drag your teeth over your bottom lip before you answer.
âUh-huh.â
His nose grazes the line of your jaw, and you can hear the shy smile in his words when he speaks again.
âIâm also kind of a slut.â
Your breath hitches in your chest and you wonder if Jimin feels it. Itâs so dark, your bodies pressed flushâ itâs hard to keep up with where you end, where he begins, his tight black t-shirt and jeans blurring at the edges of your little black dress.
âThatâs more than okay,â you finally manage, and you feel him dig just a little deeper into where he has you, gripping tighter at the line of your waist, as if making a promise of whatâs to come.
âYeah?â Jimin purrs.
You let your body answer him, let your hands slip over his to guide them lower, a slow tease. Itâs easier to ask without words, your head dropped back against his shoulder, his fingertips seeking out the v-line of your panties through your dress, tracing the lace edge.
Thereâs no question that the crotch of his jeans has filled out now; you can feel him straining against denim, an insistent bulge at the curve of your ass. When you roll your hips in a circle, it earns a soft moan in your ear, one you could easily return at the wet drag of your thong when Jimin tugs at the fabric, rubbing a taste of friction just right over your clit. It lights your body up, a live fucking wire, and you need more than what you can get away with on this dancefloor.
âAnything else you want to tell me?â you murmur up to the ceiling.
Jiminâs mouth is hot when he presses a tongue-first kiss to the hinge of your jaw, then takes your earlobe between his teeth before answering. âYour body is driving me crazy. Wanna⌠fucking beg for it.â
âShit,â you canât help groaning, reaching a hand up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. You feel him stiffen all over when you tug a little, swear his dick even jumps in his pants. âIâd love to see you down on your knees, Jimin.â
âIâll be so good for you,â he outright whines, and you tighten your grip, arching your back to better rut yourself against him.
Thereâs only one question left to ask, it seems, and you canât wait a second longer.
âYour place or mine?â
649 notes
¡
View notes
Kinktober Day 31: Alien Kink + DK
For âď¸
Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2k
Pairing: Seokmin x Reader | Genre: smut, sci fi, romance
Warnings: dk is a clueless virgin alien, sex ed, oral f. rec., vaginal fingering, alien anatomy, breeding mention
Seokmin has only been dating you for two earth months, but already, he knows heâs in love.Â
His species doesnât put much stock in romance or dating - the most they seek is a suitable mate to help produce offspring every mating cycle - but Seokmin has always been different. Different enough that heâs never participated in the mating cycles at all, not wanting to share that side of himself with someone who wonât stay.Â
Different enough that heâs one of the few of his species that has ever left their planet, different enough that he can almost pass as human, if it werenât for his pointed ears and chameleon-like qualities. You donât seem to mind them, thankfully, nor do you mind the odd looks you get whenever you go out in public together.Â
Your kind has known about aliens for less than five years, barely long enough to grow accustomed to the idea and definitely not long enough for interspecies relationships to be normal. Seokmin isnât worried though, knowing that as earth grows into a galactic trade hub, more and more relationships like yours will pop up.Â
Until then, heâs content to ignore the looks, hold your hand on the street, and proudly let his cheeks flare purple, the color a sign of his deep, true love for you.Â
Or at least, thatâs what he tells himself.Â
The truth is, heâs dying to know what you look like naked.Â
Heâs tried to do research, but what he now knows is called âpornâ doesnât seem to be for him, and he canât even begin to understand the words or the diagrams in that anatomy textbook he borrowed from the library. Besides, he only wants to see you, touch you, learn you, no one else.
So, he does whatâs most logical to him, and simply asks.Â
Itâs on a calm Sunday afternoon that he first broaches the topic, one that sees Seokmin reading with his head in your lap as you rewatch your favorite show for the nth time. His book is getting to a particularly spicy bit, one that has heat growing in both of his stomachs, but as usual, when it gets to the more specific parts, Seokmin is clueless as to what theyâre talking about.Â
What is a pussy? Why is the main character putting his mouth on the love interestâs? And why is everything so wet??
These are all questions Seokmin needs an answer to, and he reaches over for the remote to pause your show so he can have your full attention. You blink down at him, arching an eyebrow in curiosity as he opens and closes his mouth like a fish, unsure of how to voice his questions.Â
In the end, he just asks you flat out.Â
By the time you get over your shock, finish laughing, and pull yourself back together, heâs pouting on the other end of the couch, his arms crossed and his cheeks bright orange in embarrassment.Â
âIâm sorry, Minnie, you just caught me off guard. Ummm,â you stall as you try to figure out how to answer, deciding to just be as clinical and explanatory as possible. âHumans generally have one of two types of genitalia, a vagina or a penis, and pussy is a less formal word for vagina, which is what I have. Thereâs something called oral sex, and itâs when you use your mouth to make someone feel good. Thatâs whatâs happening in your book.â
Ohhh. That makes sense, Seokmin thinks.
âAnd everything is wet because, well, the mouth is wet and the pussy can make its own wetness, so everything just gets a little⌠messy.â
Seokmin squirms in his place at the end of the couch, suddenly not at all interested in his book and only too intrigued by the idea of putting his mouth on you.Â
âCan we try that?â Seokmin asks urgently, shuffling over to you on his knees and imploring you with his eyes.Â
âRight now?â You question, trepidation in your voice and nervousness on your face. âI havenât shaved or anything.â
âWhatâs shaving?â Heâs never heard that word before, doesnât have a clue what it means, though you seem to think itâs bad that you havenât done it.Â
âNever mind,â you sigh happily, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss.Â
Kissing, Seokmin is used to. Kissing, Seokmin is good at.Â
And he loves loves loves kissing you, loves your sounds and the taste of your tongue and the feeling of your lips against his. Loves how close he feels to you and how close you get to him, loves how his head spins and how your hands wander, your fingers tracing over the pointed tips of his ears and down the ridges of his abdomen.Â
He shivers when you break away to suck kisses into his neck, his head falling back to give you more room as you bite and lick your way down his throat. You pull down his t-shirt collar to get at his collarbones and he covers your hand with his, pulling back and reminding you of the goal.Â
âIâm going to perform oral sex on you, remember?â
You bite back a smile and tell him, âSeokmin, try saying âgo down on youâ or âeat your pussyâ instead. They sound a bit sexier.âÂ
âBaby, I promise I would never eat you. Sure, humans can be a delicacy on some planets, but thatâs not how I do things,â he says, hand on his biggest heart and with all the seriousness in the world, unsure why threatening to consume you would sound any sexier than what he said.Â
âItâs just a figure of speech, Minnie. You wonât actually be eating me,â you promise gently, reminding Seokmin just how much he has left to learn about you and your people and your silly combinations of words.
âOh. What will I be doing?âÂ
âItâs like kissing, but you kind of have to multitask? Itâs hard to explain, Iâll guide you once you get down there.â
He rolls off the couch and shuffles close to you on his knees, placing his hands on yours to push your legs apart. Gazing expectantly at you, he waits for you to remove your clothes so he can see what heâs working with, all three of his hearts beginning to race as you lift your hips and shyly push at your pajama shorts.Â
He canât believe heâs about to see you bare, his first lover, his first girlfriend, his first human, and if he has anything to say about it, his last. The shorts get to your knees and he has to move his hands, settling them on your upper thighs and taking in a deep breath, tasting something sweetsour and heady on the air.Â
When you open your legs for him, he knows instantly that the flavor was you, and that itâs something he wants on his tongue now. He should take a look around, explore you a bit, but heâs letting his instincts guide him and theyâre saying to get his mouth on you as soon as possible, lest he lose this chance.Â
And oh, oh, Seokmin gets it now, why itâs called âeating out,â because he does want to eat you, he wants to consume you, he wants to drink you down. He wants to lick his fingers and taste you. Bite his lip and taste you. Swipe his tongue over his teeth and taste you. He wants you all over him, so he practically shoves his face into your pussy, shaking it from side to side to spread you out as his tongue laps at the folds and creases of you.Â
The taste is more concentrated further down, so further down he goes, making a questioning noise when he encounters something unexpected. Thereâs a⌠hole, or maybe an entrance? Are you hollow here?Â
His tongue delves inside, and all at once, heâs in heaven. Itâs like everything else falls away, his shoulders untensing and his fingers spasming on your knees as his cheeks flare a bright red, the color of deep, gnawing arousal.Â
Youâre searing hot and soaking wet, like a scalding shower on a freezing day, and your walls feel like molten velvet, the texture and flexibility of them mind blowing as they ripple and squeeze around his tongue.Â
Heâs never felt, tasted, encountered anything like you in his life, and he hopes youâre alright with him sticking around for the rest of it, because he canât give this up.Â
Seokmin canât know about the glory of your pussy and then suddenly forget about it, no, this will stay with him forever.Â
He feels something nudge against his forehead and looks up, his eyes nearly crossing in an effort to identify whatâs touching him. Itâs your fingers, youâre swirling them over something and with every pass, he feels you tightening up on his tongue, feels more of your slick coming out to coat his face.Â
âWhat are you doing?â He pulls away to ask, his tongue slightly sore and his lips swollen.Â
âUm, this is my clit, thereâs a lot of nerves here and touching it makes me feel the best,â you pant, stilling your hand and moving it to rest on your hip so he can inspect you closer. Thereâs a small bump peeking out of a little hood, and when Seokmin pokes his tongue out to give it a kitten lick, your hips buck into him.Â
âLike that?âÂ
âYeah, Minnie, like that. And you can fuck me with your-- your fingers, they can go inside.â
Oh, he likes whateverâs happening to your voice right now. You sound all breathy and needy and relaxed, and when he slides two fingers inside like you said, you moan raggedly and clench around them, the feeling of your walls grasping his fingers making his head spin.Â
He can only imagine what you would feel like around his aching cock, can only hope that one day, heâll get to experience it. Maybe if he does really good with this, youâll let him inside of you, let him fill you up and stretch you out, let him mate you and breed you and keep you.Â
Just the idea has him doubling his efforts, has him wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking hard, increasing the speed of his fingers until he feels like he really is fucking you with them, until your walls are undulating around his fingers and your arousal is dripping down his wrist.Â
âJust like that, Seokmin. Donât stop, please,â you cry brokenly, your hips moving with his hand as he pushes you higher and higher.Â
He moans his affirmation into you and the vibrations must send you over the edge, because your pussy is fluttering and clenching and squeezing like crazy, and he can feel your clit throbbing between his lips as wetness seeps out of you, your whines so high and sweet he wants to bottle them up, save them for later.Â
He wants to keep going but begrudgingly stops when you push him away by the forehead, his fingers stagnant inside of you and his lips detaching from your clit with a slick pop.Â
âWas that good?â Seokmin slurs, his mouth exhausted and his brain drunk on you.Â
âIt was perfect, Seokmin. You did such a good job,â you murmur as you pet his hair, not stopping him when he lays down again, his cheek pillowed by your thigh. Heâs still aching but you seem tired, and heâs not sure how long heâll be able to last after that, anyway.Â
Heâll need to practice a lot if he wants to make it through to the actual mating part.Â
Oh no, how terrible that will be, Seokmin thinks with a giddy smile.Â
Kinktober Masterlist
AN: okayyy this was getting a little long so i cut it off before we got to the fucking but i might do a part two!! if that's something you're interested in, pls comment or reblog to let me know!!
thank you so much for sticking with me and encouraging me through all of kinktober, it's been harder than i ever thought it would be but also more fun than i expected, and i feel like i've really grown as a smut writer!
ily and happy halloween đđđ
776 notes
¡
View notes
âË.â・ đ¨đŹđđđŠđđ§ đŠđđđŁ đĽđđđ¨
navi | taglist | part of svthub's fall-ing collab
pairing: lee seokmin x afab!reader
w.c.: 5.0k
genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, apple picking and pie baking and some sweet lovemaking <3
a loversâ retreatâgolden rays cast shadows over high, blushing cheekbones, flour-kissed noses and eye smiles as warm as the oven��s embrace, secrets and tender kisses shared with the starry night, and in a wooden cabin fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon and caramel, the love shared was sweeter than the finest apple pie.
â warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (đ), creampie, praise, edging, some begging, some cockwarming, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (f), nicknames (min; baby, babe, love), some aftercare, seokmin is so fucking whipped (so is reader), there's so much love talk in this, I hate myself.
â A/N: nobody come for my inconsistent pie recipe, I didn't use one (also idc if you don't knead the dough, i needed it to describe seokmin's bulging muscles tyvm). other than that, this fic means a lot to me and despite struggling for the most part, I really enjoyed writing it. happy reading! :]
nsfw under the cutâminors dni đ
Slender fingers rounded the hanging fruit, examining for imperfections with eager eyes and the tip of a tongue held between pearly whites. The crisp air contrasted the solacing warmth of the morning sun under which you basked, strolling between green leaves and bright reds with a near-empty basket dangling at your side. You wanted him to work faster, to disregard whatever negligible bumps lay on the applesâ exterior, but you opted to remain silent, simply watching him from the sidelines while he carried on with his meticulous inspections.
Seokmin was spring. Smiles that could bring a barren land to life, vivid flora and singing birds fluttering around within the glimmers decorating his irises. But spring had long since ended, now treading deeper into the cooling weather of autumn, and yet, Seokmin still offered verve to everything he touched. Even as green turned to yellow then amber, and tanned skin rested beneath thick layers of cashmere and fleece, he still wore his spring smileâa reminder that the season of life will come again. He carried warmth wherever he went, and the biting chill attempting to penetrate thick layers of clothing stood no chance while his towering figure remained by your side.
You watched him throw the fallen end of his scarf over his shoulder, a woven cream heâd worn on your first date. Hoary yarn ends peeked out along its length, and you reminisced the store tag heâd forgotten to remove while he fiddled with his fingers and laughed anxiously before you all those years ago, so young and eager to impress. Youâd mused over the giggles shaking his tense shoulders, the pretty pink painting his face and ears when you failed to rip it off in a discreet manner, and though the embarrassment was debilitating in the moment, the worry weighing down on Seokminâs shoulders faded away as you laughed. It was well into winter when youâd walked alongside the river, steaming cups of hot chocolate resting between your palmsâgoing cold before you had the chance to sip on them, only there to fight off the bleak midwinter breeze numbing your appendages. Young and dumb, you both were, walking by the river on a chilly day, but young and dumb brought upon you years of easy smiles and hearty laughs, unconditional love and unending happiness, all sprouting from sharing arbitrary details about yourselves with that same cream scarf draped around you both.
Dark locks now dyed the colour of changing leaves, the morning rays casting their golden hue over the wavy strands and reflecting off the specs perched over his nose bridge. Seokmin was a few inches taller now, and his shoulders broader, but the smile he wore, the sparkle in his eyes as he laid them on you were no different than those from that day by the river.
Chatter at your side dragged your attention off Seokminâs profile and onto the family walking past youâtwo curious children and their parents inspecting the ripe fruit hanging before them. Scripts of late-night conversations youâd had with Seokmin flooded your mind, your face flushing and butterflies swarming your lower belly at the thought of starting a family with the man. Seokmin's fascination with learning how to braid your hair, his whispered commentââfor the futureââdid not go unnoticed as he brushed gentle fingers through the stands heâd tangled in his attempts, a hint of a promise in his tone. He also promised to never leave them alone with Hoshi, which you appreciated. For obvious reasons. You were still young, and had much to experience together before taking a step that significant, but part of you was ready to offer Seokmin the world. A man whoâd brought nothing bliss and warmth into your life, how could you not?
Turning your head back to the man in question, your eyebrows raised as you watched him eying the passing family alongside you, and you wondered whether the same thoughts were running through his head as well. But then his attention shifted back to you, and the amiable smile while he took you in told you everything you needed to know.
The curve of his lips persisted as he reached a hand to push the stray strands blown by the chilling breeze off your face, pinching the fat of your cheeks between his pointer and thumb before dropping them back to his side. A gentle gesture, but it lit your insides on fire, blinking quickly as you processed an action so natural to him, yet one that set you ablaze. Swallowing nervously, you redirected your gaze to the three apples resting over Seokminâs palms as he presented the flawless, shiny Honeycrisps with a proud grin.
You giggled, âthose look great, Min.â
âOnly the best for you,â he leaned forward to plant a kiss onto the cheek heâd just pinched.
Flustered, you watched him throw the apples into the basket you held, his fingers brushing against yours as he swiftly pulled it out of your hand and carried on walking through the orchard. You might have missed a few additions to the small pile while you pondered about a lifetime by Seokminâs side, and yes, the basket was significantly more weighed down now that he did. But it wasnât that heavy.
You skipped a few steps to catch up with him, your bottom lip jutting out in protest. âMin. I can carry it myself.â
âMm, I know,â he hummed, eyes trained on the novel batch of apples swinging gently at his eye level. âDonât want you to, though.â
You pushed away the fondness warming your chest, capturing his coatâs sleeve between two fingers as you sulked at his side, his attention still set on those damn apples. He moved the basket to his other hand absentmindedly, allowing you more space to come closer to his side, his free arm wrapping around your waist, and head twisting to look over your moping features with tender adoration gracing his own. Leaning down, he pressed soft lips to your forehead, their warmth seeping into your skin and fluttering your eyelids shut.
Placing another one at your temple, playfulness mingled in his tone as he spoke, âStop complaining, youâre not getting it back.â
And this time, all you could do was laugh.
The hours hurried by while Seokminâs endless chatter kept you company, and perhaps you wish it hadnât, wanting to treasure each passing second you shared in the presence of the man with the unwavering smile. You walked between the endless trees with leisure steps, the fingers entangled with yours occasionally dragging you with them to inspect the gradient of red and green. Some apples made the cut, thrown into the pile of spotless fruit heâd gathered over the past few hours, while others remained swaying with the gentle breeze, bruised exterior reflecting the golden rays.
A particular shade of green caught Seokminâs eye, leaving your hand behind at your side to wrap slender fingers around the glossy circumference, rotating it gently to inspect it, going as far as leaning forward to get a closer look. Nodding to himself, he snapped its stem off and placed the weighted basket down, wrapping the apple in his cream scarf to give it a good wipe. You felt yourself salivate at the satisfying crunch sounding as Seokminâs teeth breached the unblemished skin, and you watched the pucker of his lips as he chewed with wide, expecting eyes. A breathy chuckle contained within tightly pursed lips echoed in the back of his throat upon viewing the anticipation etched into your expression, and he moved the unbitten side towards your already-parted lips. Too focused on the apple nearing your waiting mouth, youâd missed the sly smile, the giggle heâd nearly failed at suppressing, and bit into the polished green.
A stream of its juice slipped past to flow down your chin, bitterness overwhelming your tastebuds and forcing your eyes firmly shut. A shiver ran down your spine as you struggled to chew on the unripe fruit, tears prickling in your eyes as you willed them open to glare at the man before you, hints of guilt mixed in with amusement on his face. Underneath all the kind smiles and caring gestures, Seokmin loved being an asshole.
Heâd watched you persist and push through finishing the bite, too many people around now to spit it out. He even leaned forward to kiss away the tangy juice cooling over your skin, scrunching his nose at the sourness heâd willingly stolen another taste of. At least he was aware enough to take a step back once youâd swallowed the unpleasant bite down, what you thought was fear flashing across his features.
âHey,â he put his hand up in defence before you could speak, âwe share everything, right?â He took another step backward while giggling anxiously, and he nearly tripped over the apple-full basket he had resting over the soft grass. âWhy should I make an exception for fruit?â
âBad fruit,â you corrected, an eyebrow raised.
âBabe,â he started, but didnât know how to continue, perhaps hoping the sparkling brown of his irises would do the trick.
And it almost did, you admit. But the bitterness lingered over your tongue, and Seokmin found himself scurrying away and out of the fire zone of the incoming apples youâd launched at him, laughing while you entertained the couples and children harvesting their own fruit with your lively act of revenge.
--
You smoothed your hands down the fresh set of clothes youâd thrown on, the fleece warm against your skin. The ligneous scent of your rented cabin added to its coziness, gentle winds blowing against closed windows and floorboards creaking with every socked footstep guiding you to the small kitchen.
Said footsteps quickened upon spotting bright green reflecting off the sharp metal of the very large knife in Seokminâs hand, eyebrows furrowed as he focused on dividing the apple into even crescents. The hurried shuffling drew his attention, twisting his head just as you reached for the sharp tool, gently untangling his fingers off its handle to set it down over the cutting board alongside the botched fruit.
âBaby?â Tilting his head to the side, he stared at you in confusion.
You held both his hands in yours, flat over your palms as you inspected the tanned skin. Running your thumbs over polished nailbeds, you followed the protruding veins lining his slender fingers, all the way down each knuckle until youâd made sure he was unharmed. You enclosed his fingers within your palm, bringing them up to press your lips against, finding his pointer to plant an especially tender kiss over the scar stretching across its side.
âI was being careful,â he spoke through a melodramatic pout.
You smiled. âI know you were, Min. But let me handle the chopping this time, okay?â
Averting his eyes to the side, pretending to focus on the yellowing trees past the windowpane, Seokmin nodded, his hands limp in your hold. You lowered them to his side to cradle his jaw, tilting his head down to meet your eyes once again and staring him down in hopes of breaking his composure, but Seokminâs pout persisted. And so the kisses began, soft and delicate over his cheekbones, forcing his eyes shut as you trailed your lips over the trembling skin. Leaning your head back, you watched his evident struggle against a betraying smile, finally curling the corners of his mouth when youâd dragged his head down with a forceful kiss to his cheek, the skin stretching under your lips while you kept them pressed there for a few more seconds. You moved away with an audible smack, Seokminâs pout nowhere to be seen as he stared down at you with an uncontainable smile.
âWhy donât you make the dough instead?â
You picked up where Seokmin left offâhalf an apple chopped sloppily, which you ended up munching on while you workedâgoing through the washed apples to pick out the greenest, cutting them into even pieces and throwing them in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar. You remembered the nutmeg later on, after the frustrated noise at your side caught your attention, confusion raising your eyebrow when youâd noticed the powdery dough Seokmin was working with. Heâd forgotten the eggs. Â The embarrassment on his face was adorable, rose-tinted cheeks and restrained smile while watching you crack an egg into the crumbly mess heâd been working on for a shameful amount of time. A quick kiss to his jaw and a whispered âitâs okay, Minâ seemed to do the trick, though.
Tossing the last of the apples into the seasoning bowl, you sprinkled nutmeg over the shimmering crescents before grabbing a clean spoon from the dishrack, the spicesâ aroma wafting in the air around you as you mixed them in with the fruit. Glancing over at Seokmin, you realised heâd begun kneading the dough, flour dusted over the marble counter as he rolled the raw crust in on itself, and as you took in the hard muscle bulging against the sleeve of his t-shirt, your fingers unconsciously loosened around the spoon you held. Your eyes wandered over flexing biceps and defined, broad shoulders, veins protruding from tan skin as he worked the dough under his palm. Bottom lip tucked between a set of pearly whites, his eyebrows furrowed occasionally while the ball gradually smoothened in his hands, growing less crumbly and eventually forming a near-perfect sphere.
Absentmindedly tumbling the apples with a limp grip around the spoon, you followed Seokminâs movements, lower belly fluttering with every faint, airy grunt sounding in the back of his throat as he worked the dough. Â Your thoughts strayed as you eyed the distracting flex of his musclesâthe smile he wore, so sweet and tender, contrasted broad shoulders and the strength to manhandle you without much thought. You were almost certain Seokmin had no awareness of the fact, going about what he was doing without much regard to the blushing mess heâd left behind, the butterflies violently thrashing around within your stomach. The sparkling orbs with which he gazed at you, with charming innocence, oblivious to the effect he had on you. Perhaps that was for the best; you werenât sure youâd want to find out what would become of him should he learn of the hidden power heâd been holding this entire time.
Sudden eye contact dragged you out of your daydreams when the man before you turned in your direction, the smooth doughball resting over his palm, and a proud smile on his lips. You held back the one threatening to break out on yours when youâd spotted the white dusting the pointy tip of his nose, some lightly powdering his cheeks as well. Instead, your chest warmed at his wordless flaunting as he slowly moved the undented dough towards you, sparkling eyes fishing for praise. And sure, you basically made the dough for him, and yes, all he did was mix the ingredients together with firm, hard-earned muscle, but the slight falter in his smile the longer you remained silent was enough to sway you.
âIt looks great, Min!â You stepped closer, inspecting the roundness with wide eyes for a few seconds before straightening up to meet his eyes, âIâm proud of you, my love.â
Though a simple gesture, Seokminâs face lit up, all but hurling the dough onto the counter to pull you into his arms, grinning into your shoulder while he squeezed your laughing frame closer to his chest. His arms still around you, he pulled away slightly, stars dancing in his eyes as he gazed at you gleefully, smiling against your lips as you got onto your tiptoes to kiss him lightly. But that didnât satisfy Seokmin, his arm wrapping across your back to pull you back into him, locking his lips with yours once again, this time with hunger and hints of desire laced into the action. He kissed you once, twice, until heâd had a taste and realized heâd never have enough, needing sweetness and plush lips to forever bless his senses. While you held on to his biceps for balance, Seokmin was everywhereâhands up your back, over your arms and waist, and suddenly he was kissing you harder, deeper, tongue swiping across your bottom lip and teeth digging into it with a fervent want that sent waves of heat soaring through your body.
Pulling away for air, your chests heaved in unison, flush against one another as Seokmin peered down at you with hooded eyes, a spark of lust igniting the dark irises. And suddenly you were back in the present, the forgotten apples browning in their bowl, and the dough witnessing the heated exchange from its place on the counter.
âT-the pie!â you quickly diverted, pushing Seokmin away to shift your focus back to the task at hand, but you could feel his eyes boring into the back of your skull. âCan you preheat the oven please?â
An amused laugh sounded behind you at the shakiness of your voice, âyes, boss.â Just as you were about to sigh in relief, you heard him take a step towards you, his chest bumping into your shoulder and a gentle whisper blowing against the shell of your ear. âYou have flour all over your face, by the way.â
And your pants, you thought, as his palm landed a playful slap onto your ass before he made his way to the other side of the kitchen.
The heat coursing through you dwindled as you fixated on the unfinished pie, save for those resulting from the not-so-hidden glances youâd stolen of Seokminâs defined biceps as he moved the rolling pin over the dough. It was smooth sailing after that, though, missing the heart eyes directed at you as you spooned the filling into the rolled-out crust, perfectly fitted into the baking mould. You attempted to control your expressions as Seokmin tried and failed to cut straight lines out of the leftover dough, begrudgingly allowing him to place the uneven lattice in a questionable pattern, the chipper smile stretching his lips while he worked more than enough to excuse an ugly pie.
Carrying the raw pie over his head like Simba, Seokmin made his way to the oven. You held the door open for him, eyes following the baking mould as he transferred it onto the rack, gasping when his finger met the scorching metal. He placed the pie down and pretended nothing happened, ignoring the forming mark on his knuckle as he swung the oven door shut. And despite the whining and attempts of reassurance, you dragged Seokmin to the sink and ran cold water over his hand, once again kissing his pout away while you stood with barely any space separating your bodies.
His free hand slid across the small of your back, his other leaving its place under the running water to shut it off, wiping the droplets over his sweats before holding onto your hip. Leaning down, he met your lips once more, then again, until short pecks deepened, and a sharp nose nuzzled into the side of yours as he pulled you further into his body.
You pulled away with a gasp, startling Seokmin away from your lips, âthe sweet potatoes!â
The initial shock replaced by softening eyes and a breathy laugh, Seokmin squeezed your waist once before releasing you. He stood to the side while you wrapped foil around the sangria exterior, offering to put them in the oven for you, but backing down at the disapproving glare you threw at him. Perhaps Seokmin had unintentionally caused a case of Pavlovian conditioning, one you remained unaware of, because the very second his bottom lip jutted out, yours were pressing consoling kisses over its plushness. Sometimes it took a few tries, but thatâs only because you enjoyed watching the manâbroad shoulders and allâsulk and whine when he didnât get his way, only to lighten up and grin once your lips met his. Itâs unclear who the winner was in this game, both parties working with a motive and ending with a satisfying result. Peculiar, really.
You settled down on the creaky floorboards across from the oven, your back to Seokminâs chest and his thighs on either side of yours. His arms rested comfortably around your waist, hands limp at your hips, occasionally squeezing at the clothed flesh. Watching the pie crust brown through the glass, you basked in the cosy aroma circulating the cabin, the heat emanating from Seokminâs body gentler and more comforting than that caramelising the sugar drizzled over the wonky lattice. Delicate fingers smoothed down your hair, and a silky voice lulled you to a tranquil state of comfort, strong arms holding you within the aura of warmth until a sharp click sounded, with the nostalgic scent of cinnamon and caramel to guide you out of slumberâs enticing grip, and back to toothy smiles and a cordial embrace.
--
The nightâs breeze was crisp against slick skin, the warmth encased within the confines of the thick blankets now infiltrated through a window forgotten open. Seokmin noticed the raised goosebumps over your arms, and lowered his body until your chests laid flush, his forearms on either side of your head keeping his weight off your form.
âCold?â he asked, lips pressing against your jaw and up to your cheekbone, over the frosty tip of your nose.
You shook your head, ânot anymore,â and wrapped your arms around the soft skin of his waist.
Seokmin smiled, gentle features illuminated by the moonlight peeking through the cracked-open blindsâa cool-toned hue casting shadows over his face, moving as he pressed his pelvis closer to yours with an exhaled moan. Moving his weight over to one arm, he slid the other down to your core, splaying his palm out over your lower belly to thumb at your clit.
Heâd been teasing you for so longâhis cock filling you up the way you wanted, but only barely teasing your g-spot, refusing to move despite your repetitive whines; instead, he occasionally reached two slender fingers between your legs to relieve some of the arousal burning underneath your skin. This time, though, youâd reached your limit, clenching around him as a sudden high rushed through you, shaking your body within his hold.
Despite a dayâs worth of lingering touches and heated kisses, a hand placed a little too low on your back, and eyes lit with unconcealed glints of want, the patience Seokmin exhibited as he guided you through your orgasm was not surprising. Heâd always enjoyed givingâcurling his fingers just right to take in the elegant arch of your back, your sweet taste on his tongue while he nuzzled his nose into your soaked pussy. But most of all, Seokmin savoured the tight squeeze around his cock as he fucked you through an orgasm, his breath heavy and eyes lidded with the pleasure your walls lavished upon him.
Slowly fading back into the present, you peered up at the man atop you, the column of his throat stretched as he took in the violent fluttering of your walls. But you wanted more, pent up and restless with his scent, his warm touch, occupying your every sense. And he still wonât move.
You rolled your hips experimentally, a startled hand rushing to stop you, fingers digging into the flesh to stifle the motion. âPlease,â you whined, âMin, please move.â
Groaning at your tone, cock throbbing between your walls, âoh baby,â he breathed out, bumping his forehead with yours and allowing his eyelids to fall shut. âIâve been thinking about having you like this all day. I wanna last for you, my love, âwanna make you feel so good.â
Arousal boiled in your lower belly, eyelashes fluttering and a shaky breath escaping your parted lips at the words whispered in the air between you. âMin-â
âLet me be good for you.â
A kiss to your temple and a few inhales were all it took Seokmin to regain his composure, his forehead still pressed to yours as he tugged you closer by the hips, languidly rolling his own into your heat. The leisure glide wasnât much, but it sent a shiver through your body. It was as though Seokmin could read the wordless pleads sparkling in your eyes, pulling his face away just enough to adjust the angle before settling back down onto your body. Fingers tangled in your hair to keep your eyes on his, blinking in unison while you breathed the same air, gentle waves of pleasure drawing breathy moans out of the both of you, his cockhead brushing against your sweet spot every time he drove it inside your cunt.
Sliding a hand over his sweat-coated nape, you dragged Seokmin down to your lips, the sweetness of a pie forgotten outside enriching your tastebuds, the single remaining piece left over the picnic blanket alongside crumbled foilâthe unintentionally discarded dessert serving as breakfast for the blackbirds to nip at when the morning came.
The hand lost in your hair found its way to your jaw, cradling your face while he devoured you, the kiss growing deeper the farther Seokmin sunk down the blazing pit of lust growing within him. His cock twitched erratically within you, pace picking up until the echo of skin-on-skin danced between the four walls, hips slamming against yours with fervour as his eagerness finally won over him. Unable to focus on anything but the mind-numbing heaviness of his cock pounding into you, your lips parted to release a staccato of ahâs, his own relentless as they peppered wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your face.
âGod, youâre perfect,â he grabbed your cheeks with the hand previously on your jaw, squishing them together to lay his lips onto the forced pout on yours, âall mine.â
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head at the repetitive abuse to your cunt, squelching obscenely every time Seokmin fucked his entire length inside. âAllâhnghâall yours,â you repeated, exhaling a breath youâd been holding when sudden warmth spread through your abdomen.
âIâhahââm sorry,â he stuttered as his rhythm turned sloppy, shuddering when he finally came. Sheathing himself deep withing your heat, he fed ropes of translucent white into your womb while attempting to keep his eyes on you, long eyelashes fluttering while ecstasy flowed through his body.  âFelt so good, I couldnâtâŚâ he paused to lower his head, interrupted by a string of airy moans as the last, weak spurts of cum emptied out of his twitching cock. âI couldnât help it,â he muttered.
The reassurance died on your tongue when the sensitive cock drew out halfway, only to slam back into you as though the arms bracketing your head didnât continue to tremble with the continuing effects of his orgasm. Lifting his head back up to meet your gaze, he lowered his hand back down to play with your cunt, dipping down to feel around your stretched hole and back up to circle your clit with the slick heâd collected, a silent promise of âIâll be goodâ glimmering in his lidded eyes while he watched you fall apart under his touch.
And he was, so good.
You tumbled over the edge unexpectedly, cockhead pounding into your cunt while he rolled your clit underneath his fingertips until your features contorted gracefully, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you shut them and tilted your head back to welcome a stupefying orgasm. You tensed for a moment, then began spasming uncontrollably in his arms, hips simultaneously jerking towards and away from his touch as he guided you through your high, languidly gliding his cock along your dripping, clenching walls, both hands now gripping the soft flesh of your hips.
And when the stimulation sent pangs of pain up your body, a whispered repetition of his name paired with limp tugs at his wrist finally broke Seokmin away from you and the bewitching melody he drew out of the perfect circle shaping your mouth. He slid his softening cock out of your heat to allow thick dollops of pearly cum to stream out of your pussy, watching as your hole clenched uselessly until your abashed whine dragged him out of his thoughts.
You found yourself tucked in under layers of thick blankets while running water sounded in the bathroom, bare feet padding over the floorboards until Seokminâwith his boxers on backwardsâreached under the covers to blindly drag a warm washcloth over your skin, hoping it would catch all the sweat and cum without having to expose you to the chill air. You drew your lips into a straight line to avoid laughing at the concentration furrowing his eyebrows, cheeks flushing as he washed your middle. Any other day, Seokmin would make a big deal of cleaning you up properly, but you could see the hair on his arms raising, the autumn nightâs chill piercing through his skin.
He didnât even bother with returning the rag to its place, tossing it over his shoulder to dive under the cosy blankets with you, limbs tangling as soon as he made it thereâarms circling your tired frame and legs pushing between and over yours. The momentary frigidity dissipating, his body heat seeped into your very being, and you inhaled the fresh scent of laundry mixed in with remaining hints of his cologne. Nuzzling the pointy tip of his nose into your hair, he planted a kiss onto your crown, the gesture faint as his steady heartbeat lulled you to much-needed slumber, the serene trip to dreamland occupied with solacing thoughts about a forever home within Seokminâs tender embrace.
reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^
apply for my tag list here (´・⢠ᾠâ˘ď˝Ą`) âĄ
863 notes
¡
View notes
roommates
đ staring. Hyuck & Mark x afab!Reader
đŽ synopsis. as Jungwoo's best friend, you have your pick of fratboys to date, including Jeno, who has a huge crush on you. But you're only attracted to Lee's that come in pairs, and you can't get roommates Mark and Hyuck off your mind.
cw/ tw. drug use (weed), threesome, pet names: baby & kitten, praise, degradation, dirty talk, spanking, fingering, oral (f/m receiving), hand job, anal, double penetration, unprotected sex, edging, body worship, cumplay/creampie, etcâŚ
đš rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 8.3k
đ aus. frat au, stoner au, poly au
âď¸Â mlist + an. stoner frat boy roommate MarkHyuck- what else can I even say
Itâs halfway through the annual Halloween party when a battle of âwhoâs the strongest Avengerâ breaks out amongst a group of frat boys all dressed the part. And soon, the room is watching an arm wrestle between Sungchan and Jeno, two of last years âbeffiest pledges,â who are now eager to make a name for themselves amongst their elders.
Jungwoo takes a sip of his drink, and then, in classic best friend fashion, he asks you for the umpteenth time; âAre you sure you donât want Jeno?âÂ
âYeah,â you respond, swallowing thickly and tearing your gaze off of beautifully sculpted biceps- âAre you sure you donât want Jeno?âÂ
The tall engineering major rolls his eyes at the insinuation, clicking his tongue. âI know who you want instead,â he reminds you, âand I donât like it.â
âWhatâs not to like?â you laugh, enjoying the way Jungwoo reacts every time he remembers your most recent âcampus crushâ is not one, but two of his frat brothers- and theyâre roommates.
âMark is a great guy,â your best friend says smoothly, taking a large sip of his drink while he scans the crowd- âHyuck is a fuck.â
Your grin widens, and you watch Jungwoo down the rest of his mystery fruit punch - which had mostly been vodka - then you hold out your own cup of water for him when he immediately teeters over, grabbing at your shoulder to steady himself.
âAnd you, my friend,â - you say, a determined devil intent on leading the man dressed as an angel up to his room sooner rather than later - âare drunk.â
Itâs past midnight by the time you leave Jungwooâs room, and you immediately head off towards the place you know youâll find Mark and Haechan.
The stoners are predictable by now; they hang out at a party, heading outside or up to their room for a hit from various bongs, dab rigs, vape pens, joints and the like- until slowly- they just stay in their room.Â
The last time youâd come through here with Jungwoo, Mark had been kind enough to show you how to take a hit from the bong, and youâd ended up hanging out for a while. To your disappointment that night, Haechan hadnât arrived until later, Jeno in tow-
But this time, youâre surprised to find Mark and Hyuck alone in their room.Â
The first of the two is splayed across his bed, arm bent, hand behind his head- he looks comfortable, a casual dude listening to music while he toys with the little fidget heâs playing with between his fingers. Heâs still wearing blue jeans and his hockey jersey- Markâs never been known to go to extremes for Halloween.Â
Hyuck, meanwhile, is at the desk by the window, seated in his gaming chair with his head back- eyes closed- heâd come to the party as Joaquin Phoenix's âThe Jokerâ, and while his makeup has been removed, the red suit is still an attention grabber.Â
âAre you two busy?â you ask.
Now you have their attention, and while Mark licks his lips, opening his mouth like heâs about to say something- Hyuck beats him to the punch: âNot busy. Come in, whatâs up?â
âJungwoo fell asleep and I just- are you sure youâre not busy?â you honestly canât believe they donât have at least one girl in the room already-Â
Mark and Haechan have to be two of the hottest guys in the frat- or, while youâve heard some people donât instantly find themselves attracted to Mark - heâs been voted âmost husbandâ by the sorority girls at Winter Formal for two years in a row for a reason-
âWeâre seriously not busy, come in,â Hyuck laughs, flashing you a grin. âJungwoo fell asleep?â
âUh huh,â you step into their bedroom, closing the door gently behind you. Then you head to the foot of Markâs bed, continuing, âI thought heâd pass out easy, but tonight he took a while, needed head scratches and everything-â
âIâve heard about the head scratches,â the Canadian smiles softly, sitting up and tucking his feet closer to himself so you can have at least half of his bed to sit on.Â
âJungwoo doesnât keep his mouth shut about anything,â you say fondly- of course heâd tell his friends about your âcuddle timeâ.
âHeâs also still very serious every time he tells us the two of you arenât dating,â Hyuck muses, âdespite the head scratches, cuddles and matching halloween costumes.âÂ
You settle against the wall with a laugh- the matching angel/devil costume had been fun to do this year with Jungwoo- heâd even bleached his hair blonde for it- âAnd Iâll be serious right now when I also tell you weâre not dating.âÂ
âOkay- and what do you think about Jeno?âÂ
The sudden shift in Hyuckâs questioning has you nearly gasping in shock- and you end up laughing again. âYou are not wingmanning Jeno at me right now-â
âOkay,â Haechan holds his hands up, âIâm not.â
âNowâs probably a good time to tell you,â Mark speaks up again, âwe broke our bong and we only have the dab rig tonight.â
âSure Mark- go straight to the fact that we donât have the one thing that sheâs here to get from us-â Hyuck rolls his eyes.
And now itâs Markâs turn to hold his hands up in defence- âIâm just saying-â
âIâll try the dab rig,â you tell them, which immediately breaks up the commotion, and draws two pretty sets of brown eyes to you again. âIf thatâs okay.â
âHave you ever tried one of these?â Hyuck asks, lifting the glass device much smaller than the bong youâd used last time.Â
You shake your head.
âHave you seen one used?â Mark questions next.
Another shake of your head.
âYouâre in for a treat tonight then,â Hyuck grins, dipping into the Halloween spirit. Â
âAnd no tricks,â Mark adds, but it feels more like a warning directed towards his roommate than an assurance for you. âHere, heâll get a dab ready for himself, and Iâll talk you through what heâs doing.â
Sometimes you forget that Mark is older than Haechan- who is the type to demand to have the last say in most things. Mark, meanwhile, generally seems happy to blend in with everyone else, following the flow of things-
Itâs nice to see him step up like this, even while obviously high.
Or perhaps itâs the weed thatâs giving the generally anxious frat boy a boost of ego?
âSo instead of grinding up weed, like with a bong, for the dab rig, we have use what we call shatter- but thereâs a less intense version called butter that Iâll give you when you try-â Mark explains as his friend presses a thin metal tool to a tiny, fragile sheet of orangey crystallines on a piece of parchment. âHyuck doesnât clean his tools, so usually theyâre sticky enough for him to just touch the shatter and have them stick-â
âI donât clean them specifically so they do stick,â retorts the man who does his craft diligently, lifting the metal tool with the shatter attached to one end before setting it to the side.Â
âSure you do,â Mark laughs, and you see - for a brief moment - the glimmer of affection in his eyes.Â
This must be something they disagree on often.Â
âThen this,â Hyuck continues, lifing the next tool involved in this insanely complicated âdab rigâ process, âis the flamethrower instead of a lighter.âÂ
âWatch how heâs gotta press down on the button, and then the notch, then hit the safety lock-âÂ
âThis is so complicated-â you laugh, knowing thereâs no way youâre going to be able to replicate the process-
âNah,â Hyuck shrugs, âyou just gotta hold it under this thing here: on a bong itâs the bowl where you put the weed, but on the rig itâs called a banger and basically what we do - once this is hot - is put the shatter into it, and it will evaporate from the heat and turn into smoke, which we breathe in-â
âBut the banger has to be hot enough or the hit wonât be as good,â Mark warns you, âso we heat it for like, thirty seconds, or until itâs hot-â
âWho knew there were so many details to being a stoner,â you muse in shock, blinking at the instructions that just fly by you-
âItâs okay,â Mark says, offering you a smile, âIâll help you when you take your hit, all youâll have to do is breathe and Iâll tell you when to stop.â
âLike last time,â you nod, transfixed when Hyuck finally takes his hit.
Thereâs quite a lot of smoke that fills in the tiny glass contraption, and lots of bubbles- Hyuck breathes everything in, and he props the window open, letting out a massive cloud that disappears into the cold, dark night-
âFuck-â he says, letting out a dry cough before reaching for his water. âDonât-â cough, âforget-â cough, âto have your water ready.â The man they call âHyuckâ takes a large swig from his bottle before pushing away from the table and standing up.Â
He turns, takes two steps, and faceplants onto his bed, letting out a groan.
âItâs that strong?â you ask in shock.
Youâve seen Hyuck take some pretty big bong rips-Â
âWeâve been going at the rig all night,â Mark tells you, replacing Haechan in the gaming chair so he can get a dab on the go for you.Â
You like the idea of the two of them going at something⌠together.Â
âSo this is butter,â Mark holds out a small blue canister, showing you the buttery texture of the product inside when you come to sit closer. âScooping it out is easy, here, weâll use my clean tool-âÂ
You watch him pull out a little yellow, glass wiggly stick with a hand on one end, and a point on the other.
The butter is scooped up easily, gently sticking itself to the glass tool in a way that shatter could never-Â
âSo Iâll heat up the banger again, and we donât have to rush it or anything- the glass stays hot, so, Iâll hold it up for you and yeah-â Mark rambles off while he gets the torch going, and his eyes are fixed on his task. âWhen you breathe in, we use the flat hand part of the tool overtop of the banger to help you inhale easier- and the most important part, is  just remember,â he looks up at you with a smile, âAll of this is legal in Canada.âÂ
âYouâre cute,â you grin, unable to help yourself from verbalizing the comment that so often passes through your thoughts during your dealings with Mark lee.Â
Heâs visibly taken aback by your comment, lips parting, ears turning pink-
And youâre quick to rectify yourself, âI mean- thatâs funny. Itâs cute when youâre funny- I mean, youâre funny when youâre Canadian- so I guess, youâre cute when youâre Canadian, and youâre always Canadian so just⌠take the compliment-â you groan, âJeez, Iâm not even high yet-â
 Mark laughs, shaking his head and looking down as he flicks off the torch.
âOkay, are you ready?â he asks, adjusting the dab rig on his left palm, the mouth piece presented to you while he holds the buttered tool in his right hand.Â
âYes,â you respond, leaning forward, briefly looking down at the way your knees press together- painfully aware of the stonerâs thighs unintentionally caging you in-
âLet out a deep breath,â Mark instructs, âand when youâre ready, bring your mouth to the mouthpiece to breathe in, I'll do the rest.âÂ
You hold eye contact with Mark while you follow the instruction, bringing your lips to the rig as he lowers the yellow glass wrapped in buttered weed into the banger.
âBreathe in,â he says calmly, and you canât help but reach out a hand, gently placing your fingers on his left forearm to steady yourself whilst you inhale the driest air ever-Â
You canât help but close your eyes and you see Mark quickly adjust the tool in between his fingers, the flat hand coming atop the banger- suddenly, breathing in is a little harder-
âOkay,â the rig is pulled away from your mouth, âyou got it all-â
You quickly release the cloud of smoke youâd just inhaled.Â
At first, youâre struck by the sensation of being hot. Then your throat is constricted, tightening- like youâre being choked, and you let out a gasp-
âWater- hereâs the water-â Mark Leeâs voice is in the periphery of your awareness, and something is placed in your right hand- âstraw-â something touches your lips and you recougnize the plastic- sucking at it-
The feeling of cold water streaming down your throat allows you to breathe again, and you take a struggled gasp-
âThatâs it-â you feel the bed dip next to you and a hand rubbing at your back- which helps you ground yourself as you get your breathing right- coughing roughly-
âYou gave her too much,â Hyuck calls distantly, and the rubbing at your back intensifies.Â
âIâm ok!â you insist weakly, eyes still closed, body overwhelmed by sensations- âI just gotta-â you choke again and take another sip of your water-
Things are slowly starting to be less hot, and youâre able to take a better breath-
A tingly sensation begins in the tips of your fingers, and you let out a small sound-
The hand on your back removes itself, and you have the brilliant idea of laying down, head swirling in an eyes closed darkness as you flop yourself backwards onto the bed, letting out a sigh-
âYouâre gonna feel real good now,â Hyuckâs laughter is delightful, and it makes you laugh too, enjoying the feeling of being enwrapped by- air?
âYour water is still in your hand if you need it,â Markâs soft reminder makes warmth spread through your chest, and a moment later the bed dips again, signalling the Canadian has left your side-
But you donât want him to go.
So you open your eyes for the first time since taking your dab, and are shocked to find your vision at first blurred by tears-
You blink them away-
âFuck are you okay?â Markâs in front of you again, sitting in his gaming chair, a look of concern on his face.
âIâm okay,â you tell him, shocked by the sound - by the feeling - of your own voice. Things feel fuzzy when you lift a hand to wipe away the tear track- âI think I coughed up a lung.â
Beyond Mark, Hyuck has sat up. âAt least youâre pretty when you cry.â
Of course he has a dacriphilia kink-
âIgnore him,â Mark says, âhere,â and then heâs reaching out, cupping the side your cheek and brushing his thumb against your skin, brushing away the tears youâd missed when youâd dragged your own hand across your face.Â
You watch Mark, holding your breath- entire body focused on the warmth of his palm- and then his hand is pulling away and youâre missing him again.Â
âYou good?â Mark asks- and you realize youâve just zoned out a little while staring at his pretty brown eyes and kissable lips-
You swallow thickly and nod, the weightless feeling returning when you pull your gaze from the Canadian to look around the room.Â
Itâs a pretty standard frat house bedroom- but itâs unique to the two men who live in it. Haechanâs side is messier, which doesnât come as much of a shock. His walls are covered in layered posters of all sorts of things- video games, cars, women, movies-
âWe should watch a scary movie.â
Two pairs of eyes swing to you, then Hyuck and Mark exchange a glance-
âIâm not too great with horror movies, if Iâm being honest-â Mark admits, setting a dab of butter down in favour of rubbing the back of his neck with a hand.
âBut we could watch something scary-â Hyuck says, âI could grab Jeno-â
âNo-â youâre quick to shut the idea down, âIâm sure Jenoâs busy- and I want Mark to stay-â
âEven if Jenoâs busy, heâd come watch something,â Hyuck tells you.Â
âWhatâs with everyone and Jeno tonight?â you ask in exasperation. âFirst Jungwoo- now you-â
Markâs eyes widen. âJungwoo was trying to set you up with Jeno too?âÂ
âSo you are trying to set me up with Jeno!âÂ
âThe dude has a massive crush on you-â Hyuck says- realizing his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth.
You groan. âWeâre not that close-âÂ
âYou donât have to be that close to someone to see their value,â Mark notes thoughtfully, turning the torch on to begin to heat the dab banger.Â
âYeah but it sounds like she doesnât see Jenoâs,â Hyuck snickers.
âMaybe heâs not my type,â you suggest, heart thumping loudly in your chest at the turn this conversion has taken-
But luckily- instead of asking for a description of your type, Hyuck simply says âJeno is everyoneâs typeâ and lays back down with a groan.Â
Your eyes find Mark, and the two of you exchange a glance and knowing smile, then Mark returns his attention to the dab rig.Â
âBy the way-â you find yourself saying, âI donât mean to intrude- if you guys need to kick me out to sleep-â
âNah,â Mark is quick to shake his head, âyouâre good, Hyuckâs bed time is three am.â
âHavenât even had dinner yet,â the younger of the roommate stoners agrees.Â
âYou should eat then,â you suggest, looking at the pretty man lying on his bed while Mark takes a hit from the rig.
âWho are you, my mom?â Hyuck scoffs loudly- only for both of your attentionâs to be captured by the coughing Canadian-Â
âWater-â you say, handing the bottle to him-
âIâll grab something to eat in a bit,â Hyuck says, standing up from his bed, âafter another hit.â
You watch with a smile as Hyuck forces a very blatantly high Mark out of the gaming seat, and the stoner joins you on the bed, lids droopy, grin dopey-
âYou okay?â you ask when Mark sways slightly-
He nods. âMâ perfect.â
âMarkâs a dopey stoner,â Hyuck states, which earns him the grand reaction of: Mark slowly and gently pushing at his leg and muttering âheyâ meekly.
âI like the vibes of dopey stoners,â you retort, feeling the need to defend the very soft boy sitting next to you.
âAnd dopey stoners must just love you-â Hyuck sighs, âJungwoo, Jeno-â he takes a hit from his rig, letting out a big puff of smoke a moment later, âMilk-â
âMilk?â you ask.
Hyuck points at Mark with a lazy grin, repeating the word âmilkâ with an emphasis on the K.Â
âOkay!â Mark stands up suddenly, âtime for another dab!â
âYeah- dopey stoners think youâre the greatest,â Hyuck concludes with a sly smirk before he belly flops onto his bed again, grabbing at his phone-
The music plays louder, and you donât mind.Â
Your attention shifts to Mark while he gets another dab ready, and you enjoy the pinkish tint to his ears. He really is the cutest little stoner-
âDo you want another hit before I do mine?â Mark asks. âIâm probably going to take enough to just- lay back and look at the ceiling for a bit-â
âThat sounds nice,â you smile.
âDope,â the Canadian adjusts the amount of butter he scoops with the tool, taking substantially less for you than he would for himself.Â
He repeats the process he had before, and within no time at all, youâre once again getting prepped to take a hit.
âBreathe out,â Markâs calming instructions arenât needed, but theyâre welcome all the same. âAnd when youâre readyâŚâÂ
Youâre very aware of his gaze on your lips when you take the hit, and Mark helps you clear the smoke like last time, pulling the rig from you with a âdoneâ when youâve inhaled all there is to inhale.
This time, you cough through your release of the smoke- itâs more painful, your lungs and throat constricting- but when you take a sip of water, it helps, taking away the choking feeling to leave you with nothing but warmth.
You lay down softly on Markâs bed with a hum of affirmation, and a moment later, you hear the torch fire up again.Â
Itâs nice to just- let yourself drift away for a bit.
Youâre in a good place, with two people who - all things considered on Hyuckâs end - are safe.
You can just exist for a while, with no stress.
Life is nice.
Life is happy-
The bed dips and you feel Mark Lee lay down next to you, a small sigh of relief just audible over the music.Â
It feels so good to be with people like this.Â
Simply existing-
âMaybe I do need food,â Hyuck says suddenly.
Both you and Mark lift your heads to watch the younger frat boy get off the bed and go to the door.Â
âWhere are you going?â Mark calls.
âMcdonalds- maybe the kitchen-â Hyuck considers it for a moment, âwho knows.âÂ
He closes the door behind him when heâs gone and Mark laughs, leaning back against the bed and letting out a sigh. Then he turns to you. âAre you comfortable?â
âWe could lay down on the bed properly instead of with our knees bent off the side like this,â you suggest.Â
Mark swallows. âDo you- uh, do you want to be against the wall or-â his skin flushes that pretty pink shade, âI mean- I dont want you to feel trapped- against- against the wall- cuz-â
You giggle a little at the man whoâs now motioning with his hands, trying to visually show you what heâs not able to communicate so well with his words-
âCuz when you lay down-âÂ
You place your hand on his forearm again, and heâs quick to stop speaking, giving you his attention.
âHow about you just sit up, Iâll get comfortable and you can do whatever after?â
âGood idea,â he nods, following through and giving you the space to lay down properly on his small, twin sized bed.Â
You turn so your back is to the wall, and then you let out a contented sigh, snuggling against one of Markâs pillows. âOkay, you can come now.âÂ
It takes you a second to see the second meaning of your words, and you realize that while high, youâve fallen into the same trap as Mark had earlier when heâd gotten flustered about having you against the wall.Â
âAre you gonna lay on your side like that?â Mark asks, looking down at you.
You can tell from the flush of his skin that heâd heard the double entendre in the statement âyou can come nowâ, and itâs affected him the same way itâs flustered you.Â
âYeah-â you blink, âis that okay?â
âYeah,â the frat boy mirrors your position, adjusting his own pillow before meeting your eyes. âIs this okay?â
âUh huh,â you smile.Â
âCan I tell you something?â
âYou can tell me anything, Milk.âÂ
You enjoy the gentle little grin- the way he averts his eyes at the teasing nickname.
âYou know how, earlier,â - Mark swallows to compose himself - âyou said that Jungwoo canât keep his mouth shut about anything?â
âUh oh-â
âTrust me itâs not bad-â
âIt better not be-â you groan, already moving to cover your face with the pillow- âWhat did he say?â
âJust that- hey, take that away for a sec-â he tugs at the thing shielding him from seeing the embarrassment on your face, because you know where this is going-
Maybe youâre just paranoid from the weed- maybe heâs not about to tell you that your best friend spilled his guts about your crush on him-
âSeriously-â Mark laughs, âcome on- you said I could tell you anything, right?â
You sigh, moving away the pillow.Â
âThere we go,â he smiles. âLook- I was with Jungwoo, one on one-â
âYou were cuddling, werenât you?â you tease immediately- knowing exactly how Jungwoo gets when a little drunk and cuddled- heâll spill all the secrets-
âMaybe we were cuddlingâŚâ - Markâs cheeks flare with colour - âbut I asked about you and Jeno- you know Jeno has a thing for you- and Jungwoo just kind of let it slip that you only have a thing for Leeâs that come in pairs-â
âHe said what?!â you bolt upright in shock, eyes widening-
This is so much worse than you could have imagined-
âYeah, I thought it was weird at first too- and, he told me to forget about it- but, I mean,â Mark sits up, clearing his throat before he concludes, âthe only Leeâs that really come in a pair are me and Hyuck, cuz weâre roommates.â
âMark, I-â you bite at your tongue, âIâm not sure what to say-â
âYou donât have to say anything-â Mark assures you, âI guess- could I ask you something?â
âGo for it.â
âI canât speak for Haechan- but,â the Canadian wets his lips with that anxious tongue of his, âI mean, I know Iâm interested- and I guess Iâm trying to figure out if the whole line about âLeeâs that come in pairsâ means youâre a threesome kind of person or-â
âWhat are we talking about in here?â Hyuck asks as he barges into the room again, a bag of chips in hand.Â
After recent hits of a dab rig, and being already struck by this interaction with Mark- Hyuckâs sudden reapperance makes you short circut, and you sit there, blinking at the man staring you down-
âGod, how high are you fuckers?â Haechan is quick to close and lock the door behind him, and a moment later heâs pulling up beside Markâs bed, seated in the gaming chair. âIs one of you going to say something?â
Hyuck is really pretty too, actually-
âI heard the word threesome-â he says, looking between you and Mark like a detective-
âJungwoo told Mark I only like âLeeâs that come in pairsâ because you guys are roommates, and Mark was just saying heâd be down to fuck me-âÂ
The man sitting next to you gasps in shock- âWhat? I didnât say-âÂ
âYou said youâd be interested,â you correct yourself, âsame thing.âÂ
âThatâs a super oversimplified retelling of events-â Mark insists-
âJesus Mark, what are you, an English Major?â Hyuck laughs, âa âsuper oversimplified retelling-â dude, itâs Halloween, and Jungwooâs hot best friend is propositioning us-â
âMark propositioned me by bringing it up-â you correct.
âRight-â Hyuck nods, turning to his friend with a grin, âNice going, Milk.âÂ
The stoned music theory student blinks. âThanks?â
âSo,â the younger of the two focuses his attention on you again, âyou only like Leeâs that come in pairs, huh?â
Your mouth suddenly feels dry, and you choke a little before sipping at your water, clearing your throat before responding in a similar way to Mark- with a confused, âYes?â
âYou guys act like these are hard questions,â - you hate it when Hyuck laughs at you, because he shouldnât be this pretty while chuckling at your expense - âIâll make it easy on everyone. Do either of you think youâre too high to make decisions?â
After a quick glance at Mark, both of you shake your heads.
Hyuck eyes you both- gaze lingering on your red costume. âSo youâre both good?â
This time, itâs a nod, and it makes the gemini grin, shifting closer to the bed.Â
âAnd if I take another hit, then go down on the devil-â his hand strokes your thigh, âthatâs okay too, yeah?â
âYes please-â you breathe, shocked at how fucking suave Hyuck can be, utilizing your costume in a pickup line and everything-Â
âYou should give Markie some attention first, though-â the geminiâs tone quickly shifts, and the Canadian next to you letâs out an annoyed sound at the nickname- shifting in a way that has Hyuck scattering to the table for his dab like the mischievous gremlin he is.Â
Then Mark turns to you- lips parting to say something-
But you cut him off with a kiss before a word can leave his mouth-Â
Because Hyuck is right. If heâs going to get to eat you out in a moment- the least you can do is get a taste of Mark first.Â
While sitting side by side doesnt make for the easiest position to kiss the pretty frat boy, it only takes Mark reciprocating for a few seconds before you decide to swing your leg over his hips and straddle him instead.Â
Mark letâs out a small groan, his hands finding your hips, âIs this really happening?âÂ
You laugh, grinding down against him- and the feeling of his cock pressing hard against the confines of his jeans has you letting out a happy sound next. âYes- Mark, this is really happening,â you assure him.Â
âI love how heâs the one acting shocked when heâs the one who propositioned us.â
âI didnât proposition you-â Mark groans, looking past your shoulder at the man turning on the torch to heat the banger. Â
âSure you didnât.â
âMark?â you nip at his earlobe and the man beneath you shudders, fingers flexing against your hips. âArenât you going to pay attention to me instead of arguing with Hyuck?â
âYeah, Mark.âÂ
With a groan of annoyance, the elder Lee cups your jaw, bringing your mouth to his again.Â
The kiss is deeper this time, his tongue swiping across your lower lip before teasing past your teeth. His hands shift you on his hips, forcing you down while he pushes up-
You release a groan of pleasure, tanging one hand in his hair while the other grabs at the jersey keeping his body from you-
But you can feel the muscle under your fingers- and youâre reminded that Markâs costume isnât really a costume at all; itâs his own jersey.
He might look and act like a sweetheart, but this guy is a frat boy hockey player-
You hear Hyuck exhale at the same time you feel his breath against the back of your neck, and when you pull away from kissing Mark to open your eyes, you see that the youngest Lee has taken it upon himself to create a dab cloud around your bodies-
âDude-â Mark groans from below you, immediately waving a hand to clear some of the air-
âWhat?â Hyuck plays innocent even while caging you against Mark, his lips teasing past your throat- âYou guys looked like you were having so much fun- I got eager to join.âÂ
This feels like a partial truth. Hyuckâs hands are certainly eager as they play with the fabric of your shirt, but you have no doubt he could have exhaled his smoke out the window before coming to join on the bed.Â
âLook- I had a great idea,â Hyuck insists, nosing at your jaw. âCome on- someone ask me what the idea is.â
Mark takes the bait with a sigh; âWhatâs the idea?âÂ
âWell I was thinking,â - Hyuck begins to slide your shirt up your torso - âseeing as our little kitten likes both of us so much- she might enjoy having you in her mouth while I eat her out.â
The idea has your pussy throbbing with need-
âAre you into butt stuff, baby?â Hyuck asks as he pulls your shirt off. âGonna get on your knees and suck on Mark while I lick this pretty pussy-â he slips a hand between your legs, âbut youâll let me fuck with your ass too, yeah? Youâre besties with Jungwoo, so I assume you know all about butt stuff-â
âOh my god-â you groan-
You feel like maybe you should defend your friend a little- but this is what you get for being besties with a known ass eater-
âTell me Iâm wrong,â Hyuck prompts, and you feel him grin against your throat before he licks a stripe of your skin happily, âthatâs what I thought.âÂ
âFuck-â you whimper at the feeling of being caged in between two of the hottest guys on campus, and you canât help but be greedy, hand seeking out the front of Markâs pants-
âShit-â now itâs Markâs turn to cuss as you cup at him through his jeans, outlining the hard cock pressing against itâs confines-
âAw, youâre both feeling pretty sensitive, huh?â Hyuck chuckles; âCute.â
Mark cups your face, bringing your lips to his for a fevered kiss while he grinds forward, rutting against your hand-
âTake this off-â you groan, tugging on Markâs jersey- breaking your kiss with him in favour of turning your head to the side-
Hyuck picks up on your motion and meets you half way, shifting behind you- his hand leaves your pussy to press two fingers to your jaw, helping you turn so your lips can finally meet-
The grip on your jaw intensifies and Haechan groans, mouth opening, tongue tasting past your own-
And you can feel Mark removing his shirt, his hands finding your hips to alert you when the task is complete, and a moment later, heâs pressing open mouthed kisses to your throat-
It feels amazing to be needed.
Hands are everywhere, Hyuck and Mark playing a tug of war like game with your body and attention.
Despite Hyuck being a fabulous kisser, now that Markâs shirtless, youâre more than eager to get to work, to get your mouth on Mark-
To get Hyuckâs mouth on you.Â
Breaking the kiss with Hyuck makes the man behind you groan, but as you lean in to worship Markâs chest, and begin your descent, Hyuckâs mouth finds your shoulder, and you know heâs about to embark on a similar trajectory-Â
Youâre struck by Markâs body, and you canât help but trace the lines of muscle on his abdomen while dragging your tongue across his pectoral-
Mark shivers when you brush by his nipple, and you canât help but giggle, triggering Hyuck into a chuckle too- âI forgot Mark has sensitive tits.â
âHey-â
You enjoy the banter between the two of them, it takes some of the pressure off while you work on undoing Markâs fly-
âWhat else is sensitive, Mark?â you toy, hooking your fingers in the waistband of his jeans to shimmy them down-
âHoly shit-âÂ
âYou can say that again,â Hyuck breathes from behind you, and he grabs at your ass, squeezing it- âAre you into pain?â
Youâre aware that heâs asking if youâre up to be spanked, but the way heâs phrased the question- âare you into pain-â it has your toes curling with sinful delight.Â
âYes- Hyuck- please-âÂ
Even though youâve already undone Markâs jeans, and are working on getting them down- Hyuck tears your own pants down your legs in record time, and youâre the first person to be bare to the room.
The impact on your ass comes immediately after, the sting of skin on skin contact making you jolt, a gasp tumbling out of you.Â
âYeah- of course youâre into pain,â Hyuck says smoothly, brushing over your stinging skin with newfound gentleness- âI always knew you would be-â
âAlways?â Mark gasps when you finally get his briefs down, his cock springing to attention by his abdomen-
âUh huh, always,â Hyuck confirms, and you feel the bed shifting behind you- then his hot breath fans across your entrance, making you twitch-
âEven though you were trying to set her up with Jeno until like- twenty minutes ago?â Mark asks, stuttering a little over his words when you grab the base of his cock-.Â
âOh, so I canât be a good friend and a dirty fuck at the same time?â the gemini counters, spreading your ass cheeks with two hands before kitten licking at your folds-
âHyuck-â you gasp, arching your back in an effort to push your pussy closer to his face while you wrap your mouth around Mark-
âFuck-â hands brush the hair out of your face, and you enjoy the soft touch-
Itâs hard to know where to focus- on your worship of Mark, or Hyuckâs worship of you- his tongue pressing into your hole-
âFeels so good-â Mark breathes from above you as you bob your head on his length.Â
It does.Â
Thereâs nothing like the feeling of having both Mark and Hyuck-Â
To please while being pleased-
Lips suction around your clit and you whine, mirroring the motion by suckling on the head of Markâs cock, which earns a groan from him too-
âOh my god-â Markâs noises are having a growing impact on you- the way his voice dips, the way he continues to help you with your hair, warm, gentle hands guiding your head-
Hyuckâs tongue leaves your pussy in favour of burrying two fingers into you, and you moan louder around the cock in your mouth.Â
âFuck- look at you kitten- such a pretty little cock whore for Mark-â Hyuck groans, âand squeezing my fingers so good when I call you names- you were made for this, huh? Made to be fucked?â
You're delirious with need, and with your mouth stuffed, all you can do is make whimpery noises of affirmation while your pussy squelches from Hyuckâs fingers and words.Â
âDude-âÂ
âWhat, Mark?â Hyuck toys, but you already know what Markâs going to say-
Because the same thought is running through your head-
âIf you keep dirty talking- weâre going to cum way too quick-â
âYeah?â Hyuck laughs. âIf you want me to stop, youâll have to beg for me to stop, Mark.âÂ
He-
âYeah, I didnât think so.â Hot breath fans across your pussy again, and Hyuckâs mouth is on you a moment later, tongue flicking at your clit-
âFuck-â Mark groans, hips jolting when you suck on him harder-Â
Then Hyuckâs wet muscle is at your other hole, and the feeling of a wet stripe being licked around your ass has you tingling with a foreign type of pleasure-
âThatâs it,â Hyuck grunts behind you, and you hear him spit before you feel it land on your skin, quickly collected by a finger that he easily dips past your tight ring of muscle- ârelax for me, baby.â
You pull your mouth off of Mark to take a breather, wrapping your hand around his cock to languidly stroke him while Hyuck works a digit in and out of you.Â
Markâs breathing gets a little steadier too, but your attention is keeping him on edge, keeping him flooded with just enough pleasure-
âFuck, your ass is so fucking nice-â Hyuckâs spare hand lands on your skin again, making you gasp in surprise- and you push your hips back, eager for more.
âYou like that, baby?â Hyuck prompts, adding another finger. âLike having me knuckles deep in your ass while you edge Mark like a little fucking devil?â he grabs the backstrap of your red bra, pulling it back so when itâs released, it slaps to your skin, another hit of pain that has your toes curling.Â
âGod, I love it so much-â you whimper, closing your eyes and nestling in against Markâs thigh, continuing to work your hand up and down his hard length-
âYeah? Should I make you cum like this?â Hyuck asks, âOr are you gonna be nice to Mark and let us fuck you now?âÂ
âFuck-â Mark groans above you- âI can- I can wait- make her cum-â
âDonât mind if I do,â Hyuckâs mouth is on your clit a second later, two fingers continuing to work open your ass while he tongue fucks your pussy-Â
âHoly shit-â you whimper, clenching your eyes shut-
âCum for us- you can do it, cum,â Markâs soft voice gives you something like whiplash given the situation, and the soft graze of his fingers past your cheek feels just domestic enough to throw you over the edge.
The sound that leaves you as you cum is practically primal- a cross between a whine and a moan that only gets louder as Hyuck works you through your orgasm, his mouth unrelenting on your core, fingers buried in your ass-
Waves of wonderful, warm, sensation wash over you-
As you start to come down, Hyuckâs tongue leaves your clit, but his digits continue in your hole- âWas that good, kitten?â he practically purrs. âAnd now that Iâve stretched you out- youâll let me fuck you, right?â his lips tease your asscheek, and he bites at you gently, letting out a growl. âLet me fuck you in the ass while you give Mark a taste of this perfect fucking pussy-â
âPlease-âÂ
âThatâs our girl-â Hyuck breathes, finally relenting behind you. âYou two should get naked- itâs gonna take me a sec⌠and Iâm going to have another hit, are you guys good?â
âIâm good,â Mark says, âwanna remember all of this-â
âTrust me, Iâm planning on remembering this too-â Hyuck laughs, âjust- magnified. You want anything, kitten?â his hand gently taps by your ass.
Like Mark, you say no, already too focused on the Canadian laying down and kicking off his jeans-Â
âYou donât want anything?â the man whoâs gotten off the bed continues to press- ânot even like- a condom?â
Youâre already practically mounting Mark now- and the two of you stop momentarily, eyes meeting- then youâre laughing because âout of the two of you, I had not expected Hyuck to be the one reminding us about protection-â
âYeah, sorry-â the frat boy below you says, âI was gonna ask- Iâm clean-âÂ
âAnd Iâm on the pill,â you assure him, grabbing Markâs face so you can press your lips to his own.Â
His cock is caught between your bodies, and your rub your pussy against him, satisfied that heâs still a little lubed by left over spit from when youâd had him in your mouth-Â
Itâs as simple as reaching a hand between your bodies and lining him up with your entrance, then you sink down on him, earning a groan that you eat up-
Hyuck letâs out a whistle, âFuck, this is so hot-â and you hear the torch turn on.
Heâs watching you ride his best friend while he heats up his rig to take a dab.
âCan we take this off?â Mark asks, tugging at your bra- the one thing youâd forgotten to remove before straddling him.Â
âYes- anything you want-â you tell him, moving your lips to his neck while he undoes the clasp by your spine. The fabric falls to the side a moment later, and then youâre sitting up and tossing it away, giving Mark complete access to your boobs.
âFuuuuuuuck-â Mark groans, swallowing thickly as his gaze drags across each strip of newly exposed skin- âyouâre so pretty-â
âYou think?â you ask, grabbing one of the hands on your hips so you can raise it to your breast-
His palm is warm, his hand much larger than your own, and his fingers instinctively knead at your flesh, earning a groan from both you and Mark-
Then Markâs eyes shift past your shoulder- âHaechan, I swear to god-â
But itâs too late, youâre already being breathed on by the worldâs most annoying frat boy wanna-be smoke machine-
âIâm a dragon.â
Scratch that- the worldâs most annoying frat boy wanna be - mother fucking - dragon.
âOh my Jesus,â Mark mutters bellow you, shaking his head before burying it in your chest, lips latching onto your nipple.
You tangle your hands in Markâs hair while Hyuck adjusts behind you, pressing a few kisses of his own to your neck, even suckling on your sweet spot. Then, thereâs pressure between your shoulder blades, and Hyuck helps you and Mark back down to the pillows before turning his attention to your newly displayed ass.Â
âDo you think you can fit me?â Hyuck questions, one hand settling on your hip to keep you still on Mark, while the other returns two spit lubed digits to your hole.Â
You groan at the feeling of Mark in your pussy and Hyuckâs fingers in your ass, and youâre quick to nod. âI can take you-â
âYeah you can,â Hyuck echoes your sentiment happily, scissoring his digits a few times before pulling them out. âStay still for me, just gotta get some lube and then Iâll slip into you, okay?â
Markâs lips are on yours, and you make a sound of affirmation for Hyuck, allowing yourself to get lost in the Canadian while patiently awaiting his roommate-
Youâre not sure what you were expecting- but it had definitely been substantially smaller than the feeling of the head of the cock that presses against your ass, and the shock at Hyuck being big has you tensing up-
âYou okay?â Markâs quick to break your kiss in favor of checking on you, his hands smoothing up and down your sides soothingly.
âYeah-â you groan, âItâs just-â
âIf you donât think you can take me- I can stop-â Hyuck is next to reassure you, and the fact that theyâre both being considerate and slow about this has a new wave of wetness flooding through your core.Â
âI can- just-â you rest your head against the crook of Markâs neck, trying to relax- âcan you say some nice things to me?â
âNice things?â Mark lets out a small laugh- âFuck- youâre so cute-â
âShe is,â Hyuck agrees. âOur cute little baby,â his warm palm glides over the rump of your ass, and he pushes into you a little more- âthatâs it-âÂ
âYou feel so good,â Mark says, turning his head a little so he can brush his mouth by your ear, prompting you to come out of your hiding spot by his throat. âAnd these lips-â
Kissing Mark is as easy as breathing.Â
Before you know it, Hyuckâs hips are flush to your ass, and you feel what itâs like to be truly, completely, full.Â
âFeels good?â Hyuck double checks on you as he takes a test thrust, his hands settling on your waist.
âSo good-â you confirm, and from the sounds Mark is making, you can tell he feels just as good as you do.Â
âFuck-â the man behind you cusses. âMaybe taking a hit wasnât a good idea-â
âWhy?â
âYou literally feel-â you hear him swallow thickly, and he fucks you harder when he says the word âinsane.â
âLike-â Hyuck continues, âI could fuck you forever- but also, not forever, cuz you feel so good- youâre obviously gonna make me and Mark cum stupidly fast-â
âI am?âÂ
âYeah-â Hyuck practically purrs, and Mark lets out his own groan of affirmation. âOur good little cock slut, making us cum so fast-â
âAnd youâre gonna cum for us too, right?â Markâs lips are on your neck, breath hot against your skin. âYou sound so perfect when youâre about to cum-â
âMark-â your hands are braced against his chest, and you can feel the two fratboys everywhere whilst being caged between them-
Heâs right; youâre so close to cumming you can almost taste it- can feel the cry of pleasure building in the back of your throat-
âJust like that-â Hyuck groans behind you, hips moving erratically- âjust like that-â
Two sets of hands manuver your body, lifting you up and down on Markâs cock while also keeping you in a good spot for Hyuck- whose hand comes down sharply onto your ass-
âIâm-â the word comes out choked, and you canât even finish your sentence, your body clamping down on both intrusions, entire form flooded with pleasure-
âFuck-â fingers dig into your waist and Hyuck presses himself flush to your ass-
âGod-â Markâs also twitching beneath you, hips continuing to rut up, pushed on by adrenaline-
âTake it-â Hyuck mutters- âtake it, take it, take it-â
Mark groans loudly at the idea of you taking their cum- and he shivers with an aftershock of euphoria, heart racing loudly in his chest. His lips seak out yours, and he enjoys the way you let out strangles gasps, just as breathless as him.Â
Things slowly come to a stop, with Hyuckâs hands settling on your hips while Mark kisses you, and for a little while, you simply stay that way.
Then Hyuck lets out a groan, pulling out of your ass.Â
âFucking hell-â he says breathlessly, and you hear him swallow, still catching his breath. âMessy kitty.â
You can feel his cum dripping out of your ass already, and Mark must feel it too, because heâs the next to grunt, adjusting you on his hips- âseriously dude?âÂ
âYeah yeah, Iâll grab a fucking cloth-â the bed dips as Hyuck moves away, and you allow yourself to relax against Markâs chest in the few seconds it takes for the younger Lee to return with a wetcloth to wipe away his cum.
âYour turn.âÂ
Hyuck puts the cloth on Markâs leg when heâs done with it, and the man beneath you groans in annoyance before asking you, âcan I get you on your back?â
One nod has Mark flipping you, pressing you into the mattress briefly before lifting his weight off of you completely, cock slipping out of your core-
The wet towel is swiping across your entrance a moment later, and you relax against the pillows, enjoying the simple aftercleaning-
âYou gonna stay here tonight?â Mark asks, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee that has you opening your eyes to look at him again.
âCan i?â
Mark laughs, âOf course-â
And Hyuck grins from the gamer chair, his dab rig tool already loaded up and ready to go- âAs if weâd fuck you then kick you out-â he chuckles, shaking his head. When he looks up at you again, thereâs a fondness in his eyes thatâs unmissable. âNow you just gotta decide whoâs bed youâre sleeping in.â
Oh, first-world problems.
â thanks for reading :)
â Please find the teaser for the accompanying patreon exclusive extension bonus of this fic below :)
Patreon Bonus Details
â [synopsis]:Â a month or two after your first fuckfest, you're getting settled into dating Mark and Hyuck
â [warnings]: threesome, oral (f/m receiving), fingering, praise, degradation, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected sex, jealousy, etcâŚ
â [word count]:Â 2.2k - 200 shown in teaser
Jungwoo feels bad for Jeno.
As the men square up for an impromptu snow ball fight, spurred on by cold weather, there feels to be something like a hole in the team-
Or at least, Jungwoo can feel the incompletion of his friend group; Mark and Hyuck have been increasingly distant, spending more and more time with you, their new girlfriend.
So, in a way, Jungwoo has lost something too, although, itâs much easier for him to join you on a night with your boyfriends than it is for Jeno, who is still holding obvious feelings for you-
In Jungwooâs periphery, a frat house window opens, and the massive cloud of smoke released is yet another reminder of the two men choosing to skip the frat fun in favour of fuck time-
âFucking Haechan-â On Jungwooâs other side, Jeno throws a snowball.
Jungwoo doesnât feel so bad for Jeno when the snowball lands its mark- but Jungwoo does feel bad for the fact that, as far as he could tell, it hadnât been Hyuck at the window.
â To read the full bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here
â or check out what else is on my patreon in the masterlist here
â if you enjoyed my work, and canât become a Patron, but would still like to support me,  please consider sending me a tip for my work through here or here :)
â m.list
Š smileysuh â all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any fic, reaction, or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed
General Taglist:
@jjinyounf - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling - @runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae - @anothershorthuman - @nihxxy - @poutypoutybin -  @thatoneidolsthiccbitch -  @vantxx95 -  @bangshii - @notbeforelong - @ninetechculture - @yungiland - @suhsfam - @chogiwapadada - @librarian-stacks - @meowniee - @binchangf - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling - @gigilameâ  - @cumtrov3rsy - @mocha000â - @darthlunaaâ
NCT Taglist:
@milkyway-vxmâ - @nctsawrusâ - @shiningdery @ashes-onfire - @freezerandfame - @fairieblog - @fairybr3adâ - @sehunniepotââ
Thanks to those who interacted with the teaser :)
@dreamies-world-domination - @shmoooooâ - @theworld-accordingtocasey - @thebubsz - @studywithpeach - @idontknowwhatonamethisblog - @darthlunaa - @darthamiraâ - @jamaljeong - @roseyposeyscorner - @drm-jn - @jiyoonsstuff - @vnti-vnxiety - @idonotknowbutidonotcareâ - @pockygorlâ - @thefvllsunâ - @sunpopzâ - @sadisticfriesâ - @angelwonieâ - @itsrcpierce - @secretninja312 - @sasslevel1001 - @1800-markâ - @haechanahceaah - @starstruckshieldagent - @bimb0beee - @thisbabydontstopâ - @offclnctâ - @jaeminsbebuâ - @jiminieevmiâ - - @jenoxygenâ - @cutefreakâ - @taeiltellerâ - @btsjiminiâ - @itsmeasâ - @ashtsskâ - @finmlsâ - @shyballoonalpacanx - @glitching-wrenâ - @jaeminhyuckiiiâ - @haechanswhoresâ - @markiepoosâ - @harrypinksâ - @cb97xâ - @niryâ - @bluespinelâ - @sunshinedhyuckâ - @strawberry-artiniâ - @blondiedaeâ - @peachesandkiliâ - @hyuckscoreâ - @tenmonthsjayâ - @urdreamgirl03â - @yamaggukieâ - @nctwayvvvvâ - @caratzen-gwenâ - @jenoslutieâ - @moonlightzr - @count-your-shadowsââ - @mrkisâ - @natsbabymamaâ - @flashbangstarsâ - @cixrosieâ
1K notes
¡
View notes
WANTED U
18 + / mdi
summary: everything about your relationship with minghao was perfect, leaving you with no complaints. except maybe in one area; minghao's stoic attitude during sex, making you entirely insecure about whether he wanted you as bad as you did him, or if he was maybe just too in love with you to let you down.
content: misunderstandings, established relationship, he's very very in love with reader, he's just a bit backwards, smut, afab reader, miscommunication (shocker), oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, dry humping, mentions of fingering, etc.
wc: 5.7k
a/n: based kind of maybe a lil bit on personal experience but 100% reimagined for fanfic purposes lmao
masterlist
You were absolutely head over heels in love with your boyfriend. There was no way to fight it - not that you wanted to. It was as if his sole goal in life was to love you. He had even told you that before, claiming that his parents had been the greatest love story he had ever seen, and that he had wanted nothing more in life than to find a love like theirs. He'd said that his father had once told him, 'live to love, and love to live', advice which Minghao took to heart.
His father was a wise man when it came to love, even letting Minghao in on the secret that all his ambitions were driven by his love for his mother. Minghao had communicated their entire love story to you soon after meeting. You had only known each other for a short period of time before Minghao confessed to you, claiming that a friendship would not suffice for his heart, which had been taken by you upon your first meeting. He would've respected your decision if you had decided to remain friends, but was relieved to hear your enthusiastic agreement in becoming his girlfriend.
Being his girlfriend came with endless perks. For one, you got to be with the absolute love of your life; a man who was never shy to express his love to you through any means possible. He was also a successful idol, something that came with its troubles, but allowed you to see and support your boyfriend in all his passionate endeavors. He'd spend every free moment tending to you and showing you what it meant to be loved. There was no world in which you weren't completely enamored by the man.
You'd only been dating for four months by now. He had already introduced you to his friends and family, proudly letting them know that you'd be around for a long time, being completely certain that you were the love of his life. Sure, it might've been a bit soon, but the moment Minghao saw you, he knew you were the one. His certainty always made you a bit shy, a reaction which he'd kiss away by reassuring you that he'd never meet a love greater than yours. It was all perfect. You felt at home with his friends and family, quickly growing used to what would now be your forever family, as you also believed Minghao to be the one and only love you would ever come to know.
He showed you love through every means possible. He insisted on taking care of you financially, while also supporting your independent and professional endeavors. He took care of you emotionally, always lending an ear to listen to your problems and lips to soothe your worries. He'd constantly feed you with words of affirmation, almost as if he'd grow sick if he went a single day without you knowing how enamored he was. He'd make love to you ... and that was it on that matter.
Not to misunderstand, your sex life with Minghao was magnificent. There was no form of pleasure the man could not achieve to give you. He had you delirious with arousal with one single touch, making you beg even when he never demanded it from you. As many of his fans guessed, Minghao was just as experienced as he appeared. There was large variety of things he would entertain in the bedroom, never leaving you dissatisfied.
The issue laid in you, truly. Although you were always enthusiastic in the pleasure your boyfriend gave you, you weren't sure you could say it was the same for him. He would always shower you with endless praise and affection in every other circumstance, but while in the throes of passion the most you could really get out of him was a few muffled groans or one or two short-lived praises. You felt as if there was a imbalance in the pleasure you gave one another; almost as if he didn't want you as much as you did him.
You had recently realized that you were often the one to begin any sexual encounter, never having to beg for reciprocation, but also very rarely being enticed by the man himself. You almost felt embarrassed at the realization, having already been feeling a bit off at his lack of reactions towards you during the fact. Was he simply entertaining you out of pity? Did it not feel as good for him? Was he not into you physically as he was emotionally? You knew he always came when being intimate with you, always letting out a lone groan of your name when he finished. It was still hard to feel confident about your sex appeal when your boyfriend never gave you much to work with. You also felt a bit pathetic knowing he gave you the utmost pleasure while you seemingly gave him the barest minimum of it.
Talking to him about it was out of the question. You knew your boyfriend thrived off of healthy communication, but he hadn't mentioned any issues in your sex life, so you felt embarrassed to bring it up. Not only that, but you didn't want to come off as desperate or ungrateful. He was your best friend; the perfect boyfriend. You didn't want to open a can of worms that would have things go awry. So you decided to come up with a plan; maybe test your hypothesis.
Getting Minghao undressed and ready to fuck you was never too difficult. Just a few kisses and whispers asking him to please take care of you and he was ready to take charge. Currently you were in the middle of it, sitting on the couch as he kissed your neck, pulling breathy sighs out of you as you moaned his name, but received no reaction in return. You decided to act as usual, maybe gauge what got him going and what didn't. So far, he had spoken no words as he simply did what he knew you liked. He ran his hands through your body and kissed you deeply, drawing moans and whines out of you at the simplest of touches.
You felt a bit embarrassed, realizing how easy it was for him to get you going while it was the complete opposite for him. Now on the bed, he ground against you, still making no sound or any other indication of pleasure as he thrusted his hardness against you. You wondered how that felt for him. He was hard, so surely he was aroused, right? Shouldn't that equal some type of pleasurable reaction to the feeling? You weren't able to ponder on this for long, as he suddenly knelt next to bed, going straight to business against your heat.
'H-hao ... fuck!', you pulled at his hair, extremely sensitive to his touch as you usually were.
You couldn't help yourself in pulling at his hair, even grinding against his skilled tongue. You were completely lost to the bliss, moaning endlessly at the pleasure, unlike your boyfriend, whose only sounds were the slick of his tongue dragging against your pussy. If the tables were turned and Minghao was growing delirious on the feeling of your mouth on him, you'd be just as affected, getting off on the sound of his voice moaning out your name. So, you couldn't help but still feel disappointed at him eating you out with no further reaction.
However, the feeling of your orgasm overtook your disappointment, making you forget about any ill feelings and cumming against his tongue. What followed made you hollow out again, though.
He got up from his knelt position, nodding at you and asking a simple, 'ready?' before undoing his pants and climbing on top of you, entering you immediately after putting on a condom.
You moaned and whined against his ear, scratching at his back at the pleasure; all things you usually did when he fucked you, but received no reaction in return. He'd give you the occasional muffled grunt, not even seeming like he was holding back, but more like he had nothing to give. It was a conflicting feeling. On one hand, you felt an insane amount of physical pleasure, but on the other, your emotions couldn't help but feel hurt by his lack of arousal towards you. Call you shallow, but you just wanted to feel like your boyfriend found you sexy, damnit!
'F-fuck, Hao! Gonna cum, don't stop. Shit!', it was easy for him to get you there, knowing all your weak spots by now. And it was just as easy for your body to take control of your mind, making you forget all worries as you came once again. He didn't take long to reach you, releasing into the condom with a grunt.
What made it worse was how sweet he was afterwards, calling you his beautiful girl and helping you clean up, only to cuddle you afterwards.
'You okay, my love? Felt good?'
Now, to any reasonable person, this would've been the perfect chance to speak up, maybe let him know about your concerns, but you just felt too pathetic. What were you supposed to do? Force your boyfriend to moan? Force him to give you the reactions you wanted rather than the ones that came naturally from him? You were supposed to accept him as he was, just like he did you. So, you responded with evasion.
'Yes, baby. Felt amazing. Love you.'
You decided to go for a different approach this time.
Within the few months that you and Minghao had dated, you had really only spent a little under two months physically around each other. His job had a tendency of pulling him away from you for extended periods of time, so you were lucky if you ever got a whole week with him. This meant that the two of you would always try to make the best of the time you did get to spend together.
Within those two months of physical proximity, you two had a healthy sex life. You had sex for the first time only two weeks into the relationship, then proceeding to have it very regularly after that. Although, you were usually the one to initiate it.
In order to change things up, you decided to stop. You wanted to see how long it would take Minghao to approach you himself. Maybe gauge what it'd be like if you suddenly took it away. Would he react then? Would it feel better for him if you allowed a short period of time for things to mellow out?
The answer was no.
Only three days after your previous time having sex, he came home from dance practice, greeting you with a kiss. Except that instead of pulling away, he kept your lips connected, grabbing onto your waist to pull you close to him. Things went pretty much as usual after that. No words were exchanged (at least not from his side of things) as he undressed you and entered you while laying on the couch.
It was insanely pleasurable as per usual. His pace was slower than normal, and you heard a few more muffled grunts, which excited you like crazy.
'H-hao ...', you couldnt help but sigh as he angled himself perfectly to hit that sensitive spot inside you. You scratched at his back, arching your back against his chest.
He made no response, only going faster as he clearly realized your end was coming. He held you close to him, caressing your body tenderly despite the rapid movement of his hips. It was all perfect, sans the thing you wanted most; his lust for you. He cleaned you up afterwards, sheepishly apologizing for jumping you with no warning, giving you a quick peck as he said it. The conversation regarding sex ended there, with him expanding about his day and you yours. Had this been progress? You weren't sure.
Next attempt felt a bit pathetic.
You looked amazing. You needed no confirmation, you just knew it. You had bought a pretty lacy number, exactly in a style you knew your boyfriend would like. You hadn't had a chance so far to really dress up for him yet. So far, you had worn pretty panties and matching bras while being sexually active with him, but there had been no instance in which you really pulled out a whole set for him.
It felt a bit silly, resorting to perfectly trimmed lace in order to see if maybe your boyfriend would show some lust towards you. You even lit some candles, for god's sakes. This had to work, or else you'd feel like the biggest loser alive. You were a bit anxious, to be honest. You had never dressed up for a guy, but you'd heard it worked wonders in the bedroom. You knew the sex itself would be amazing, but you hoped that everything else also lived up to standard.
It wasn't long until you heard the keys unlock the door, which signaled that you should put into position. You had a matching silk robe, throwing it on as if to hide Hao's gift under a perfectly tied knot. He hadn't noticed you upon entering the room, having to do a double take to take notice of your pretty hair and makeup, way too fancy for an usual occasion.
'Love? W-what's with the look? You look beautiful', he approached you with a sweet smile, arms going directly to your waist
'Just wanted to do a little something for you, Hao. Do you like it?'
'Of course, angel. You look so pretty. Is there anything under the robe?', he lifted his eyebrow at you, hands playing with the knot.
'Find out?', you wanted to give him free rein, wanting to once more gauge his reaction. This was all for research purposes, after all.
'Oh ... Baby, you didn't have to do this ... You look gorgeous ...', he breathed out upon undoing the tie on the robe, immediately pushing it off as he ran his hands up and down your body. Yes, this was a good start. An amazing start, actually. He wanted you? That had been just your goal. His breathy sigh? God, that had you reeling.
He seemed to get distracted by the sight of your body being hugged by the expensive fabric, but eventually snapped out of it, shaking his head as if to get himself out of a trance. He kissed you after that, no longer paying any mind to the lingerie, nor to his previous reaction to you. He kissed and kissed you, same as he always did. Your moans against his lips fell to deaf ears, as he did not reciprocate with more moans of his own. You kissed him back, unable to not match his enthusiasm in making love to your lips.
What had just happened? You were going in the right track! He had suddenly just snapped himself out of it, basically willing the lust away. Had he wanted to hold back on purpose? Did you just need to incite him?
You let him kiss you for a while before gesturing for him to kiss down your neck, playing up your moans a bit and pushing your chest towards him. Eventually you placed his hands on your chest, now being a bit more direct.
'H-hao ... Do you like it? Did I do good?', okay, now you were a bit more embarrassed. You had never really delved into dirty talk with Minghao, much less submissive speech. There had never been a need since the man had no tendency to speak during sex at all - sans the times he'd check up on you. You hoped maybe he would react well to it.
'Yes, angel. You're perfect. Let me take care of you now, yeah?'
That was code for be quiet and let me get to business. Or at least that's how you took it. You were disheartened, but allowed him to continue, still enjoying his touch regardless of anything. You appreciated the compliments, but you did not feel sexy anymore. What you were feeling could better be described as childish and dejected. You felt like you'd shown a desperate side of yourself only to be met with nothing in return.
Your thoughts faded away the moment he began to drag his thigh between your legs, quickly drawing moans and cries of his name out of you. Was it that hard for him to do the same? What more did you need to do?
Logically, it didn't take him long to make you cum. You came in your lace panties, still earning a groan out of him upon feeling your cunt spasm against his bare thigh.
'Hmm, baby. Looked so pretty today? Are you okay? Need me to clean you up?', he gave you a sweet kiss, running his hands up and down your sides in a caring manner.
'I'm fine, Hao, thank you. I, uh, what about you? Are you ... ?'
'I'm fine, baby. Don't worry about it', he smiled at you despite the obvious boner concealed by his shorts, 'Get changed, angel. You'll get sticky and cold.'
And that was it once again. Your outfit had given you a favorable reaction, but it died off quicker than you expected. You were back to square one all over again.
You had one final plan. If this didn't give you answers, you weren't sure how to proceed from there.
What if you pulled a 'Minghao' on Minhhao? Would he react if you suddenly became stoic while in his arms? It felt disingenuous, and the mere thought honestly made you feel a little mean, but you had grown desperate by now. It had been months of amazing sex that you were sure was gratifying only to you.
Next time you and Minghao found yourselves in that mood, you decided to lay pliant in his arms; not react to his touches and movements the way you usually would.
It was weird, not letting him know how much you loved his touch. You kissed him back, even held him back too, but your mouth was silent, as was your body. He kissed down your neck, soft hands touching at every corner that usually had your eyes rolling back, but you persisted. There were no reactions out of you, only muffled groans just like his own. You felt some hesitance in his touches, sometimes pausing as he didn't get the desired effect from his actions. He didn't vocalize his concerns, however, only continuing his path as he fingered you. His lips never left your skin as he worked you through your first orgasm.
It had been a feat, truly. The feeling of his lips against your skin was enough to have you mewling for more. His fingers curling inside you usually had you whining his name, but this time the most you could allow yourself to muster was muffled or broken cries as he drew you to completion. Even then he didn't question you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion with the question trapped between his lips. He moved on to undo his pants, prepping you a bit before sliding inside you. He let out the lone moan he always did upon sliding through you, but made no further noise.
You were going insane, toes curling and body completely tense, trying your hardest not to react. It wasn't just the pleasure, but your intense feelings for the man. The way he felt against you and gave you all his love through his touch. You felt like crying at the thought. Which is what you did without realizing. You couldn't help yourself. The love you had for your boyfriend was indescribable, even if you had been dating for so little. He felt the same, which was something he'd always let you know on the tender nights you'd spend sleeping in each other's arms. Right now, though, you felt like shit. It was hard for you to even enjoy his touch, which was a new experience for you.
Minghao must've noticed your cries, which had been louder than you realized, instantly halting his movements and checking on you.
'Angel? My love, what's wrong? Are you hurt?', he pulled away completely, still keeping his arms at your sides in an attempt to soothe you, but pulling his still hard cock out of you.
The sudden lack of proximity only made you cry louder, sniffling as you tried to catch your breath.
'Baby, tell me what's wrong, please. I'm so sorry, I didn't- I didn't mean to hurt you. Where does it hurt. How can I make it better?'
'Why- why don't you want me?', the question left your lips before you even realized, face heating up at your own words.
'What? Want you? What do you mean?'
There was still time to run it back, maybe make some type of excuse about why you'd been crying. But your emotions decided for you, not allowing your brain to formulate a lie before your mouth was opening again.
You took a quick breather, allowing yourself to catch your breath before responding. Minghao seemed to understand this, running his hand up and down your back in a soothing manner.
'I just ... I just don't understand. I love you, Minghao. I love you so much. I want you so much. Why don't you want me back? What do I need to do? I cant ... I can't keep doing this', you had stopped crying by then, but your emotions were still heightened.
'Love? I love you. What are you talking about? I'm in love with you, you know this. Please tell me what you mean? Tell me if you're hurt. I can't- I'd never want to hurt you.'
He was now sitting right by you, your legs now closer while his hand came up to your cheek, wiping one of the last few tears remaining on your face. It made you feel like an asshole. He was being the amazing boyfriend you always knew him to be, reassuring you of bis affections while being worried for your wellbeing, not once stopping to care about himself. Meanwhile, you were crying because you wanted your boyfriend to feel lust for you. It was pathetic, really.
'I know you love me, Hao. You're the perfect boyfriend. I'm okay, I just ... fuck. I'm so embarrassed, I'm sorry. I don't want you to worry about me, it's so stupid, I'm sorry, I-'
'Angel, please stop apologizing. Tell me what's wrong. You don't have to be embarrassed. I need to know what you're thinking so that we can talk through it, okay? I'd never judge you', he was sincere in his words, taking on a soft smile as he tried to welcome the idea of an open conversation about whatever was on your mind. It was now or never, you guessed.
You took a deep breath, avoiding eye contact at all costs, 'I feel like ... I feel like you don't want me.'
'Want you how, angel?'
'I've tried everything Minghao. I've pursued you, I've let you pursue me, I've been loud, I've been quiet. Fuck, I even threw myself at you with stupid lingerie that you didn't even care about, but it never works. You don't want me, and it's driving me insane. I'm sorry, I know it's so stupid. I don't want to- I don't want to force anything on you or make you feel uncomfortable, but I feel so, fuck, I feel so pathetic. Like you have sex with me just to humor me. Like you're giving me something and I have nothing to show in return. I'm so- I'm so sorry.'
You weren't sure what you were apologizing for. It was either the embarrassment or the warm gaze that wouldn't leave your own as you rambled.
'My love ... You think- you think I don't want you?'
'You don't have to humor me, Minghao, I already know. I've made peace with it, it's just .. tonight was too much. I tried to keep my emotions out of it, but it only made me break faster.'
'Oh, angel,' he closed the gap, pulling you even closer to him as he put his palms on your cheeks, drawing you closer while looking into your eyes, thumbs caressing the skin there, 'I think I owe you an apology.'
'No!', you grabbed onto his wrists, interrupting him before he could continue and separating yourself in the same breath, knowing you could never speak your mind while he held you so lovingly, 'You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm sorry. I should've never tried to pressure you, I did this to myself, I-'
'I need you to let me talk, angel, please. I need to explain myself.'
'Oh. I- okay. Continue.'
'I adore you, my love. You know this. To think that you could ever think I don't want you breaks my heart. It's all my fault, I should've never done this, I- I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like I don't ache for you the way you do me. I want you in ways I can't describe.'
'But-'
'Let me finish', his hands were back on you, one caressing your cheek while the other ran up and down your arm in an almost sensual manner, 'You think I don't think about you every passing moment? That you don't plague my thoughts every day? My beautiful girl ... You're the prettiest thing I've ever had. Holding you in my arms as you writhe under me is the biggest form of pleasure I've ever felt. You- you think-', he took a deep breath before continuing, 'You think I don't think about you on my lonely nights away from your touch? That I don't touch myself thinking of you; your curves, your soft skin, the way you cry my name ...'
'H-hao ...', your breath was just as heavy as his by now, mouth dry as you heard him recite his one and every emotion towards you.
'You think you don't plague my mind at the most inopportune moments?,' he continued despite your interruption, 'I think of you every day. When I'm at practice, when I'm performing, fuck, I think of you when I'm having dinner with my parents. Your body invades my every thought. You beautiful, gorgeous thing. I ... I've had to hold back. Didn't want to scare you away with the impossible lust I feel for you. Every time you let me have you, I have to hold back. I can never fully have you. I don't know what it'd do to me. I've wanted you from the moment we met. I've wanted to explore every inch of your body and make you mine. But your pleasure is my main priority. Always. As long as you're satisfied, I could never ask for more. But to think you ever believed I didn't want ache for you every passing moment pains me. I ... I want to .. Can I show you? Will you let me show you how badly I need you?'
'Please .. Fuck, Hao, please, I-'
He moaned the moment he finally connected your lips, hands going crazy at the way he squeezed and caressed every inch he could reach. His moans against your lips did not halt as you whined desperately at his kiss, relishing in the speech he had just delivered to you. What you were feeling was beyond lust at this point. You felt something you had never before, having waited months for your boyfriend to finally want you the way you did him. You weren't sure if he was playing it up for you, but you didn't want it to stop regardless.
'My love,' he finally disconnected your lips, 'Going to give you everything. Everything I've been holding back, I- I don't even know where to start.'
His eyes could not stay in one place, darting around every inch of your nude body. You had known Minghao to be attracted to you, it was something he expressed many times, but you had never seen the calm man so frantic before. His calm nature was completely gone.
'You can do anything you want, Hao. Just, please ...'
He shut you up with yet another kiss, laying you down on the bed in the process. He dragged his dick against your cunt, groaning at the feeling. You were still drenched from your ruined orgasm from earlier, and he was hard due to your prior interruption, so it wasn't difficult to get the two of you ready for each other.
'Wanna be in you so badly, but .. Fuck, you just feel so good like this angel,' he was grabbing onto your thighs by now, lifting them up in order to angle himself just right to drag his cock right against your clit. His eyebrows were furrowed and his face flushed. He was a broken version of himself, with his only purpose in mind being to bring the two of you the most pleasure imaginable. You felt like an idiot for never expressing your concerns to your boyfriend, not imagining that it'd end up so favorably for you. The pleasure you felt at his lack of self-control as he played with you couldn't compare to any previous time in which you'd made love.
He separated himself from you before either of you could come, muttering something along the lines of 'Wanna savor you, my love.' He still seemed frantic, not fully sure where he wanted to touch first or what part of you to enjoy at that moment. He went from kissing your chest to rubbing your pussy with his long fingers. He put you in all positions he could think of to kiss up and down your body, waxing poetic at you repeatedly as he sighed against your skin. The occasional times in which his cock would accidentally grace against you had you burning, wanting him inside you more than anything. Now that you knew he wanted you just as bad as you did him; now that he was fully yours.
'My beautiful girl ... Love you so much. The pleasure you bring me .. You have no idea. How could I ever let you think I didn't carry a torch for you night after night. Is this okay? Is it okay to want someone this badly? To ache for you day and night, only thinking of your touch?', he was finally facing you again, close enough to invade all your senses.
'Gonna have you now, okay, angel? Gonna show you how strongly I feel about you. How you make me lose all my inhibitions.'
He entered you with no further warning, letting out the groan he always did, but this time his mouth would not stop running, moaning and sighing your name against your ear, letting you know how your cunt around him made him lose his mind.
'My most beautiful, girl ... fuck. Gonna break you ... I've held back for too long ... Need you every day,' the way he was fucking you was nothing short of animalistic, with both his words and the slapping of your skin filling up the silence of the room.
'God, that day you showed up with that pretty set for me? Do you have any idea how difficult it was to not pin you against the wall and rip it off of you? Make you cry as you took all of me until every single drop of my cum was leaking from your cunt? The image has not left my mind for a single moment, angel. Can't think, shit ... Can't breathe without thinking of you', despite his insane dancer stamina, his breathing was becoming disheveled as he continued to piston into you.
You had thought that Minghao had already given you all types of pleasure throughout your relationship, but now that he had finally snapped you had truly reached heaven. And it seemed like it was the case for him too. He was unable to stop himself from telling you his every thought, with his emotions getting the best of him as he fucked into you almost animalistically. His fingers were bruising your thighs as he held you with all bis might; something you thought your soft and sweet Minghao was incapable of doing.
'Hao ... I need .. I'm gonna cum, Hao, please!'
'Yeah? Gonna let me have it, angel? Love when you cum for me. So soft and pretty, all for me. Cum, my love. Cum and I'll give you all of me in return.'
The thought of his cum filling you up made you lose control, cumming as your back arched almost completely off the bed. You felt like you'd ascended, being given the most intense orgasm of your life, followed by a warm feeling inside you; the feeling of Minghao's essence penetrating you.
He almost fell on top of you as he finished, breath hot and heavy against your skin.
'My love? Are you okay? Was that too much?', it only took a few moments of silence for him to speak up, showing immediate concern for your limp and breathless state.
You had been more than okay, having never felt more loved and wanted in your life. From his words to his actions, Minghao had managed to make you realize how wrong you'd been all along. It wasn't that he didn't want you, but that he wanted you too much to hold back if given the chance to fully give himself to you. But now it was all out in the open. Now you could finally enjoy each other to the fullest extent.
'I'm okay, Hao. Thank you,' you felt shy in the aftermath of it, now fully processing all the words of lust your boyfriend had whispered against your skin as he fucked you into the mattress. You had seen a side of Minghao you hadn't known existed.
'Are you sure? I didn't scare you off, did I?'
'Are you kidding? I've wanted you to do that for ages. I was going insane throwing myself at you!'
He chuckled, booping at your nose lovingly, 'You were making my resolve break, my love. Wasn't sure how much longer I could go without going past my limit.'
'Could've talked me through it at least once, you know. I wouldn't've objected', you humphed.
'How about I make up for it now, hmm? Let me clean you up on the shower?'
'Yeah? Gonna tell me how much you want me again?', you grinned against him.
'Yes, my angel. Every single day.'
a/n: not proofread and i also had no idea how to end it my bad </3
3K notes
¡
View notes
i keep thinking about boys sucking on my fingers while i ride them iâm so sick and disgusting ugh. i feel like soonyoung would love to do that omg.
youâd just be bouncing on his pretty cock with one arm slinked around his shoulders and your other hand just cupping his precious face. heâd press wet kisses to your palm between whimpers and would lick up to your thumb, sinking his entire mouth down onto it and sucking pathetically. heâd run his tongue along it and bite down unconsciously when heâs feeling too good, letting out broken cries and apologies afterward :( he doesnât mean to bite but he just feels so good he canât help it! heâd just keep drooling dumbly and panting around your fingers ugh i canât. my little tiger <3
i *originally* thought about minghao doing this to me and ugh it made me want hao moreâŚbut then i also thought of other svt members that might be into that and i thought of hoshi <3
206 notes
¡
View notes
backstage series | lee seokmin (M) [ongoing]
After you and your boyfriend split up, you decided to reconnect with your friend Seokmin. Because you're both performers, you started spending more time together, and a lot can happen backstage.
âĄď¸ pairings: lee seokmin x afab!reader
âĄď¸ genre: romance, smut [mdni]
âĄď¸ aus: theatre performer seokmin, fake dating with benefits,
âĄď¸ word count: 52.6k
navigation post
part 1 | opening night
âJust play along.â He said softly, his lips curving into a playful smile as he leaned his head to kiss you deeply in front of everyone who, until that night, thought you were heartbroken for someone else.
part 2 | obsession
The truth was, he liked whatever he had with you. Friends that fuck. But to everyone else you know, you're sort of a thing. And that is what Seokmin himself suggested, a fake relationship. A fake relationship between two friends that fuck, no romantic feelings in between. How could this possibly go wrong?
part 3 | bad idea
It was all an act. A mantra you repeated to yourself since the moment you first kissed. You'd made a pact with Seokmin to remain friends. Yet even when his touch seemed like wildfire, you clung to the fragile threads of that promise, as you felt yourself melting at the touch of his lips.
part 4 | closing night
He felt like home. Like coming home after a tiring day, you can finally relax and unwind. The comfort of his affectionate embrace is everything you've been longing for in the last few days.
part 5 | rehearsals
Being in love with your best friend has been an experience with many trials and errors. Mostly errors.
last update: 14.01.24 (ËśËęłËËľ) âĄď¸
JOIN MY TAGLIST
679 notes
¡
View notes
office hours â bsk
⥠pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader
⥠theme: college au, nonidol!au
⥠teaser wc: ~6.2k
⥠warnings: swearing, smut, reader is gender neutral but wears a skirt, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe yâall), creampie, petnames (f. receiving - baby), fluff at the end if you squint
⥠a/n: this whole thing is a highly self-indulgent fic so if reader is down horrendous for bsk⌠u know why
â§âËâŠĺ˝Ą moodboard by @myhimbomingi â§âËâŠĺ˝Ą
You fucking hate Tuesdays.Â
Thereâs nothing actually wrong with your Tuesday schedule - on the contrary itâs probably the best day of the week in terms of lectures and extracurriculars. Your first class of the day, Developmental Psychology, doesnât start til 11am, so you get to sleep in - always a win in your book. Afterwards you have an hour and a half break, usually spent by eating lunch in the student center and then a visit to the campus library to get some studying done. Then your 2pm Discussion for your Intro to Fiction class, followed by yoga at the gym - and since your work-study job at the Cognitive Research Lab doesnât have you scheduled for Tuesdays, you get to go home right after. All in all, a pretty laid-back day in your hectic college life.
Except for that stupid 2pm Discussion.Â
As a Psychology major you didnât anticipate having to take any Literature courses, but you needed to fill an elective and Intro to Fiction had a reputation for being a fun, low-stakes course. It also fit conveniently into your Fall Semester schedule, so you signed up. Professor Mendoza turned out to be super nice and never gives any bullshit extra homework, and the assigned books have been surprisingly enjoyable. No, none of that is the problem.Â
The problem is the hot TA youâve inadvertently fallen in love with.Â
Your first encounter with Seungkwan had been a bit embarrassing - the first week of the semester you somehow went to the completely wrong building, and even with speed walking you arrived to Discussion about five minutes late. You tried to sneak in quietly but the loud, creaky door hinge had other plans. Twenty-some pairs of eyes turned to stare at the idiot latecomer, but the pair you locked onto were the soft brown ones surrounded by long dark eyelashes, belonging to the blazer-wearing grad student standing at the front of the classroom.Â
You wouldâve been embarrassed in this situation anyway, but the unexpected eye contact made your stomach drop and your face turn hot. You stood there for a few moments too long, before muttering a feeble âsorryâ under your breath as you made your way to the only empty seat in the room - which of course was located at the very front, immediately before the TA. You quickly took your seat and pulled out a notebook (not even the right one, but you were too frazzled to notice). The TA, whose name you missed due to being late, resumed his lecture. You started writing down everything he was saying - definitely not necessary, but you were doing your best to focus without looking up.Â
Your face eventually stopped burning up, but this classroom was particularly warm and stuffy. You set down your pen and took your cardigan off, hanging it over the back of the chair. Mindlessly looking up, you look at the TA for the first time since sitting down. He too had discarded his outerwear - the muted brown herringbone blazer now laying aside on the teacherâs desk upon which he was leaning. His dark brown shoes matched his dark pants - which werenât tight but certainly hugged his thighs nicely, but you tried not to think about that - and he was currently rolling up the sleeves of his medium gray button down - and you definitely tried not to think about that. You put your head back down and focused on your note-taking, transcribing everything without actually processing any of what he said. This was all very strange for you - sure some of your past TAs had been nice looking, but why was this particular one making you this flustered?Â
The clock ticked on at an unbearably slow pace. You took your notes and paid no attention, not joining in on the conversation even once. You just have to make it through the hour, you kept telling yourself. But the hour seemed to never end.Â
You snap out of it as the TA finally wraps up the class.Â
âDonât forget to read through chapter 5,â he reminds everyone. You realize you donât even know which book youâre supposed to be reading, but itâs too late to ask now - youâve looked like enough of a fool today already. Quickly packing your bag, you try to make your escape but as you are heading toward the door the TA calls out to you. Shit. Â
âI just need to get your name - for attendance,â he tells you as you turn back around.Â
âOh⌠yeah,â you reply. You silently curse yourself for how stupid you sound. You tell him your name and he makes note of your attendance in his notes. You try to escape again but not before he sticks his hand out to you.Â
âSeungkwan,â he introduces himself. You make the mistake of looking into those big round doe eyes again. He was even more beautiful up close. SHIT.Â
You shake his hand, trying to do so as quickly as possible, but he has a very strong grip.Â
âNice to have you in class,â he says warmly.Â
âNicetomeetyoutoo!â you reply, taking your hand back and turning to dart out the door before he can get another word in.Â
You donât look back, so you donât see how his eyes are glued to you as you hurriedly exit the classroom.Â
â
You thought after a few classes youâd get over your dumb little crush on your TA, but four weeks into the semester and itâs only gotten worse. Now that you know where the stupid building is, you always make sure to arrive to Discussion early so you can snag a seat in the very back - as far away from him as you can manage - but this only allows your mind to wander. Watching him from the back of the class, youâve unintentionally memorized his subtle habits: the way he takes his glasses case out of his bag at the beginning of each class, opening it and wiping the lenses clean with a cloth before placing them on his face with two hands, delicately moving his hair off to the side as not to obscure his vision; the way he leans against the desk, resting his weight on his palms as he listens to the students engage in conversation about the current book; the way he holds his well-worn copy in his left hand when referencing the text, flipping through the dog-eared pages filled with highlights and notes written in ink in the margins, laying the book on the desk pages-down to preserve his place when he goes to write important points on the chalkboard; the way he carefully erases the board as not to create a cloud of dust, wiping his hands together away from his body as not to get chalk on his perfectly pressed clothes; the way he focuses so intently when somebody is speaking, maintaining eye contact and nodding his head slightly, giving them his full attention.
That last one is why you never say a word in that class. Youâre pretty sure you would combust on the spot.
Unfortunately, your entire grade for the Discussion portion of the course is based on actually engaging in the discussion - and based on your participation thus far you were right on track for getting an entire zero. Iâll say something next week, you tell yourself - then next week rolls around and you donât say a damn thing. And repeat. You just hope Seungkwan doesnât say anything to you.Â
But he does.Â
You freeze upon hearing your name as youâre gathering your belongings at the end of session. You look up and meet his gaze, doing your best to maintain a relaxed demeanor. Itâs only a little eye contact, just chill.Â
âYeah, whatâs up?â you respond nonchalantly. He gives you a bit of an inquisitive look, so you add on a polite smile.
âIâve noticed you havenât participated at all during discussion so far - you know thatâs what I have to grade you on, right?â
âOh yeah, um- Iâve been⌠Iâll work on that.â
The look on his face tells you heâs not convinced. âI graded your first essay - you showed exemplary comprehension and your analysis was one of the best ones Iâve read.â
You feel your stomach do a flip. The sudden praise caught you off guard.Â
âOh uh, thank you,â you stammer, trying not to display how flustered you are but undoubtedly failing.Â
You make the mistake (again) of making direct eye contact with Seungkwan. It lasts maybe two seconds, but feels like time has slowed; the world has stopped; nothing matters but you and him, standing alone in this room together. Youâve never wanted to impulsively kiss somebody this bad in your life.Â
You force yourself back to reality.Â
Seungkwan continues. âBut, if youâre having some trouble with this particular novel,â he says as he holds up his book, âyou can always stop by my office hours with any questions.â
You glance at his copy of Dracula. Itâs a standard size paperback, but it looks small in his hand - a hand so strong and defined, yet elegant, fingers long and gracefulâŚ
Nope. Not gonna think about that right now.Â
âI hold them every Thursday from 3-5pm - in this building, room 430. Top floor - all the way at the end of the hallway.âÂ
You nod - looking at him without making direct eye contact. âCool cool. Iâll uh⌠Thanks, I might take you up on that.â
âOf course,â he replies matter-of-factly. He pauses, then adds with a slight smile, âIt is my job after all.âÂ
Picking up his coat, he heads toward the door, and you follow. He holds the door open for you; as you pass by him you catch the scent of his cologne: woody but fresh, notes of patchouli and bergamot. You utter a soft âThank youâ. He nods chivalrously.Â
Exiting the discussion room, he starts heading in the opposite direction as you. âSee ya around!â you blurt out suddenly. He pauses - turning over his shoulder, he nods once more at you. âHave a good one,â he responds cordially. Maybe youâre seeing things, but his eyes seem to linger on you for a split second longer than one would expect.Â
You watch him walk away for as long as you can get away with without being detected.Â
As you make your way to the gym you ruminate over what he told you. Office hours. You didnât really see a need to go - you werenât actually having any trouble with the book. And of course office hours are open to all students, but the chance that you might be alone in a room with him again, having a one-on-one conversationâŚ
You try to push the thought aside. You arrive to yoga, prepared to clear your head - but you spend the whole class thinking about Seungkwan. You head home after class, sitting on the bus with your headphones in, blasting your favorite album - but still your mind dwells on your TA. You get home and sit down to continue the novel, reading the next chapter - but you quickly give up. Youâre absorbing none of the story, so youâd have to reread it anyway.Â
Maybe you will go to office hours after all.Â
â
Thursday. Youâve been trying not to think about Seungkwanâs office hours, but of course itâs just the white bear experiment all over again - the harder you tried, the more you ended up thinking about it. Your last class - Statistics - ends at 3:30pm, so you have all day to debate whether to go or not. Damn him for holding them so late in the day.Â
Your Stats professor could not be a more uninteresting lecturer if he tried. You spend most of the class stifling your yawns as you do your best to pay attention, to no avail. Finally, the clock hits 3:30 and class is dismissed. You have to make your decision now - so naturally you end up going to the library to procrastinate said decision and mull it over some more.Â
After many wasted minutes trying (and failing) to get some homework done, you check the time: 4:19pm. With a sigh you open up your book to leaf through the pages, looking for something you could make up some bullshit question about. Nothing. Mildly peeved, you open your laptop and pull up trusty sparknotes.com. All the discussion questions seem too juvenile, and youâre pretty sure youâd manage to make a fool of yourself if you tried to ask a question you already knew the answer to.Â
You decide to abandon your plan to drop by with specific questions and instead just hope and pray there will be other students there so you can simply join in on their conversations. If there arenât⌠youâll just have to figure that out when you get there.Â
You make your way to the Literature Studies building, realizing upon your arrival there is no elevator - and your destination is on the top floor. Cursing the building for being old, you trek up the stairs in search of room 430, which - as he mentioned - appears to be at the very end of the hallway. Nearly there, you abruptly decide to backtrack to the restroom you passed to check yourself in the mirror real quick, which turns out to be a mistake because now youâre hyperaware of how anxious (and for some reason, frumpy) you look right now. Nice going you idiot.Â
Doing your best to make yourself presentable, you tussle your hair a bit and fix the collar of your shirt back to its proper position. You decide itâs good enough and go to exit the bathroom, pausing when you remember that you have a tinted lip balm you threw in your bag last minute. Rummaging through your bag for a solid 20 seconds, you find the tube at the very bottom and hastily apply it to your lips. Taking a step back, you take a final glance at your reflection - the balm is neutral-colored and fairly subtle, but makes you look slightly less dead. Youâll take the W.Â
You make your way back down the hallway toward room 430. Approaching the end of the hall, you hear voices engaged in conversation. You pull out your phone to quickly check the time: 22 minutes of office hours remaining. Good enough, I guess. Youâre three steps away from the doorway when you hear a familiar voice chime in - a voice soft and soothing, confident without being cocky. You proceed to enter the office before you have a chance to process how itâs making you feel.Â
You find yourself in a room small yet cozy - bookshelves built into the wall that go all the way up to the ceiling, stacked with endless literature: many classics youâve heard of, many others you havenât. Thereâs no overhead lighting, but two antique-ish looking floor lamps illuminate the room with a warm-toned glow. An old, large mahogany desk fills nearly half the room, its accompanying chair vacant. Two fellow classmates are seated in the two smaller chairs facing the dark leather loveseat upon which your TA is currently sitting - reclined, one leg over the other knee, hand on the open book laying face down on the couch next to him. The three faces turn to look at you as you enter, bringing their conversation to a halt. You fucking hate being collectively perceived in any circumstance, but something about the intimacy of the room makes this particular situation even worse than usual. You feel your face start to turn warm but you quickly shove the embarrassment back down. Not today.Â
Seungkwan greets you amiably, your name sounding sweet in his mellow voice. âGlad you could make it! Come on in, have a seat.â He picks up the paperback by his side and sets it on his lap, motioning for you to sit next to him.Â
Right. Next. To. Him.Â
Ignoring the million panic alarms going off in your head, you force a small smile and take your seat. The couch is even smaller than it seemed - thereâs maybe two feet between you and him. Youâre greeted with the inviting scent of his cologne.Â
The two students resume their discussion. You sit there mostly in silence, nodding along, trying not to fixate on Seungkwanâs closeness. But itâs hard to focus on anything other than that - like, really hard.
The twenty-ish minutes pass rather quickly, and the conversation that youâve contributed nothing to starts to wrap up. The two other students begin packing their bags. You pull out your phone to check the time - 4:57pm. A sense of relief washes over you as youâll be forced to leave now - no more sitting there anxiously not knowing what to say - but youâre also feeling a little sulky about leaving so soon. You politely say goodbye back to your classmates, who are already on their way out the door. You go to put on your jacket only to discover you never took it off (no wonder it felt so warm in here). Grabbing your book and tossing it in your backpack, you hurry to leave as well before you manage to do or say something to embarrass yourself.Â
âBye! Thank you!â you say cheerily as you step out the door.
âY/n?â
You stop in your tracks. You turn around to face Seungkwan, who is still sitting on the couch, reclined, with his arm now laying across the back where you just were. That makes you feel a lot of things, which you promptly ignore.
âYeah?â you reply, hoping a smile will cover your nervousness.
âI believe you took my book.â
You stand there for a moment, confused, before you realize you never took your own copy out. The one you hastily threw into your bag was his. So much for not embarrassing yourself.
âOh my god Iâm SO sorry!!â you blurt out, swinging your backpack around and hurrying to retrieve it.
âItâs alright,â he says with a soft chuckle. âI did set it right next to you.â
You grab his copy out of your bag and hold it out to him sheepishly. He stands up and takes the book in his hand, his fingers brushing yours slightly. Youâve never been electrocuted, but youâre pretty sure what just jolted through your body was a similar sensation.
âDid you have any questions about the book?â he asks before you can bolt out the door. âYou didnât say much in our discussion today-â You open your mouth to apologize again, but he gently puts his hand up to stop you. âI just want to make sure I can help you if you came here with something specific in mind.âÂ
âOh, umâŚâ You hesitate, fiddling with your coat sleeve. You decide to tell the truth. Â
âHonestly, not really. I kinda just came here to get an idea of how I can participate during class. Cuz, yâknow. Donât really want a zero.â
Seungkwan nods. âYour essays have been very good, I know youâre a highly capable student.âÂ
You try not to blush. You know heâs just talking about your coursework, but accepting compliments is not your fortĂŠ.Â
âIâm just⌠not a literature student, so Iâm not used to taking classes like these. I guess I just get a little nervous that Iâm gonna say something stupid.â Youâre not sure why youâre telling him all this.Â
âAs long as youâve read and understood the text, you wonât sound stupid - I promise.âÂ
You look down at the floor. Maybe these are normal things for TAs to say to students, but the fact that youâre kind of in love with him is not helping right now.Â
âBesides,â he continues, âIâm the one grading you. I assure you youâll get a good grade as long as you participate.â
âWell, thatâs good news,â you say with a contented smile. You do feel reassured by his words. âThanks again,â you say, as you turn to leave.Â
âOh, and y/n?â
You lock eyes with him, a recurring habit you seem to be unable to quit.Â
âIf you ever canât make my office hours, feel free to email me. Iâm sure we can find another time to meet one-on-one.â
One-on-one???
âOh cool, I⌠appreciate that.â Does he say that to all his students?? He must, right? Donât be delusionalâŚ
He nods courteously. âSee you in class.â
âYou too!â you add brightly as you finally head out the door. This time you do look back to see him still looking at you, with an ambiguous look on his face that you cannot decipher.
For the rest of the week, for once, you find yourself looking forward to Tuesday.
â
Tuesday. You resume your usual very-back-of-the-room spot for Discussion - but this time you finally engage in the classâ conversation. You still feel kinda dumb about it, but your TAâs promise of giving you a good grade so long as you participate sticks with you. Besides, who gives a shit what the other students think of you. There is only one person in that room whose opinion you care about, and you seem to have his approval, for reasons unclear to you. Maybe you are just a decent student. But the fact that thereâs maybe something else there⌠You donât let yourself develop delusions of grandeur, but thereâs no crime in being cautiously optimistic.Â
On Thursday you find yourself back at office hours, this time arriving a bit earlier - though much to your chagrin the two other students from last time are there again. Youâre not sure exactly what you were hoping for if it was just you alone, especially considering you still donât have any specific questions about the book, but you were kind of hoping it would happen anyway. But alas, you partake in office hours with company. You actually find yourself enjoying these literary discussions a bit, now that you (sort of) know how to engage with them properly.
And so you become a regular at Seungkwanâs office hours - Thursday afternoons quickly becoming the highlight of your week. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens between you two - and thereâs always other students there whenever you attend - but you donât see any harm in enjoying your time spent with him.Â
Per usual, though, as finals approach more and more students start attending as well. One week you show up at 3pm sharp, only to find five students already there asking questions about their essays. You acknowledge that itâs probably just wishful thinking, but he does seem genuinely pleased to see you - pausing his conversation briefly to greet you, your name spoken warmly with a smile on his face. You make a mental note that he doesnât greet anyone else who enters by name.
Seungkwan maintains a very patient and polite composure, but you get the sense that he is rather irked at the several students who are more or less trying to get him to write part of their essays for them. You chat for a few minutes with a friendly classmate youâve become acquainted with, but ultimately you both give up on trying to talk to the TA and decide to leave. You sneak a quick glance back as you exit, catching Seungkwanâs eye right before youâre out of his line of sight. Though perhaps you werenât so sneaky, because once youâre in the hallway your classmate nudges you with her elbow and teases, âOoooh you have a crush on him donât you?â
You scoff. âOh please.â
âNo seriously, he looked like a sad puppy seeing you go. You should ask him out.â
You roll your eyes and give her a âYeah, right,â before casually changing the subject. But her comment sticks with you, and for days your mind keeps coming back to it. Youâre hesitant to jump to conclusions, but the fact that she noticed it too⌠Perhaps you will shoot your shot after all.Â
â
Taking advantage of the fact that you didnât get a chance to speak with him during his regular office hours, you decide to take Seungkwan up on his offer. You did rewrite the email about 15 times, erase it repeatedly, and almost give up entirely, but in the end you came up with a message you deemed solidly good enough:
Hi Seungkwan,
I was wondering if you have any availability to meet to discuss the current essay. I have a few questions that I feel would be easier to convey in person. I understand finals are a very busy time though, so if you arenât available I completely understand.
Thank you.
You hit send at 11:57pm on Sunday night, so you figure youâll get a response the next morning. Before you can even close your laptop, you get an email notification.
Hi y/n,
Iâd be happy to meet with you. Are you available Tuesday evening after 6pm? I apologize for the odd hours, but that would be the most ideal time for me. However, if that does not work for you Iâm sure we can figure something out.Â
Seungkwan
You sit and stare at your screen rereading it for a good five minutes. You hit the reply button.
Sure, that works for me! Thank you - I really appreciate it.
The light ping of a notification returns within seconds.
Of course, y/n. See you then.
You shut your laptop, your hand resting on top of it as your mind races, rapidly cycling between excited and anxious. You keep telling yourself to lower your expectations: youâre simply meeting with your TA to discuss your essay - which, you donât actually have any questions about, so now youâll have to make some shit up. But that can be a tomorrow problem. Tonight, you go to bed, half-coherent thoughts of literature, exams, and a certain pair of soft brown eyes floating around in your mind as you drift off to sleep.Â
â
You wake up on Tuesday and immediately enter into panic mode. You canât seem to focus on anything other than your date meeting with Seungkwan later - which of course you expected, but itâs pretty inconvenient considering you have so much to do with finals rapidly drawing near. Your Discussion class is finished for the semester, so you wonât be seeing him until evening - youâre not sure if this makes things better or worse, but it is what it is. You spend the entire afternoon in the library, sitting amongst the stacks, sort of studying but mostly doing a whole fucking lot of daydreaming instead.
After several hours of minimal productivity, you check the time: 5:36pm. You feel your heart start to beat faster. Since youâre clearly not going to get anything else done, you pack up your belongings and make your way to the Literature building. Might as well get there a little early.
You climb the four flights of stairs to the top floor, the building strangely empty. Making your way down to the very end of the hallway you wonder if Seungkwan will even be there yet or if youâve arrived early for nothing - but as you approach you notice the door is ajar, the unexpected sound of alt rock music greeting your ears. You knock lightly on the doorframe as you poke your head into the office. Seungkwan, seated behind the large mahogany desk, seemingly absorbed in something on his laptop, looks up - youâve clearly caught him a bit off guard.
âHi, sorry - Iâm a little early,â you apologize.
His face lights up in a warm smile. âNo, uh - thatâs alright!â he replies cheerfully. âGo ahead, take a seat,â he says as he gestures to the couch.Â
You plop your backpack down on the ground and remove your coat, carefully tucking your skirt (a rare choice of clothing for you, but you figured fuck it, why not) under yourself as you take a seat on the comfy sofa. Seungkwan turns the music down to a faintly audible volume and rises from his desk chair, making his way over to you. You expected him to sit in the armchair across from you, but he comes and joins you on the couch instead. You can practically hear the rapid thumpthumpthumpthump of your heartbeat.Â
âSo, tell me about your essay,â he starts. His eyes linger on yours. âWhat did you have questions about?â
Nonchalantly taking a deep breath, you take out your laptop and open it, pulling up your draft file. You basically had your paper planned out already, but you made up some questions to ask so as not to give away the fact that you literally had no academic reason to be here. You begin to explain your first question, which turns out to be an extremely difficult feat with him not only sitting so close to you, but also gazing at you softly, listening intently. You decide to avoid eye contact almost entirely.Â
You chat about your essay topic for what feels like an eternity (you glance at the clock on your computer - itâs been 14 minutes). Youâre in the middle of discussing the second point of your thesis when he interjects.
âY/n, why are you really here?â
You feel the blood drain from your face. Heâs onto me. Itâs over.
âItâs very clear that you understand the book perfectly well. I really donât think you need my help.â
You slowly look up at him, hesitating before opening your mouth to try and bullshit some response, but nothing comes out.Â
âYou know, I donât normally schedule one-on-one office hours with students outside of my usual times.â
The blood comes rushing back to your cheeks. You feel like a fucking idiot.
âIâmsosorry,â you blurt out. âI really wasnât trying to waste your time I-â
âThatâs not what I mean, y/n.â
You freeze. Does he meanâŚ
Before you can even finish that thought he kisses you.
His hand cradles your face gently, drawing you closer to him as he presses his lips onto yours, electricity pulsing through your entire body - all you can think about is the way his lips feel, the way he softly brushes your cheek with his thumb, the way you want to throw your laptop across the room and throw yourself onto him so you can kiss him even more.Â
As if he read your mind, he reaches down (still kissing you) and closes your laptop, picking it up and setting it aside carefully. You lap now vacant, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his, his soft kiss becoming more fervent. Your hand rests on his chest as you kiss him back - you feel the energy of his heart beating, at the same pace as yours, through the cozy sweater he has on. After several seconds (minutes? hours?) his lips part from yours, the sudden lack of sensation leaving you immediately longing for more; they linger mere inches from your face as your eyes meet his sensuous gaze.Â
âJust one second,â he says in a voice barely above a whisper.
Seungkwan gets up and swiftly shuts the door - you hear the deep, satisfying thunk of the old door closing, followed by the subtle click of the lock. He then walks over to the desk to turn the music up to a decent volume before making his way back over to the couch. He barely resumes his seat before grasping onto you desperately, his face buried as he begins to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh at the unexpected sensation, wrapping your arms around his torso and drawing him in even tighter. His large hands caress your back as if trying to commit your shape to memory, as your hand slowly makes its way down his side - stopping when you reach his belt, resting on the waistline of his jeans which are very obviously becoming tighter by the second.Â
You hesitate at first, but eventually your hand continues downward; Seungkwan sharply inhales as it lands on his growing bulge, his body tensing up against yours. He pulls his face from the crook of your neck, his lips immediately finding yours again, indulging in another kiss as he pulls you over onto his lap. You begin making out with him, your hand holding his warm, flushed cheek; your core, now exposed aside from the barrier of your underwear, presses against the hardness in his pants, causing soft moans to escape from the both of you. Before long, your hips begin to rock back and forth, grinding on his clothed cock - lightly at first, but with increasing intensity. You break away from his kiss; he looks at you, his eyelids heavy.
âY/nâŚâ he breathes out as he starts to kiss you again, âyou donât know how⌠wanted you so badâŚâ
âMe too,â you mutter.
He slides his hand under your skirt, finding your clit and beginning to circle it gently through your soaked underwear, causing you to whine softly.
âOh fuck, youâre so wet,â he says in a low, husky voice, his fingertips increasing their pace against the sensitive bud. He then slips his finger under the hem of your panties, pulling them aside to expose your already-swollen cunt, the sharpness of the cool air hitting its wetness. You cry out as he slides one finger into you, followed by another, his thumb continuing to caress your clit. Your hips begin to rock again, fucking yourself against his perfectly-curled fingers that are hitting you in all the right spots, your speed quickly increasing with the overwhelming pleasure that has taken over your entire body. You feel it welling in your stomach, your orgasm growing nearer with each movement. Youâre about to lose it when he slows your pace, looking at you with lust-filled eyes - you can tell what it is he wants.Â
You reach down and undo his belt, unfastening his button and drawing down the zipper. His jeans out of the way, you pull the band of his underwear down, freeing his hardened cock - he lets out a groan as you begin to stroke its length. Precum has already begun to form, your fingers taking the wetness and gliding it over the head.Â
âPlease⌠wanna fuck you so badâŚâ Heâs practically whimpering at this point.
You slide your pussy up and down his length a few times, causing him to recline his head against the couch as he breathes heavily. Finally you take his cock in your hand, placing it at your entrance and lowering yourself onto him, crying out at the sudden sensation of fullness. He groans as you slowly begin to ride him, his length hitting you in the perfect spot; you have to bite your lip to control yourself from becoming too loud - it feels even better than youâd ever imagined.
You begin to pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock as the sensation in your stomach begins to build again, even stronger now with him inside you. Your cries involuntarily become louder, prompting him to place his other hand over your mouth.
âShhh, baby - donât want anyone to hear us.â
You nod, tears welling in your eyes.
His soft grunts become more frequent - you can tell heâs getting close. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as youâre also nearing orgasm. He drops his hand from your mouth so he can grab onto your hips with both hands, holding you tight as he thrusts into you, full of vigor.Â
âFuck, Iâm so close,â he says, his voice low and gruff.
âWant you to cum in me,â you reply breathily. He nods eagerly. Youâre nearly there yourself. You cling to his face, giving him one more kiss before you canât hold it in any longer.
âOh fuck Iâm gonna cum,â you manage to get out before the white-hot sensation takes over your whole body. You cry out, your walls clenching around him, immediately sending him over the edge - his cock pulses as you feel his cum release inside you.Â
As you come down from your high your body melts into his as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in. He plants a few soft kisses on your cheek as you sink into him, his cock still inside you. You lay there peacefully for an unknown amount of minutes, the rock music still playing in the background as he rubs your back gently. Eventually you sit up, pressing your nose against his.
âDoes this mean I get an A?â you ask jokingly.
He laughs, his nose crinkling as he smiles. âYou were going to get one anyway, I assure you the fact that I just had the best sex of my life will have no impact on your grade.â
You break out into laughter. You pause, then ask hesitantly, âSoooo, what does this mean?â
His brown eyes rest on yours. âWell, I suppose weâll have to figure that out later,â he says pragmatically. A slight tinge of sadness comes across your face, but before you can say anything he continues.
âHow does tonight over dinner sound?â
You roll your eyes, but you canât help but smile back at him.Â
âI think that sounds perfect.â
[end]
667 notes
¡
View notes
â PAIRING: Seokmin x Afab!Reader.
â GENRE: College!Au, kinda comedy, small bit of angst if you look hard enough, teeny tiny fluff, smut MDNI.
â SYNOPSIS: After having a crush on Lee Seokmin for three years, he somehow ends up wanting to be your roommate. Instead of rejecting him, you decide to give him the vacant room - right after confessing your feelings for him.
â WARNINGS: roommate!seok, wet dreams, coming untouched (f), degradation, usage of the words slut, baby, angel, masturbation (m), making out, like really so much kissing, fingering, finger-sucking, she loves his fingers lol, unprotected sex (don't.. just don't), creampie.
â WORDCOUNT: 11.5k
A/N: hi guys!! here it is (for some of you even on the date it was scheduled to be posted!), my first ever stand-alone svt fic! no part 2, no whole ass series, just this cute 11.5k baby I wrote after being deep inside my seokmin shaped hole (i am always in a seokmin shaped hole actually). i want to thank my bestie @honeykyeom for making the amazing header as well for being my inspiration for writing this <3 ily!! now, i hope you enjoy and as always please reblog & comment, these things are what makes writing worth while <3
You had a crush. A big fat stupid crush. And it was starting to get extremely annoying. You really tried to stop liking him because a.) he didnât even know you existed and b.) even if he did he would never ever like you back because what are the odds for that to actually happen?
âPeople get together all the time, Y/N, stop being dumb,â Seungkwan, your best friend, would say on the regular since the topic came up basically every other day. Yet, you still didnât believe the Lee Seokmin would ever give you so much as a second glance. He was too perfect. Perfect grades, perfect friend group, perfect face, perfect everything. You had first laid eyes on him on your first day of classes - he had started the same year as you, smile on his face, shiny new MacBook propped in front of him. He wore an adorable baby blue sweater and black rimmed glasses, his hair falling into his forehead and, god, you were gone the second you heard his honey dripping voice.Â
That had been three years ago and now, both of you in your senior years, you still hadnât talked to him even once. Or well, no, you had, when he had asked you for a phone charger which you had given him in exactly three seconds. You were still proud of that.Â
*
âHey, I heard youâre looking for a roommate?âÂ
âAre you- are you talking to me?â Your index finger was pointing at yourself while you blinked a few times at the person in front of you.Â
âUh, I mean, you are Y/N, right?â Kim Mingyu seemed just as confused as you. Probably because you were in fact Y/N and you were, in fact, looking for a roommate, but how on earth did he know that?
âNo, I mean, yes, yes I am, but, uh, how do you- how do you know Iâm looking for a roommate?â
âOh, Seungkwan told me!âÂ
âYou know Seungkwan?!â
Mingyu seems a little startled by your sudden outburst. You cleared your throat before chuckling nervously.
âS-sorry, I just didnât know Seungkwan and you knew each other.â
âWe go to the same gym, actually, and I told him my friend is desperately looking for a place and he told me you are in search of a roommate soâŚ,â his smile was bright and pretty and you felt like you were about to wake up from a dream because why the hell was Seokminâs bestie talking to you as if he had done it thousand of times before?
âI see, uh, I mean, I am definitely desperate for a roommate, rent you know, like, uh, I need to pay it soon and⌠well, I am short half of it and thatâs what I would⌠need the roommate for,â you scratched your ear. Smooth.
âNo, I understand! And my friend is just as desperate. See, he just broke up with his long-term girlfriend, she cheated on him, and now he just really needs to move out.â
âOh, damn, sorry about that. You can tell him he can come by, eh, does tomorrow work? Like afternoon-ish? I have classes until four.â
âAwesome! Iâll let him know, thank you Y/N!â
Mingyu beamed at you, his hand up in the air as he waved, walking away and out of the building. Letting out a sigh you hadnât even known you were holding, you grabbed your phone from your bag and unlocked it, quickly moving your fingers over the display to call Seungkwan. Walking out the opposite direction Mingyu had, you waited for your best friend to pick up, pushing open the door into the hot air of the early evening.Â
âWhatâs up?â Seungkwan finally picked up and you rolled your eyes at the greeting.
âHello to you too, Kwannie,â you said in a sweet voice, hearing Seungkwan scoff as a response.
âIâm in the middle of something, Y/N. So, whatâs up?âÂ
âKim Mingyu just asked me if a friend of his can move in with me,â you raised your brows as you walked over the campus to the parking lot, the keys to your car already dangling from your fingers, âcare to tell me why you didnât mention that?â
âAh, that, well, I actually met Mingyu at the gym earlier today, like super early morning, and heard him talk to his friend on the phone and well, since I do have a few classes with him, I thought I should offer.â
âYou should offer? Pretty sure itâs still my apartment you were selling off to a stranger.â
âNow, now. Mingyu isnât a stranger now, is he? How many times have you stalked his insta now to look at that one specific gym picture of Seokm-,â
âWhatever, just- just please, for the future, let me know when you tell someone about my living situation, alright?â
âSure thing, bestie. Now, can I get back to what I was doing?â
âOf course. Tell Hansol I said hi.â Before he could either protest or deny, you hung up and shoved your phone into your pocket.Â
*
You dreamt of him again. It was a rare occasion, but it happened. Most of the time the dreams were innocent enough, just him touching your face, him laughing at your jokes, him simply acknowledging your existence.Â
But this one was different.Â
Seokmin was right above you, his body hot and sweaty. His eyes said so much more than words ever could and yet you longed to hear his voice. Longed to hear him say your name. He was buried deep inside you, his hips still, eyes never leaving yours. He throbbed, his whole body seemingly vibrated at how much he wanted you, your legs wrapped around his waist, wanting nothing more than for him to take you, mark you, fill you.Â
âTell me what you want,â he whispered, his hand caressing your face and you moved your head, your mouth sucking in his thumb, feeling him twitch inside of you.
âYou canât really talk with that in your mouth, can you, Y/N?â Fuck, his voice was so low so deep and when he finally moved down to kiss your neck, stuffing his thumb even further down your mouth, his hips now beginning to thrust, all of you began to shake.Â
Then, suddenly, you were in your living room, right there on that windowsill that connected the kitchen and the living room, his hips drilling into you. He was wearing a dress shirt and a black tie, but both of it was loosened around his neck, your hands on his broad shoulders as he seemed to have made it his goal to fuck you senseless. You were a moaning mess, his lips sucking harshly on your skin, you yourself being completely naked. His mouth was everywhere: your neck, your stiff nipple, your lips. He took all of you in and you breathed in every bit he gave you.Â
âYouâre so fucking good for me, baby, so good, such a good little slut, letting me fuck her like this.â
âMhm, y-yes, I l-love the way you f-fuck me, Seok!â His grip on you got stronger, hands digging harshly into your hips as he threw his head back now, your eyes taking in all of his beauty. The droplets of sweat, the bopping Adamâs apple as he swallowed, the way his vein popped out right there on his neckâŚ
âGonna make me cum, baby,â he moaned and you nodded strongly, feeling your own climax so close.
âPlease, want your cum so bad!â you whined and as if those had been the magic words, Seokmin emptied inside of you, the feeling of his cum hitting you so deep-
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
You screamed, while your back hit the floor. You had fallen out of bed, your alarm blasting on the other side of your bed.Â
âFuck,â you groaned, sitting up slowly, your hand rubbing the back of your head. Funnily enough, that wasnât the only part of you that throbbed. Just for a completely different reason.Â
-
âYou came in your sleep?â Seungkwan was impressed with you. You just wanted to punch him because why did he have to say that this loud right in the line for lunch?
âShut up!â you said through gritted teeth and Seungkwan snorted, before grabbing the big spoon for the Kimchi.
âDonât worry, no one is listening.â Instead of arguing with him you rolled your eyes and grabbed some Japchae before heading to the drinks.Â
âBut to answer your question: yes, I did. And no, that has never happened before. Like, I never ever had a dream like that, Seungkwan, never!â
âAw, I canât believe my best friend lost her wet dream virginity at the ripe age of 24!â He grinned as the two of you sat down at an empty table. You ignored him.
âIt was so real. I honestly feel sick to my stomach. How could it have been so real?âÂ
It was truly astonishing to you. Hours had passed and the dream was still there, playing in your head over and over again, making you squeeze your thighs together more than not in the worst moments. Statistic class wasnât supposed to make you horny and yet, you couldnât say it hadnât.
âIâm jealous. I never had an actual wet dream make me cum before, like yeah, I woke up with cum in my underwear before, but then again thatâs kind of normal I guess?â
âDude! You donât need wet dreams to make you orgasm, you have a literal boyfriend!â
âHe is not my boyfriend!â Seungkwan protested and you grabbed your juice box to take a dramatic sip from it.Â
âWell, sounds like a you problem. Doesnât change the fact youâre getting laid, though.â Seungkwan scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair. He apparently didnât have a comeback. Served him right.
âItâs not like you are trying to change that,â nevermind. You sigh, putting the drink down again.
âWhat am I supposed to do? Just hook up with a random guy and act like Iâm not madly in love with someone who doesnât know I exist?â
âHe knows you exist, you god damn drama queen. You had every class together first semester!â
You ignored him. Instead, you decided that your Japchae is the most interesting thing you had ever seen. Seungkwan shook his head and clicked his tongue.
âYouâre an idiot, Y/N. Like the biggest idiot I have ever met.â
âTakes one to know one,â you muttered as a response, feeling a piece of kimchi hitting your cheek the next second.Â
*
You were home at four forty-five and hoped there would still be time to clean up the place at least a little bit before the potential-new-roommate-slash-friend-of-Kim-Mingyu showed up. In record time you found yourself standing in a semi-clean living room (meaning: maybe the floor showed some signs of needing to be vacuumed, but at least everything looked tidy) with all the windows open in hope for some cool air because you sure as hell werenât going to turn on the AC without another person to cover the costs.Â
Just as you finished changing into some clothes not sweated through, the doorbell rang. Quickly, you made your way to the door, buzzing them up, only to hear a knock on the door next. Oh, so he had been let in already. Putting on your most charming smile, you pulled the door open, only for the smile to fade the second you saw who stood there right in front of your door.Â
âY/N?âÂ
Lee Seokmin had just said your name. And he was standing in front of your apartment.
âSeokmin, what- what are you doing here?â You asked, oblivious to the situation.Â
âI- uh, I- Mingyu said he told you I was coming?â
âMingyu? No he said that-,â you lost your ability to speak just then. The friend Mingyu had been talking about-
âWait, you- youâre the potential new roommate?!â Your voice was barely anything but a squeak. Seokmin looked a little lost, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his oversized yellow jumper.
âYeah, did he not mention that?âÂ
Nope, seems like he forgot that part. You swallowed, pressing your lips together for a second while your brain tried to fully grasp the situation. This was Seokmin. Aka the guy you have been in love with for three years. And he wanted to move in with you.Â
âUh, no. Sorry, please come in!â You took a step back and Seokmin smiled at you (HE smiled at YOU!!!), walking into your apartment and looking around as you closed the door, hoping your racing heart would calm down. You wouldnât exactly bet on it though.Â
Seokmin took his shoes off and you watched him, already beginning to chew on your lip like you always did when you were nervous. He turned around and you quickly smiled, walking into the living space.
âSo, this is the living room, it uh-,â you stopped speaking, your eyes now on the window connecting the kitchen and living room, on the windowsill you had just dreamt about last night. Your face suddenly got very hot.Â
âIt connects to the kitchen through that window, which I thought was really cool, big selling point,â you watched as Seokmin walked over to the kitchen, his eyes roaming through the room and when he stopped in front of the window, hand touching the sill you nearly felt yourself loose footing. Why the fuck did he have to do this? For a second you were convinced this was just another dream.Â
âIt definitely is unique,â he said, nodding and walking into the small but modern kitchen.
âUhm, there is a dishwasher in the kitchen and a microwave. We donât have an oven, but I am pretty sure I have like a small one in the attic. I am more of a take-out or quick meal kind of gal, so I donât really use it much. But if you were interested in baking something, I could definitely get it down,â Jesus, why on earth were you talking so much? But Seokmin seemed to appreciate it, nodding understandingly as he looked around with a small pout on his lips. Maybe this wasnât the right moment (or maybe it was the perfect moment) to stare at him, but you did. You watched his every move, how he checked out the cupboards, how he asked before he opened the fridge, how he pulled a hand through his hair as he asked a question.Â
Oh!Â
âSorry?â You crossed your arms, the hotness of your cheeks only increasing. Seokmin chuckled.
âI asked if you had a certain system in your fridge with your old roommate.â
âOh, well, not really. We kind of always planned what we were going to eat, she was a big cook actually. Enjoyed it a lot. I store my Ramen right here, wait,â you walked into the kitchen fully now too, to the cupboard next to where Seokmin was standing and got on your tiptoes to reach for the door, opening it in a swing.
âThere,â you explained, looking over at Seokmin - only to see him look at you instead of the food. You blinked a few times. He blushed.
âAh, yes, I see. Cool. So, uh, no system. Thatâs fine with me! I wouldnât say Iâm a cook per sĂŠ, but I can hook up some simple dishes,â he turned away, your whole body suddenly feeling a lot hotter than a second before. Nodding, you closed the cupboard again and walked back outside. Seokmin followed you.
You showed him the rest of the apartment (except for your room) and finally the two of you ended up in the living room again where you sat down on the couch.Â
âI, uh, I would love to take the room, Y/N. But itâs obviously up to you.â His smile was so⌠you gulped down whatever response you had in your mind. Now wasnât the time to eat right out of his hands, no, you had to think about this. On the one hand, you really needed a roommate. There was no chance you could hold this apartment by yourself and you really didnât want to move. But on the other hand, this was Seokmin. You couldnât just let him move in with you when you liked him this much, could you? At least not without him knowing. An idea popped into your head. It was risky and stupid and you would probably regret this. But then again - if he wanted to move in, and apparently he was just as desperate as you to get this room, it would only be fair to let him know what the situation was.Â
âLook, Seokmin,â you started, your hands in your lap, your heart racing again (or still). You looked up at him, your cheeks still bright red. Seokmin watched you, unsure what to make of your current behavior. He decided to just let you talk.
âI really need a roommate. And you really need a place to live. Mingyu, uh, he told me about the break-up and Iâm really sorry about that,â - you were also happy you hadnât tried to make a move considering he had a girlfriend -, âbut I would feel horrible to let you take this room without knowing the full truth.âÂ
Now, Seokmin got a little spooked. The full truth? Were you going to confess that you were a drug dealer? Part of some gang? But then you probably wouldnât need a roommate considering youâd make good money.Â
âI, uh, okay,â Seokmin swallowed hard. You took a deep breath.
âI like you. As in, I like you. I have for years now. I didnât know you had a girlfriend, and to be honest, even if I had, I probably wouldnât have succeeded in getting over this crush. Iâm not telling you because I am expecting anything from you, I promise, hell, I never planned on telling you ever. But you want the room and I would be happy to give it to you, I would just feel weird having you live here with this big secret to keep.â
There were approximately three minutes of silence in which you were sure Seokmin would get up and leave. He stared at you, his mouth slightly dropped and you could have kicked yourself for finding him endearing. Starting to shift on your seat once the third minute started, Seokmin realized he had been staring instead of answering. But then again, he really had not expected this sudden confession.Â
âI, uh, I am flattered, Y/N, really, I just, I- I just got out of a relationship and-,â
âI know that! As I said, I didnât tell you because I want anything from you. I have been happy liking you from afar, Seokmin. And who knows, maybe having you close by all the time will actually make me stop liking you. I mean, what if youâre like a total slob or listen to super weird historical podcasts?âÂ
âWhat do you have against historical podcasts?â Seokmin asked, eyebrows raised in surprise. You chuckled.
âNothing in particular. But my last roommate listened to them on like full blast. Just got annoying at some point.âÂ
He nodded now, understanding. Yeah, he could see why that would be annoying at some point. Still, that wasnât the real issue here. Or, well, was it really an issue? He cleared his throat.Â
âI- I donât take you as someone who would let her feelings get the best of her. And, to be honest, Iâm not really the type of guy you should have a crush on, Y/N. But, uh, Iâm still very flattered. And I donât think this would stop me from moving in, as you said, we are both desperate.â
You were surprised and it showed. Seokmin chuckled.
âOr do you not want me here?â
âNo! I do, I really need you to move in,â you said, tugging a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Seokmin nodded again.Â
âThen itâs settled. Iâll get my stuff asap and then weâll be roomies.â
âCanât wait!â
*
Seungkwan thought you were insane. He hadnât known it was Seokmin when Mingyu had approached him and now he regretted ever offering it.Â
âWhat do you mean you told him?!â He was sitting at your small dinner table in the living room. You shrugged.Â
âWhat was I supposed to do? Just let him move in and carry this huge ass secret with me all the time? I donât think so.â
âYou could have just told him no, Y/N.â
âRight, and then what? I see him in class every other day? How awkward would that be?â
âYou mean as awkward as living with a guy who knows you have a crush on him?!â When you shrugged again, Seungkwan groaned, pulling his hands over his face.
âYouâre seriously insane, I canât believe you did this!â
And about a week after Seokmin had officially moved in, you couldnât believe it either.Â
Living with Seokmin proved to do the exact opposite of what you had mentioned in your chat with him. He wasnât a slob. And he also didnât listen to any podcast on full volume. He cleaned, cooked, gave you space. Every morning he got up earlier than you and prepared coffee, before going out for a jog - only to come back while you were having breakfast, looking all sweaty and sexy. The first time this had happened you had choked on your toast, drinking what felt like one whole liter of orange juice before finally being able to stop coughing. Seokmin had hit your back a few times, apologizing for startling you. And yet, he didnât stop doing it, which made you used to it after a while (it didnât). Â
Instead of falling out of love with him, you found yourself drawn to him even more, craving his presence. When he was gone, you missed him, and when he was home you wanted to hear everything about his day, wanted to eat dinner with him, watch a new episode of that show you had started together.Â
*
Seokmin was outside in the living room, his laptop placed on his lap, an essay he needed to proof read opened as he sipped on a can of beer. He was on his favorite spot on the floor, right in front of the couch, leaning his back against it. Actually, he had wanted to go to sleep an hour ago, but then he had talked with his sister on the phone and now he was back to this. It had been two months since he had moved in with you despite knowing you had feelings for him. Back when you had originally told him, he had felt like he should probably run because the last thing he needed right now was complicated. Things with Hyorin had been complicated enough. But, as he now knew, you werenât complicated in the slightest. More so the opposite. It didnât take long for Seokmin to begin to understand you and your patterns. It also didnât take long for him to figure out how much you actually liked him. If he had been anyone else he might have taken advantage of that. Flirt with you, get you into his bed. But he was Seokmin, he wasnât a guy who would do that. Not that he hadnât⌠thought about it. Seeing the way you looked at him, especially after his morning runs or when he came back from the gym in the evening⌠it took everything in him not to imagine you looking at him that way when he was fucking you.Â
Seokmin wasnât a sex-hungry person, normally. Maybe because he had been in a long-term relationship for five years. But now, with his relationship being over for two months and the periods before that being dry in the sex department⌠he was starting to miss it. Dearly.Â
So, when he sat there on the floor, his head focusing on the contents of this essay he wrote a day earlier in the library, he couldnât really help getting distracted by the sounds coming from your room. His ears perked up and his head turned sideways, throat already drying up. Were you crying? Maybe you were-
âO-oh.â
His laptop slipped from his lap when he got up. His heart speed rose and sweat was starting to form on his hairline. That certainly wasnât the type of crying he had meant. Slowly, he walked over to the door of your room that he only now realized wasnât properly shut. He felt bad, guilty even, when he peeked through the small opening, seeing you apparently asleep. A dream? He licked his lips. Were you dreaming?Â
âS-Seokmin.âÂ
Something inside him switched over. His whole body started to heat up, his cock desperately beginning to twitch in his briefs. Fuck, he hadnât ever expected that hearing you moan his name would do so much. You were dreaming, yes, about him. And he heard you, heard you moaning, the whimpers. And god, did you sound perfect. He leaned against the wall next to your room, letting his dick get harder with every second, waiting for your noises like an addict. He couldnât stop, couldnât get himself to move away and mind his own business. He was intoxicated by you. He took everything he could, every breath, as small as they might be. The sighs following the moan of his name.Â
For now, he only listened. He didnât want to touch himself here, didnât want to be that type of person. But then again, he had already parked himself right outside your room, listening to you having a wet dream, it wasnât like beginning to jerk off would make much of a difference. So, he slowly moved his hand, palming himself over his sweats, feeling how hard he was because of you. He closed his eyes, ears concentrating only on you. He wondered what you were dreaming about. What was he doing to you right now? Was he holding you down as he fucked you? Was he going down on you, tasting you? God, he really wanted to taste you.Â
For a second he contemplated going in and waking you up - making your dream reality. But he couldnât. Not knowing what he did.Â
Opening his eyes, he suddenly felt guilt rushing over him and he was quick to close your door, making his way over to where he had sat earlier and grabbing his laptop.Â
Once he was in his own room, door locked and all, he tried to clear his head of the sounds you had made, of the way it was him you were dreaming about. But with his cock this hard and you so close⌠it was no use. He put his laptop on his desk and laid down on his bed after, taking a deep breath. He couldnât hear you from his room and, god, was he relieved. Not hearing you did not equal not remembering you, though. And so, knowing he was going to lose to his conscience anyways, he opened the drawer in his bedside table and got out the package of lube, squeezing a bit on his right hand, while the left shoved down his sweats and briefs, letting his erection hit the cool air of his room.Â
He sighed in relief when his right hand began squeezing him, head leaned back into the pillows, hand now moving up and down slowly. You were right there in front of his inner eye, the way you sounded, but also the image of how you would look underneath him. Moaning his name, begging him to go faster. Then, he imagined your cheek stuffed with his cock, imagined your teary eyes when he began fucking down your throat.Â
âF-fuck,â he couldnât help but go faster, his hips lifting up his bed as he fucked his fist, wishing it was your pussy or your mouth, any of your holes would do. How badly he wanted to hear you beg, wanted you to be on your knees, mouth open and tongue out, ready to take whatever he was willing to give. Pouty lips and round eyes, wishing for nothing more than Seokminâs cock filling you up.Â
âGod, just like that, Y/N, f-fuck,â he couldnât help but moan as he came, his load landing on his clothed chest.Â
Coming down from his high, Seokmin opened his eyes, blinking a few times before he really understood what had happened. Groaning, he let his left hand rub over his face, before he shook his head and sat up. He got rid of his shirt and threw it in the laundry bin, walking to the door unlocking and opening it to go to the bathroom - only to run into you who just came out of the bathroom. Your eyes grew wide when you spotted Seokmin - shirtless and sweaty and with this certain look in his eyes that made your legs grow weaker.Â
Not knowing what he was doing, Seokmin walked straight over to you, his hands finding the sides of your neck, his lips crashing into yours a second later. You didnât know what was happening, didnât know what to do - but you kissed him back, your hands on his broad back, as he pushed you against the wall, his meaty perfect thigh shoved between your legs now, pressing against your still sensitive core. You gasped into the kiss, his tongue now devouring yours, one of his hands moving down and underneath your shirt, grabbing your breast and squeezing it harshly. Your arms locked around his neck, moans getting caught by his skillful mouth. Were you still dreaming?Â
âSeokmin,â you moaned when his hand squeezed your nipple and only then did he realize what was happening. Immediately, he parted from you, causing you to miss his kiss and touch the second he left.Â
âWhat-,â you began, but before you could even finish the question, he had already turned around and walked back into his room, closing the door behind him. And locking it.Â
*
He acted like nothing happened. You were anxiously waiting in the kitchen the next morning, but once he came back from his run he just showed you his normal goofy self, excusing himself to go take a shower. The way you had stood there, fully ready (not really) to talk about the night before, still in your pjs, still dizzy from the dream you had had as well as the very real kiss afterward. Why had he done that? Had he suddenly turned into a sleepwalker? A sleepwalker that kissed his roommate as if he had been starving?Â
You sure as hell werenât going to bring it up first. So, you played along, pretending like it didnât happen.Â
âI am declaring you clinically insane, Y/N,â Seungkwan was munching away on his corndog, while you and his (not) boyfriend Hansol sat opposite him at one of the smaller booths of the diner.
âHe started it,â you shrugged, grabbing your own corndog now to take a bite from it.
âOkay, and? You could have started the conversation. For example: âHey roomie, so about that night where you came out of your room clearly just done with getting yourself off and then kissed me? Like really hard? Against a wall?â See, that would have been a great conversation starter.â
You deadpanned at him.
âYouâre an idiot,â shaking your head, you leaned back in your seat, âwhat if he really like, I donât know, was in a delirious state? Maybe he drank alone before bed and just had a black out?â
âOr maybe he is an asshole who canât own up to his actions,â Seungkwan shrugged, âbut sure, yours sounds way more likely.â
âSeungkwan is right, Y/N. You should just bring it up,â Hansol looked at you and you sighed, letting your head drop onto the table.
âI donât think I can. Iâm too mortified. What if he totally regrets kissing me and thatâs why he is pretending like it didnât happen?â
âThat still doesnât give him permission to act this way. I donât care if he is deeply in love with you or hates you, I just want him to be humane enough to tell you.â
It stung, the way he was right. Whatever Seokmin was feeling, he had to share it with you. He couldnât just-Â
âAm I going crazy or is Seokmin standing outside?â You raised your head again, eyes wide when you realized you were, in fact, not going crazy. Seokmin was right there outside the diner, on the other side of the street, his phone in his hand, an anxious look on his face.
âDid you tell him you were coming here?â Hansol asked and you shook your head.
âNo, we barely saw each other this morning.â
What was he doing here? And why did he look like he would rather be anywhere else? Your eyes scanned the surroundings, a sour feeling suddenly spreading in your guts. You were only a few streets down from your apartment, the street wasnât exactly busy but had some really good places to eat. This was the perfect meeting spot for-
âWhoâs that?â Seungkwan shifted closer to the window next to you, his eyes squeezed together as if he was trying harder to recognise whoever had just shown up next to Seokmin. You didnât have to know her to⌠know her. Hyorin. His ex-girlfriend that had cheated on him. He had mentioned her to you only a few times, you being a little reluctant to ask considering he knew how you felt about him. But from what you had gathered he hated her, never wanted to see her again. So why was he here now? With her?
âIs thatâŚ?â Seungkwan looked over at you, worry displayed on his face and you pressed your lips together as you nodded.Â
She was beautiful. Tall, long silky black hair. Her skin glowing even from here. She was the girl Seokmin should be kissing in his delirious state, in any state, really. You swallowed down the tears that threatened to spill out and averted your gaze. Your appetite had left you and you wanted nothing more than to flee the scene, go home and never think of this moment again.
âShould we leave?â Hansol asked, looking over at Seungkwan a little helplessly. Seungkwan nodded quickly and his (not) boyfriend grabbed your arm and helped you get out of the booth. As much as you felt like yelling at him that you didnât need this help, as much did you appreciate the gesture. Seungkwan paid at the front desk and you left the diner, your heart in desperate need for some distraction.Â
*
When Seokmin got home that evening, you werenât there. A part of him was relieved while another one already missed your presence. Sighing, he kicked off his shoes and finally slipped down onto the couch, hands rubbing over his face. This whole thing was a mess. Today was a mess. Hyorin had called him and asked him to meet up and because he was who he was he had said yes. He should have known she would just try to apologize for the nth time, telling him it had only happened once and that he was the only one for her. Little did she know that he gave zero fucks at this point. He didnât want her anymore, he didnât love her anymore. She had broken his heart and stomped on it, had lied and cheated, had done all these horrible things to him. And yet, he was somewhat grateful because now he was right here. In your apartment.Â
It was silly, really, because he had been dating Hyorin for two years already when he saw you the first time. You and your cute gray sweatshirt and the high ponytail. You, who had been the cutest person in every single one of your classes together. You, who he couldnât develop feelings for because he had a girlfriend. Unlike Hyorin, he wasnât a cheater. He had loved her, truly loved her. And he had been shattered when he found out about the other guy, feeling like he could never be fixed again. He had to get out of the shared apartment, had to leave it all behind as soon as he possibly could - and he had somehow ended up on your doorstep. It was crazy how the universe worked.Â
And as if that hadnât been enough, you suddenly confessed to him, turning all of his feelings upside down. Because what was he supposed to say? Supposed to do? God, he was heartbroken over Hyorin and yet there was this ray of light in the shape of a girl that loved to spend her evenings watching trashy teen drama and cry over a bucket of Ben & Jerryâs when a character you didnât even particularly like died on screen.Â
Seokmin didnât want to allow him to like you. He was scared that maybe you liking him altered his brain chemistry, that perhaps he would want to be with you only as a rebound and you were too good, too perfect to be anything of that kind. And so, when that night had happened and he had lost his composure, he knew he messed up. He knew you had feelings for him, god, he probably would have figured it out even if you hadnât told him. Not just because of the dream he had overheard but because of the way you looked at him. The way you smiled, the way you laughed. He didnât want you to look at anyone else like that.Â
The sound of a door unlocking filled the quiet room now and was soon joined by the giggles of a girl and the nervous laugh of a guy - and both of these voices were familiar to Seokmin. He immediately got up and walked over to the entry way - only to see Mingyu holding your waist as you, obviously drunk, tried to get out of your shoes.
âMingyu?â Seokmin asked confusedly.
âOh, hey Seok,â Mingyu said, holding you steady as you felt your knees giving in.Â
âWhat- what is going on?âÂ
âWe met at a bar, she was with Seungkwan and his boyfriend-,â
âHe is not his boyfriend!â you interrupted him with a giggle.
âUh, right, Seungkwan and his not-boyfriend were also super drunk and I called them a cab, but I really didnât want to send Y/N home on her own so-,â
âWhy didnât you call me?â Seokmin now came closer, his eyes set on his best friendâs hand around your waist, his insides slowly but surely heating up with something he could only recognize as jealousy.
âUh, I thought you were busy with⌠you know.â
Seokminâs jaw tensed, his eyes fixed on Mingyu who had successfully held you down as you stepped out of your shoes.
âThat has been resolved hours ago, Mingyu.â
âAnd how was he supposed to know that, hm?â The sudden sound of your voice made both men look over at you. Your hand was raised, finger pointed at Seokmin accusingly.Â
âY/N-â, Mingyu started, but you shook your head and finally freed yourself from Mingyuâs grasp.
âNo! No, Iâm tired of this! Was it nice? Seeing your perfect ex again? Do you want to go back to her now? Move out and act like I donât exist? Like you didnât kiss me?â
Mingyu held his breath. You had told him all this in the bar earlier, where he had met you and Seungkwan and Hansol and where he had realized that you were madly in love with his best friend. He felt bad about you having seen Seokmin with Hyorin, but even more did he feel bad because it was also so painfully obvious that Seokmin liked you, too.Â
âI think youâre drunk,â Seokmin noted and you laughed, throwing your hands in the air. Mingyu stayed quiet.
âDo you, now? How observant of you, Seokmin.â
The two of you were staring at each other now, fury in both your eyes. Honestly, you didnât know what he was angry about. After all you werenât the one running back to her ex after kissing him the way he had you.Â
âI, uh, I guess I should go now,â Mingyu pointed at the door with his thumb over his shoulder, âyou seem to⌠well, have a lot to talk about.âÂ
The normally so cheerful and kind Seokmin didnât wish his best friend a good night, nor did he even look at him when he left. Instead he kept looking at you, saw the way you waved at Mingyu and thanked him, your hand squeezing his arm. Lightning was shooting through him. Jealousy was about to eat him up, was about to make him grab you and yell that you shouldnât touch Mingyu like that. It was dumb and he knew it. You made him crazy, you made him dumb. Like a teenager who was in love for the first time, unsure what to make of it.Â
Once the door had fallen shut, you stormed past your roommate, ready to enter your room and not leave it until the next day. Just that you didnât get far. Seokmin ended up grabbing your arm after all, his touch burning on your skin.Â
âMingyu is right, we do have a lot to talk about,â he said in a hushed voice, making you scoff.Â
âFine, then talk.â With whatever willpower you had left, you looked at him. Saw the way his eyes were full of an emotion you couldnât pinpoint - the fury from before still slightly visible but not alone. Perhaps it was anger for you speaking to him the way you had. Or maybe he was just annoyed at you for being drunk and loud and stupid.Â
âLook, Y/N. What happened between us was⌠it shouldnât have happened, alright?â
âWhy? Because youâre back together with your cheating ex?â
âNo! God, no, I would never get back with Hyorin. And I canât believe Mingyu told you about this and-,â
âHe didnât!â You freed yourself out of his grip, your eyes dangerously beginning to prickle, âI saw you. With her.âÂ
He inhaled audibly - he hadnât expected this. You saw him? With Hyorin? No wonder you were this upset. He pulled his hand through his hair.
âShe wanted to talk things out. And because Iâm too nice of a person I told her yes. Y/N, I donât want to be with her anymore. She broke my heart, she hasnât been the girl I fell in love with for ages now.âÂ
âWhy did you kiss me?â If you were honest, you didnât really care about when Hyorin had stopped being the girl Seokmin loved. You were more interested in whether you were.Â
âI shouldnât have done that.âÂ
Pang. Your face flinched before your jaw tensed.Â
âRight,â your voice was smaller than you had wanted it to be, and the tears were even closer to spilling now. Of course he regretted it. Regretted kissing you, regretted making you feel the way you had. Because why would it be any different? Perhaps you should have tried to hook up with Mingyu tonight just to feel something different than this ache inside of you.Â
âI just- fuck, I just donât want to take advantage of you. Of what you feel for me.â
Now, the tears of hurt were quickly changing to tears of anger. This man really had a talent in making you switch emotions in seconds.Â
âExcuse me? You- what?â You laughed bitterly, shaking your head, âdonât do this. Donât make yourself look like a hero because you stepped back from kissing me. You did that because you wanted to. I didnât come onto you even once in all the time youâve been living here. So donât you dare pin this on me or my feelings.â You hated that you began to shake and that your voice was higher than anticipated. You hated that the way he looked at you made you feel small and idiotic, made you feel as if you were the dumbest person on this earth. Instead of waiting for his response, you turned around on your heel, walking into your room and slamming the door shut behind you.
*
No one wanted to be in Seokminâs shoes right now. After your fight he had also retreated back to his room, not exactly sure how to ever face you again. A day later he was at lunch with Mingyu, Cheol and Joshua and they all looked at him like he had suddenly grown three heads.Â
âI canât believe you said that,â Joshua judged, shaking his head. Seokmin sighed, throwing his napkin on the table.Â
âCome on, was it really that bad?â
âYes,â all three of his friends said in union, all their eyes on him, no sign of humor. Seokmin swallowed.Â
âI really thought I was doing the right thing,â he mumbled now, letting his head fall, eyes studying the pattern of the wooden table.
âBy doing what? Pushing away a girl thatâs absolutely crazy about you? That has been nothing but kind and wonderful towards you? That you very obviously have feelings for?â Mingyu snorted, crossing his arms, âno, that most certainly wasnât the right thing to do, Seokmin.â
While Seokmin stayed silent, Seungcheol and Joshua nodded, telling Seokmin, once again, that he was an idiot. It was no use, though. He already knew he was! He knew he had messed up and even though a part of him still thought that, maybe, his intention had been noble, the part was slowly but surely getting kicked out.Â
âAnd what do you expect me to do? I canât just go up to her and tell her that I was wrong for saying that. She doesnât even talk to me!â
âCanât really blame her, can you?â Seungcheol took a sip from his iced tea.
âLook, itâs only been a day. Let her calm down, give her space. Give yourself some more time to come up with the right thing to say. Iâm sure it will be fine, you and Y/N will be fine.â
And as much as Seokmin appreciated the tough love followed by Joshuaâs words of affirmation, he wasnât sure it was really helping him. In fact, he wasnât sure what could help him considering you started ignoring him from then on, even avoiding your shared space to either stay at Seungkwanâs place or just come home once Seokmin was already in bed. Every class you had together, you would sit right by one of the doors, arriving at the latest and leaving as soon as possible. Whilst Seokmin was trying his hardest to come up with a way to apologize to you, to win you back, you were trying your best to forget about your feelings for him. And for the most part it was even successful - you being mad at him and feeling like an idiot whenever you thought about the kiss you two had shared. But then again, only for the most part.Â
âYou canât just force yourself out of love with someone,â Seungkwan said on the nth night youâve been sitting on his couch, a bucket of ice cream in your arms, the AC on the highest setting because, holy hell, was it hot outside.Â
âI can try,â you shrugged, staring at the TV screen. Seungkwan sighed, letting his eyes wander over your frame. You didnât look your best, the hurt definitely coming through with bags under your eyes, your hair looking frizzy, the shirt you were wearing a stain right in the middle and when he had asked you about it, you couldnât even tell him where that had come from.Â
So, when he got a call from Kim Mingyu two days later, he was eager as ever to meet up and hopefully get you off his couch.Â
The setting was in a small coffee shop, Seokmin seated nervously next to Mingyu who had ordered an iced americano for each of them. Seungkwan looked from one handsome guy to the other, clearing his throat.
âSo, Iâm guessing this is about Y/N?â he raised a brow and Mingyu quickly nodded, while Seokmin shifted on his seat, hands clasped around his plastic cup.Â
âYup. Do you have any idea what Seok over here can do to, you know, get her to speak to him again?â Mingyu pointed at Seokmin with his thumb and Seungkwan chuckled as he watched Seokmin slap the thumb away, his cheeks a bright red.
âIâm sorry, I wouldâve never come to you about this, but Iâm desperate at this point. She is never home and when she is, she makes it her mission to not even acknowledge my existence.â
âYeah, when sheâs not home she is at my place. And let me tell you, itâs getting incredibly annoying, considering I have a ânot-boyfriendâ that Iâd really like to invite over,â clicking his tongue, Seungkwan leaned back and grabbed his own beverage, taking a sip from the bright blue straw, âso, I am more than happy to help.â
For a few minutes they brainstormed, Mingyu suggesting that maybe Seokmin should just ambush her, maybe get a pair of handcuffs and- yeah, he was shut down by both Seokmin and Seungkwan rather quickly. Seokmin said that maybe he should just continue texting her and that perhaps sheâd come around, but Seungkwan shook his head, telling him there was no use, he had never met anyone worse at texting and reading texts than his best friend.Â
After a moment of silence in which they all seemed a bit defeated, Seungkwan watched Mingyu take out his phone and open a message he had received on instagram. The only blonde at the table had never been quicker to sit up and almost knock over his drink.
âI know what you have to do.âÂ
-
It had been two weeks since you had last talked to Seokmin and for once you were inside your apartment, knowing that he was at class while yours had been canceled. It was nice to be back home during day time for a change, your feet propped up on the small coffee table in front of the sofa. A book in your lap that you had discarded for a bit to check your phone, only to be hit in the face by a cruel, cruel reality. The book slipped off your lap as you withdrew your legs from the table and instead kneeled on the couch, both hands gripping your phone tightly.Â
âHe has got to be joking,â you mumbled, feeling dizzy as you stared at the mirror pic Seokmin had posted half an hour ago. He hadnât posted in months. Basically since he and Hyerin had broken up. His insta was mainly blank except for a few pictures he had taken of pretty sceneries. Never had he ever posted gym selfies. No. That had been Mingyu, showing off Seokminâs body in his pictures as well as his own.Â
To be fair, there wasnât much body to see on the selfie. It was him in the gym, his long sleeved shirt rolled up above his elbows, showing enough arm to make you head feel crazy. His left hand was holding his phone, his fingers spread over it and, fuck, his hand. His hair was just slightly messy, his jaw and neck on full display and you forgot how to breathe. Arousal pooled in between your legs now and you honestly couldnât even understand why. Perhaps, you thought, because this was the first time you had seen his face in almost two weeks and this picture just fed into all of your small kinks about him. Swallowing hard, you licked your lips and continued to bury your teeth into the bottom one, your pussy already throbbing. How pathetic. Little did you know you were about to become even more pathetic. Only now did your eyes spot the small symbol on the right side of the post, signaling you that there wasnât just one picture. With a throat as dry as the desert, you clicked back on the post, a shaking index finger swiping to the left, only to be met by what could only be described as worse. There you had the body you had so desperately wished for. Leaned back on what you assumed to be a bench press, his legs adjourned in baggy jeans you had seen him wear a handful of times. Back then you had been happy to not see them on him this much because for whatever reason he was even more sexy in them. They werenât even tight (as baggy jeans already suggested), but they still seemed to fit him perfectly. And now, with him manspreading over a bench in the gym, the red-white shirt with a car race theme, sleeves still rolled up, one arm hanging over his right thigh, holding onto the black leather beneath him, showing off a pretty vein you could literally already feel underneath your tongue. He was crazy. Crazy and mean and horrible and you knew all of this on purpose. His fingers on display, his thighs looking so big in those god forsaken jeans. Hair messy, jawline looking so sharp you were sure it could cut glass.
And as if all of this wasnât bad enough, you suddenly heard the door clicking open. Your head jerked up, your eyes wide and your cheeks flushed burgundy. When you saw Seokmin walk through the door and finally into the living room, you felt your phone slip from your hand and onto the couch. He was carrying a gym bag, his hair still slightly damp. His skin was glowing and his eyes were widened in surprise. He most definitely hadnât expected to see you.
âI thought you had class?â He said, his gym bag dropping onto the floor next to him. You slowly got up from the couch.
âGot canceled. Yours?âÂ
âSame.â
Nodding, you came to a stop in front of him, his tall figure towering over you, your chest heaving, head clouded by the smell of his cologne, of the knowledge he had posted that picture most definitely to get to you. With a heartbeat the speed of light, you looked into his eyes.
âDid Seungkwan tell you to post those pictures?â you whispered. Seokmin hesitated. Then he nodded.Â
âDid it work?â he asked, head slightly tilted to the side.Â
Instead of answering, your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to crash your lips against his. Seokmin immediately reacted, hands on the small of your back, pushing you closer. This kiss was different from the first, not less exciting or dizzying, but you felt more in control, felt more like this was it, this was what you had craved for so long.Â
Seokmin, meanwhile, was on cloud nine, your lips feeling so incredible on his. For him this was all he had wanted for the last weeks and while he had gotten that small taste back then, nothing could have prepared him for what he was feeling right now. All sense of self control left his body as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip, asking to be let in. Once your tongues touched, there was no way in hell this was going to end. You moaned into his mouth, your nails digging into his skin while he moved his hands down, wrapping around your thighs to lift you up. Instinctively your legs swung around him, his hands leaving burns where he touched you.Â
He moved over to the couch where you had sat before, sitting down with you now straddling him, both of your hands roaming around the otherâs body. You let your fingers slide under his shirt and together you took it off, lips parting momentarily and letting you admire his toned chest, his abs and shoulders. You took your sweet time, fingers caressing his skin while your lips latched onto his neck, sucking harshly. Seokmin moaned, one hand on the back of your head, while the other laid on your thigh.Â
With every passing second you felt yourself grow wetter, your hips beginning to grind down, both of your clothed crotches meeting, making both of you even more desperate. Seokmin grabbed your face, kissing you passionately once more, thumbs on either side of your cheeks. You whimpered when you felt him buck up, his erection already making your head spin. Never had you ever wanted anyone as bad. Finally, his hands moved to take off your shirt, leaving you in shorts and nothing else. A groan escaped him, hands all over your breasts, lips sucking your hard nipple inside his mouth, your head falling back, hands digging into his scalp. He was devouring your tits one at a time, hands squeezing them harshly as you couldnât help but move your hips against him.
âS-Seokmin, please,â you whined, the arousal literally audible. Hearing you say his name like this⌠Seokmin parted from your chest and instead looked up at you.Â
âSeungkwan told me something,â he whispered, one hand now moving down, while the other was back on your face, âhe told me you take a⌠certain liking to my fingers.â The smirk on his face made you forget to kill Seungkwan later. You licked over your lips, biting down on it after, only to let out a small gasp when his right hand slipped into your shorts, pressing down on the wet spot between your legs. He sucked in a breath.
âFuck, arrenât you wet for me, angel?â He whispered, while his other hand moved to your lips now, his eyebrows shooting up as he held eye contact. You knew what he wanted and you were more than eager to oblige. Parting your lips and stretching out your tongue, Seokmin felt himself twitch as he laid his index and middle finger on top of your tongue.
âSuck,â he then ordered you and without thinking twice, you did as asked. The fingers were long and thin and perfect and your eyes rolled back when you felt him press down on your tongue, his eyes becoming a little crazier with every passing second.Â
âBoth your holes stuffed with my fingers, what do you think?â his voice made goosebumps erupt all over your body, moaning around his digits while nodding wildly. Seokmin chuckled, not saying anything as he shoved your panties to the side, your hips almost automatically lifting so he could coat himself in your juice, his cock growing harder with every inch of him that got blessed with your arousal.Â
âThink you can take two already?â when you nodded again, he immediately let his pretty fingers sink into you, both of you moaning at the contact. He sank in as deep as he could, until every bit was inside of you, knuckles deep, making him feel like he was either going to cum in his pants or simply explode.Â
âGod, you feel so fucking good, angel. Common, fuck yourself on my fingers and donât forget to suck.âÂ
Your body began moving right away. Your mouth was sucking his fingers as if they were his cock, tongue pressing, tongue flicking against them. Head bobbing back and forth as your hips moved up and down on his other hand, his fingers feeling heavenly inside your walls. And when he put his thumb on your clit, you were sure the heavenly feeling would soon get you to cum all over him.Â
âGood girl, doing so well for me, fuck,â Seokmin felt his throat dry up, sweat forming on the top of his head. How badly he wanted to fuck you right now, just get his fingers out and replace them with his throbbing cock - but he wanted to take his time with you. He wanted to see you live out your dream with his fingers buried inside of you, with your saliva coating his one hand and your perfect, sweet arousal the other. He wanted to see you come undone like this, fucking yourself on his fingers, before he took you the way he wanted, making you scream his name and beg him to make you cum with his cock.Â
You felt your orgasm closing in on you, your movements becoming sloppier, eyes rolled back and the fingers in your mouth almost forgotten. Once Seokmin noticed, he grinned, beginning to fuck them inside your mouth himself, a high pitched moan escaping you and making another bit of precum shoot out of Seokminâs cock.Â
âYeah, are you close, baby? Come on, I know you want to cum for me.â He leaned forward, the angle of his fingers changing slightly, hitting you right where you needed him and when his lips began kissing and licking at your neck, you couldnât help but cum hard, your pussy clenching around his fingers over and over again, milking yourself for all you had.Â
âFuck,â he was in a daze, pulling both sets of fingers outside your holes, eyes searching for yours, before closing his lips around the fingers that had just made you cum so beautifully. You whimpered, pussy throbbing at the sight of him licking your arousal from his own digits.Â
âSeokminâŚ,â you cried out and he pulled his fingers back, instead shooting forward now to kiss you again. You could taste yourself on his lips, hands now back around his neck, eyes closed shut as he kissed you with delicious desperation.Â
âFuck me on the windowsill, Seok, please.âÂ
He parted from you only for a second, before nodding and kissing you again, getting up with your legs wrapped around him, finally placing you on the narrow sill, hands gripping your shorts and panties and pulling them off your legs. You watched as he opened his own jeans next, letting them fall to the floor before finally revealing what you had only imagined so far. You couldnât help but stare, your mouth watering at the sight of his big cock, all red at the tip and veiny, thick and a little bent to the left. Oh, how much you wanted him to ruin you.Â
âI canât wait to fuck you, baby,â he purred now, arms back around your body, lips closing around yours again. Every inch of you was on fire, your hands immediately finding his cock, one grabbing his balls, while the other was around his girth, moving up to let your thumb slide over his slit. He twitched in your hand, a beautiful moan coming out his mouth that had you shivering. Spreading your legs further, you brought his leaking cock to your lips, letting the tip circle your clit for a bit, both of you moaning into the other's mouth, before finally lining him up with your sopping core.
âPlease, fuck me, I need you so bad,â your voice was muffled against his lips and he nodded, replacing your hand with his to push inside you, the stretch having your nails dig into his shoulders, whimpers escaping your pink lips as he lowered himself into you until he bottomed out, his forehead now pressing against yours.
âYou feel so good, so perfect around me, baby,â he kissed you softly, hands sliding over your sides up to your tits, and once he began squeezing them again, his lips finding yours, he began thrusting, first deep and hard, before he quickened, your legs pulling him even closer. He was perfect. The way he held you, the way his thumb was on your nipple, lips now sucking on the sensitive skin on your neck, cock fucking you deep and hard and quick, leaving no room for complaints. You didnât know how to ever stop moaning his name, how to be quiet, how to not have your body already signal another climax.Â
âA-am close,â you whined and Seokmin nodded, head now in between your neck and shoulder, kissing every inch of your skin. Nothing had ever felt this good, no sex with anyone had ever made him feel as if he was going to cum within seconds, while also wanting it to never end. He sped up once more, hands back on your face as he wanted to cum with your tongue inside his mouth, with your lips claimed as his. You tried to match his pace, desperate and breathy moans filling the air that already smelled like nothing but sex. There was nothing you could do to prevent the orgasm rushing over you, your walls clenching around his cock over and over again, his movements getting sloppier with every second, your and his salivas mixing, running over both your chins when he finally sucked your tongue into his mouth as he came, hot white cum spreading in your pussy that now milked him for all he had, every little drop as precious as the other.Â
âFuck, oh my god,â Seokmin breathed into your mouth, his hands caressing your hair as he kissed your neck, both of you slowly getting down from your highs. You two stayed like this for a while. Him, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your chin and finally your lips. It suddenly feels like everything has fallen into place perfectly, like this is what should have happened the first time he ever stepped into place, maybe even when you first laid eyes on him three years ago. He stays inside you, your combined releases only slowly dripping out of you. How could he make you feel this precious? This fragile in the best way?
âY/NâŚâ, he then whispers after a while, his hands next to you on the sill, his eyes so soft and yet full of guilt. For a second you think he regrets having done this but then you hear his next words.
âIâm so sorry I pushed you away. I never should have done that. I was scared of my own feelings and of taking advantage of you, and I get now that I should have just talked to you about this instead of acting like I was protecting you when in reality I was just protecting myself,â he caressed your face, a stray lock of hair finds itâs way behind your ear by his finger.
âI get it. And Iâm sorry too, for, you know, completely shutting you out.â You smile weakly and Seokmin chuckles, kissing your cheek again.
âI would have done the same. So, you forgive me?â
âIsnât you coming inside me enough reason to believe I have?â You tease him with a slight grin and he turns red, looking down at him still buried inside your warmth.Â
âThank you. For forgiving me,â he looks up at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, âand also for letting me cum inside you.âÂ
You start laughing, pushing him away slightly by the shoulder and your heart seems to jump out of your chest when he kisses you again. You were sure that youâll never get tired of doing this.Â
-
âSo, if i want you to get turned on Iâll just need to post more gym pics?â Seokminâs arm was around you, both of you freshly out of the shower seated on the couch. You scoffed, but felt your cheeks heat up.
âShut up,â you couldnât help but smile though, the fact he was so close to you, holding you. It was all too much but in the best way possible. You never wanted to let this man go again.Â
âYouâre so cute when youâre flusteredâ, he giggled now, and god, had you ever heard a more adorable sound? You doubted it. Just when you were about to respond (mainly to tell him to shut up again), you heard your phone ring. Looking over Seokminâs lap, you saw your phone where youâd left it. He followed your gaze and grabbed your phone for you, a knowing smile on his lips.
âIf we were to unlock this now, what would we find, hm?â
Ignoring him, you finally picked up. It was Seungkwan.
âHi traitor,â you said, eyebrows raised. Seungkwan scoffed on the other side.
âOh please, you canât tell me yâall didnât fuck.â
Seokmin, who was very obnoxiously leaning in closer to hear the conversation, giggled again, his cheeks turning rosy. You rolled your eyes.
âDoesnât mean I appreciate you spilling my kinks to people you barely know.â
âYou know you do kind of love me for it though. So, you two together now?â You froze in place, while your eyes moved very slowly to look at Seokmin. What you saw made your stomach turn and twist and tumble and millions of butterflies suddenly started dancing Gangnam Style. His eyes were so fond, his features soft, the rose on his cheeks now accented by his bright perfect smile. When he nodded, his hand coming to caress your head, you couldnât help but smile the brightest you ever had.
âAs a matter of fact, yes. Yes, we are.â
2K notes
¡
View notes
recs for u yas
this one is cute bc it is ot13 <;3
cat dad vern
i won't be offended if u don't like this but this is vernon using woozi's studio while he's in there. and woozi also is watching.
long distance relationship vernon comes to visit and they FUCK (this one makes me clench)
guess we'll find out if you have a breeding kink or not
fwb to lovers (ps. i listened to robbers by the 1975 while reading this and i gotta say it definitely heightened the experience)
friends to lovers (weed involvement) (unsure abt this one for u but just in case)
blasphemous church boy joshua
uji is pussy drunk basically (this one made my stomach hurt in a good way)
this is all for now bc it is nearly 4am and ik u have been wanting this for a while so i will add recommendations as i find them <3 happy reading <3
2 notes
¡
View notes
in the eye of the beholder
âł choi seungcheol x fem!reader
âł summary: when you don't like how you look in the mirror, your boyfriend decides to take it upon himself to worship you.
âł word count approx. 6.2k
âł tags: boyfriend!cheol, dom!cheol, possessive cheol. wall sex, fingering, oral; unprotected sex. worshipful sex. cheol's crude mouth, dirty talk. crying during sex from pleasure, mating press, spitting, hair pulling, consensual choking (just a little). pet names (princess, baby, sweetheart, angel, pretty girl, beautiful). simp seungcheol, his real spending addiction. he's going to tell you you're beautiful until you believe it.
âł warnings: MDNI. fat/chubby!reader, insecurity, internalized fatphobia, anxiety. mentions of fatness, stretchmarks, love handles.
âł request: I was wondering if you could make a seungcheol smut with a plus size girl reader and he basically treats you like he worships you and your body right after the reader felt insecure about her body and he says he stills adores you no matter how you look like while doing it
âł note: this is slightly different than the request, but i hope you like it nonetheless!! i think you wanted it to be soft and cute but it. did not end up like that. nyways this is for all my fellow chubby/fat girlies <3 hopefully we will all one day get a cheol seungcheol
honestly, you didn't even know you had made a face. you had heard all your life that your face was too expressive for your own good and that it would land you in trouble, and finally it had. only, trouble had a name and his name was choi seungcheol.
the mirror had never been your best friend. all your life you had been obsessed with it. not in the vainish way, not in the pretty way that girls with hair that obeyed the rules of gravity and whose puberty somehow neglected to give them any acne were.
you were obsessed with the mirror in the way that it was your greatest enemy, your greatest foe, and yet you kept returning. when you used the restroom you couldn't help but pause in front of it, peering close at your pores and frowning. couldn't help but hover and look, taking note of every flaw. you stopped in front of the mirror before you left your apartment, eyes sharply taking in how your pants clung too tightly around your waist and not enough around your knees, how your middle seemed to be the first and only thing anyone would ever see when they looked at you.
so when you put on a dress from last spring your first instinct was to look in the mirror.
you had liked the dress. liked how it felt brushing around your knees, liked the colors of the little flowers and bees. you liked how the sleeves were long enough to cover your arms, liked how the dress didn't cling to your middle.
but then you went to the mirror.
you heard seungcheol as he moved about the apartment, sighing and grumbling about something.
"i just don't understand how mingyu can be so fucking happy all the time," seungcheol whined.
"we've been filming all fucking day --" did the dress hug your breasts too tightly? "-- and he's still fucking smiling away like someone sucked his dick before filming --" did it cling to your ass too much? "-- and even fucking seokmin was getting tired of it!" and when you turned you were wide, you were wide and fat and --
seungcheol's voice suddenly came from behind you, making you jump. you spun around, eyes wide as you looked up at your boyfriend, trying rather poorly to catch your breath.
"and what's going on here, sweetheart?"
immediately you knew you were caught. seungcheol's voice had that deadly sort of sweetness to it he only got when he was peeved about something and trying to shove it down. but your boyfriend was more passion than anything else, and his eyes seemed to sharpen as he stood in front of you.
even if his voice and face hadn't given away his irritation, the petname did. sweetheart. he only ever used it when he was pissed and trying to cover it, when he was trying to use his sweetness as a way to distract himself.
"i'm --" you crossed your hands in front of your stomach, covering it. "just looking at the dress."
but crossing your arms was the wrong move. seungcheol moved closer, his thick brows raising. disbelief practically radiated off of him.
he didn't need to verbally question you, however. all seungcheol had to do was cross his own arms over his chest, making his chest bulge and forearms flex, raising his brow and twisting his lip in disapproval, and your insecurities were bubbling up and out.
"it's just --" you spun around, back to the mirror. "look at me, seungcheol! look! i'm so! i look like a fucking whale --"
as soon as the word left your mouth he was on you, his arms wrapping around you and bringing you flush to his chest. seungcheol buried his chin into your shoulder, causing you to tense at the little flash of pain from it. but you didn't move, letting him press his hands to your stomach, mapping it, before they settled on your hips.
"what did i fucking say about that word, princess?" seungcheol hummed, eyes glinting dangerously.
you swallowed, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "but --"
"since you seemed to forget," he rushed on, raising his voice to drown yours out. "i'll just have to remind you."
"seungcheol," you said, hands going to his and lifting them off of you. you didn't want him to touch you when you were like this, as if your poor nature would somehow leak into him and tarnish him. "seungcheol, i'm just fat and ugly, and i'm going to change my dress and it doesn't need to be a whole thing --"
seungcheol pulled his arms from your grasp, bringing a sharp gasp from your lips. then your boyfriend was wrapping one arm around your middle, bringing your body flush against his. his other hand went to your face, holding and guiding it to look at the mirror square-on.
"seems like i've been neglecting my duty as your boyfriend," he announced, voice stern. he cocked his head from where he rested it on your shoulder, black curls shifting into his eyes.
your stomach twisted at his words, guilt immediately flooding through you. "no -- cheol, it's nothing to do with you, it's all me. you're perfect --"
"and so are you, baby," he interjected, squeezing you. his hand traveled from your face, fingertips dragging down your neck and over your collar, his tough light enough to make your skin erupt out in goosebumps. "you're absolutely perfect."
your face instantly contorted, doubt heavy. seungcheol sighed, joining his hands together around your waist and interlocking them. "princess. you know what i think about all of this."
"i know," you agreed.
this wasn't the first time your insecurities about your body and its shape reared their heads. it was such a heavy subject, one that you constantly tried to ignore; seungcheol, on the other hand, wanted to meet them head-on. he was the sort of person who didn't shy away from problems, especially when it came to those he loved.
so he saw your insecurities, saw all of your self-hatred and how it shimmered just beneath the surface all the time. you knew he hated it. you knew he hated your doubt and insecurity, but it wasn't something that just could be stopped on a whim.
seungcheol led your bodies into a sway, eyes still on your figures in the mirror. "and you know i love you."
"i do." you knew he did. choi seungcheol loved you, and this was a fact of the universe, just as the moon is a cold rock and the sun is hot gas and water is made of hydrogen and oxygen and choi seungcheol is made up of love for you; and you, him.
"and i know you're beautiful." he tilted his head, pressing his lips against the fabric covering your shoulder. "i think you're beautiful right now, in this cute little dress. i think you're beautiful when you're asleep. when you're eating. when you're doing nothing, when you're concentrating. i think you're gorgeous, baby. doesn't that matter?"
you swallowed, leaning back into his hold, letting seungcheol accept your weight. it did matter; it does. you treasured seungcheol more dearly than you ever could yourself, and you valued his opinion and thoughts more than any gold or ruby.
but the world wasn't made of choi seungcheols.
it was made of strangers with superficial thoughts, who didn't care about the inside of the person, the heart and soul, as long as the outside shined; didn't care if the rock in their hand was pyrite as long as the outside glimmered with gold; as long as the person in front of them fit their narrative.
you knew that, as soon as you walked outside of your apartment, you would be subjected to the world. to people who may look over you without a glance, who wouldn't give you a second look. but there was also people who would squint and guffaw, who would see your love handles and the stretchmarks on your arms and let their hatred roar.
you valued seungcheol so much; treasured him so much. you would take a single seungcheol over a thousand strangers any day. so why did the stranger matter so much when it came to your appearance?
"what other people think don't matter," he murmured, dropping another kiss to your shoulder. "what they see doesn't matter. isn't that what you tell me?"
"it's different," you mumbled, eyes dropping to his hands. you settled your hands over his, watching as he turned his hands to grab yours and squeeze.
"how is it different, princess?"
you sighed, pressing your thumbs into his hands, letting him rock the two of you back and forth. you knew where this conversation was going, knew you were walking into his trap. "because you're beautiful."
he hummed. "but not to everyone."
"they're stupid if they don't think you're beautiful," you huffed, flicking your eyes up. seungcheol's eyes had softened, twinkling at you. he was looking at you like a poet looked at a flower, an artist their muse, a fan their idol; he was looking at you with adoration. "cheol . . ."
"you took the words straight from my mouth, baby." he straightened, tossing his head a little to shake his curls from his eyes. "tell me, princess. what's the definition of fat?"
you rolled your eyes. seungcheol maneuvered you, turning you from the mirror and towards him. you knew what he was getting at, but still you played along. "plump. having excess."
seungcheol nodded, pouting out his lips in thought. he brought your conjoined hands up, resting them on your shoulders. "and ugly?"
"offensive to look at," you recited, knowing that if you didn't he would bring out his phone and pull up the dictionary.
"and where do those two overlap?" he questioned. "where do the definitions line up? are they synonyms?"
his hands moved from your shoulders, hovering over your skin as he moved them. seungcheol settled his hands around your waist, squeezing. "no, but for some people --"
"if they find fat people offensive," he broke in, "then they have something wrong with them and should take a closer look in the mirror and see the true ugliness of their heart."
seungcheol finally sighed, letting his eyes close. he used his grip on your body to tug you into him, wrapping his arms around you. you went easily, letting seungcheol hold you, eyes sliding shut.
the two of you stood for a handful of moments, basking in the presence of the other. seungcheol was warm and strong, the line of his body sturdy against yours. it was like his love, you thought, warm, strong, never-wavering.
seungcheol pulled away, one of his hands coming up to cup your face. his eyes were soft and sweet, filled with the love for you that his heart couldn't contain, his entire being drenched in it. "you're beautiful, princess. fat or skinny, dress or sweatpants, messy hair or freshly done. you're absolutely gorgeous, and i love you. i love you."
the weight of his mouth against yours had you sighing, eyes fluttering. seungcheol kissed you sweetly, tenderly, warmly; as if he could force the love he had for you into your body and soul through kissing you.
his hand sunk into your hair, using the grip to angle your head. he tugged your lower lip between his, a little gasp escaping you.
"seungcheol," you breathed, his lips detaching from yours. he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth before carrying on. his lips skimmed your chin; your jaw; your neck. they coaxed sighs and gentle exhales out, your body turning towards his, a sunflower chasing the sun.
"you're beautiful," he declared, voice as sure as the dawn. his words were warm against your skin, breath hitting it and causing goosebumps to break out. "you're perfect. my perfect girl."
and then seungcheol's pushing you against the wall next to the mirror, his lips attaching to your neck and sucking. you moaned out his name, arms coming up and around his shoulders, baring your neck for him as an offering.
"such a pretty girl," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the hickey he left before he moved on. "pretty girls deserve to be rewarded, don't they, princess?"
seungcheol fell to his knees in front of you, the dull thump making you wince. then he grabbed your knee, pushing up and out, bringing it over his shoulder.
"cheol," you breathed, all air seemingly leaving your lungs. "seungcheol, seungcheol."
he grinned, eyes shining as he kneeled between your legs. "that's me, princess."
seungcheol pushes forward, using the hand not keeping your thigh hooked over his shoulder to push up your dress. he paused for a moment, the silence taking over the room. "you -- you're not wearing panties, baby."
"was just trying the dress on," you whined, sinking your hand into his dark hair. his locks were long enough that you could pull and tug, wrap them around your fingers and marvel in their softness. "didn't have a chance to put any on."
"perfect," he replied. "if i had my way you'd never wear panties, you know?"
before you could reply seungcheol was disappearing underneath your dress. you couldn't help but jump when his fingers pressed against your pussy lips, prodding and feeling the warmth there.
"even down here is pretty and perfect," he hummed.
thoroughly embarrassed, you began saying his name in a scolding tone. but as soon as the first syllable was leaving your lips he was attaching his to your cunt, running his tung up the length of your pussy.
his name ended up leaving your lips in a loud cry. you threw your head back against the wall, the dull thud not rendering as your boyfriend repeated the action, using his spit to wetten your cunt.
"gotta get wet for me, baby." seungcheol shifted closer, and then his tongue was brushing against your hole. you clenched immediately, gasping in surprise. but then he was shoving his tongue in, humming.
seungcheol ate you messily, pressing his entire face against your cunt. he used his spit and spread it along your cunt with his tongue, lapped at your hole and pressed a fingertip underneath it, massaging the muscle and coaxing it.
soon enough you were drenched, your cunt soaking your boyfriend's face as he continued to eat you out. he slurped against your pussy, swallowing your juices eagerly. he pressed a line of kisses from your hole to your clit, and then he was wrapping his lips around it and sucking while his fingers poked at your hole.
seungcheol worked his tongue against your clit as he inserted a thick finger into your cunt. his fingers were so thick, the stretch always causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head, burning in the best way. seungcheol continued working you until his pointer finger slid fully inside of your cunt, the slide easy due to your wetness.
he pressed a kiss to your clit, causing you to clench around him. seungcheol laughed, and when he spoke his voice was thick in his throat. "such a good girl, princess. took my finger so well. you're so wet and tight, so perfect for me. but you're always so perfect, aren't you?"
you felt his second finger slide along your folds, collecting your fluids. you scrambled against him in anticipation, your fingers sinking into his curls and clenching down.
"that's right princess," he murmured, slurping against your clit, his voice soft compared to the loud squelching of your cunt. "gonna make you feel so good, gonna make you forget anything but my name."
his second finger probed against your hole and then, in a fluid movement that had your stomach clenching, slid in alongside the first. his fingers were so fucking thick, so fucking thick and large and filling. seungcheol could move his fingers easily in your cunt, your pussy offering no resistance.
"you're so wet, baby," he pressed his mouth against your clit and slurped, the vibrations of his mouth earning a loud squeal from yours. "so tight around my fingers. dunno how we'll fit my cock inside, princess."
he moved his face from your cunt, pressing his mouth against the thigh hooked over his shoulder and kissing. in doing so seungcheol spread your fluids along your skin, creating a mess along your thigh. meanwhile his two fingers continued moving inside of you, your cunt clenching around them eagerly in a poor attempt to keep them wedged inside.
"but i know you'll take my cock, won't you, princess?" seungcheol flicked his eyes up at you, though you didn't notice. you were too lost in your own pleasure, your hands pulling at his hair while you squeezed your eyes shut. "you always take my dick so good, baby. always feel so perfect around it, your tight little cunt so perfect for my fat cock."
his words pulled a full shiver from your body, muscles tensing. seungcheol grinned against your skin. he slid his ring finger in alongside the other two, the stretch bringing a loud cry from your lips, back arching against the wall and thigh tightening around him.
seungcheol chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to your thigh. then he began alternating between sucking and nipping, the little sparks of pain making your toes curl and bringing out sweet gasps.
you came with a loud cry, your orgasm long and prolonged, gently coaxed into being by seungcheol's steady fingers and wicked mouth. he continued working at you even as you spasmed around his digits, cunt clenching.
"fuck, baby," he laughed. "your cunt's squeezing so tightly around my fingers. do you wish it was my cock, hm? wish it was my cock you were squeezing around so you could milk it dry? wish i was dumping into you, filling you with my spunk?"
the crudeness of his words drew a low moan from you, fingers digging into his hair. seungcheol knew his words could twist your stomach and bring heat coursing through your body just as well as his actions could and he never missed out on the opportunity to do so.
his dark, sweet eyes were always watching you after all. taking in how you looked at yourself in mirrors, how you always seemed to linger around toddlers with a soft smile; how you always seemed to go still whenever he uttered words like spunk and cunt.
being known was mortifying, but being known by choi seungcheol? being known by choi seungcheol meant a double-edged sword of comfort and cunning, of using your own preferences and perversions against you.
seungcheol pulled back, slipping his fingers from your cunt. he held up his hand, getting your attention.
you gasped, appalled. his hand was soaked from your fluids, and when he spread out his fingers strings of your juices connected them. his hand and forearm practically shined in the light, drenched in you.
seungcheol stood from the floor, knees cracking, guiding your thigh off of his shoulder. you stumbled, knees weak and unable to properly hold yourself up. seungcheol's clean hand immediately went to your waist, steadying you.
"careful, pretty girl," he warned, pressing you against the wall to help steady you. he brought his dirty hand up to your mouth, fingers tugging at your bottom lip. "okay princess. come on, open your pretty little mouth for me."
you obeyed, parting your lips. seungcheol slid his three fingers into your mouth, immediately filling it. for a moment you were overwhelmed, the weight of his fingers inside your mouth nearly suffocating, tears biting at the corners of your eyes.
then you breathed out through your nose, calming yourself. you brought your hands up around his wrist, holding seungcheol's hand still. then you brought your tongue up and against his digits, tasting your orgasm, licking it off of his fingers and swallowing around them.
"that's a good girl," he hummed, eyes half-closed as he watched you. his dark lashes, which were thick and long and devastatingly beautiful, fluttered. "fuck you're so beautiful with my fingers in your mouth, baby."
you hummed around his fingers, squeezing his wrist in your grip.
seungcheol cursed softly, pulling his hand out of your mouth. he placed both of his hands on your waist, guiding you off of the wall and towards the bed.
"fuck you're gorgeous," seungcheol said, admiring you. your hair was messed up from being against the wall, spit smeared around your mouth from taking his fingers. "my beautiful girl."
then he was kissing you, mouth eagerly clashing against yours. seungcheol practically devoured your mouth, tongue taking and claiming yours for his own.
his hands went to your dress, bunching up the skirt. seungcheol brought it up over your hips, hands sliding along your skin. he pulled his mouth from yours, kissing along your jaw.
"gotta get your dress off, angel." seungcheol separated from you just long enough to help you pull off your dress, baring your body for his eyes. his eyes darted over your body, biting his lip and greedily taking you in.
"that's my beautiful girl," he announced, pleased. his hands went to your love handles, squeezing possessively. seungcheol traced his fingers long the ridges and valleys of your stretchmarks, hands smoothing over the fat of your middle and holding, massaging. "fucking beautiful."
you sighed, shaking your head softly. but you pressed into seungcheol all the same, letting his hands continue their journey, memorizing your body as if he hadn't seen it a thousand times before.
seungcheol, just as he was passionate, was covetous. he would say as much himself, laughing as he presented whatever high-end piece of clothing he recently splurged on for one of you. he treated his greed as a part of him, something he earned and respected.
what's the problem in liking pretty things, princess, he laughed, pulling away so he could admire the new necklace he just placed around your neck. i'm just a simple man who likes beautiful things. that's why i chased after you.
so he greedily drank your body in, enraptured by its beauty. the fat of your thighs and hips, the curve of your stomach; the hang of your breasts and the valley between, the stretchmarks along your arms and waist. his tough was gentle and sweet, almost reverent, like a devoted worshiper before his most precious goddess.
seungcheol's mouth went to your neck, plump lips skimming alongside your skin. he went to your shoulder, biting the skin there gently.
"okay baby," he hummed, pulling back. seungcheol softly guided you to the bed, his touch still delicate. you leaned back on the bed, bracing your hands against the mattress. you bore your body to him, unconcerned momentarily with your modesty and instead enraptured by his.
his hands went to the hem of his hoodie, pulling the large article off. seungcheol's body was filled, biceps and shoulders thick. he had lost the severity of his abs in the few weeks of break, but they still lingered and drew your eyes.
"keep looking at me with those sweet eyes of yours and i'll have to fuck you until tears are coming out of them," seungcheol smirked, his hands resting on the waistband of his sweats. "but i think i'll be doing that anyways, princess."
you shifted, reaching and brushing your hair back and off of your shoulder. you glanced down at his dick without realizing it. you could see the fat imprint of it through his sweats, the sight of it making you salivate and your cunt clench.
slowly, tantalizingly, seungcheol hooked his fingers into the waistband of his pants. he pulled both his pants and underwear down over his ass, past his thick thighs and then seungcheol was stepping out of them.
his dick was large and thick and red, standing at attention. he took it in his hand, hissing at the contact. you watched, enchanted, as he dragged his hand alongside the dick, coaxing precum from its tip.
"god, baby," he groaned, shutting his eyes. seungcheol took his lower lip in his mouth, sucking at it. "your fucking eyes, princess."
seungcheol played with the tip of his dick with his fingers for a moment before releasing it. then he stepped forward and to the bed, fitting his body between your legs. when he offered his fingers to you you immediately opened your mouth, accepting his fingers in.
his precum was slightly bitter to the taste, but you sucked at his fingers anyways, welcoming it.
"that's a good girl," he sighed before withdrawing his fingers. "up on the bed, princess."
you moved, dragging your knees onto the bed as to climb further up it. as soon as you were turned to seungcheol his hands were on your hips, thumbs pressing into the fat of your ass.
"fucking hell," he groaned, fingers pressing into your body. "your ass, baby. i never get tired of looking at your sweet ass, always looks so good."
he squeezed your middle once more before he released you, hands settling along the curve of your ass and guiding you up the bed. once you were at the head of it you plopped onto your back, legs immediately opening for him.
seungcheol kneeled before your body, hands settling on your knees. his eyes roamed your body, drinking you in. "you look so perfect like this, you know that? spread out on the bed for me, all bare and ready. ready for my dick, ready for me to stuff my cock inside your cute cunt."
seungcheol dipped his head, pressing a kiss to your knee. "i wish you knew how beautiful you were, baby. but if i have to spend the rest of my life convincing you, then that's what i'll do."
he glanced up at you, dark eyes piercing through your own. "if i need to spend the rest of my life fucking your cunt raw for you to be convinced, then i'll do it. gladly."
seungcheol moved from you, reaching up past your head. he grabbed a pillow, his free hand going to your hips and guiding them up so he could shift the pillow beneath them. he resumed his position of kneeling before you, hands bracing on either of your knees.
slowly, as to not strain your body too much, he began pushing your knees back and up, revealing more and more of your cunt to him. the stretch burned slightly as your muscles protested the new positions he was putting you into, but you didn't protest.
once your thighs were pressed against your chest, seungcheol stopped manipulating you. he groaned a little, eyes taking in your plush figure. "fucking gorgeous, baby."
then his hand was on his dick, pressing the fat head against your hole. your breath hitched in your throat, eyes shutting at the pressure of his dick. "cheol -- cheol, you're so big --"
he laughed breathlessly. seungcheol continued to steadily press his dick inside of you. you watched, transfixed, as your boyfriend worked his tongue around his mouth; pursed his lips; and then he was leaning over your cunt, a thick wad of spit dropping from his mouth and onto where his dickhead pressed against your hole.
you groaned, pussy clenching. seungcheol's hand went to your cunt, massaging around your hole, coaxing it to take in his fat dick. you relaxed into the bed, pleasure manifesting itself warmly in your gut at his fingertips.
seungcheol's dick slid inside. you keened, tossing your head back against the pillows as his dick split you open. he cursed, voice low in his throat, and then seungcheol was laying himself against you.
he used his weight to press your thighs close to your chest, to keep your body trapped beneath his. you were practically flat against the bed from his body, seungcheol all around you, the scent and feel of him flooding your senses.
"fuck," he hissed, lashes fluttering. "fucking so tight for me princess, so tight and warm and fucking perfect. you're so perfect, baby, so goddamn perfect for me"
his hips pressed against your ass, signifying he was fully sheathed inside. seungcheol gathered his breath as he waited for your cunt to relax around him, his large hands sliding beneath your knees and squeezing.
he turned his head, pressing a kiss to your leg. "that's a good girl," he murmured, nose brushing alongside your skin. "taking me so beautifully."
you hummed, sucking on your lower lip. you felt so incredibly full with his dick inside of you. part of you, the more animalistic part of you that was kept tucked away, wished you could feel like this all the time. wished you always had his dick balls-deep inside of you, pressing at your core and forcing your walls to accommodate him.
but, as good as warming his dick was, you wanted more. you may have been full from his cock, but you were still starving.
so you rocked your hips up as best as you could with his full weight on top of you, urging his dick in further.
"fuck," he breathed, pressing his forehead against your leg. "fuck. okay. okay, baby."
slowly seungcheol withdrew from your body. the drag of his cock against your walls had you whining, grinding up into the air in a poor attempt to put his dick back inside.
he stopped once his cockhead was tugging at your hole, looking down at the place where the two of you were joined. "shit, princess. even this part of you is beautiful."
you wanted to reach out and smack his head. instead you felt heat rise to your cheeks at his shamelessness.
"fuck me, cheol," you begged, furrowing your brow. you reached out, grabbing onto his shoulders and trying to force him closer. "please, cheol. please fuck me."
"aw," he cooed, dark eyes twinkling. "you even beg prettily. as a matter of fact --" he guided your legs as he spoke, hooking them over his broad shoulders. "-- i think i'd like you to beg a little more for me, baby. let me hear your pretty mouth."
"seungcheol," you whined, desperate. you wanted his dick back inside of you, wanted seungcheol to impale you on his dick. you wanted him to take you, wanted to feel him ravage your body. you -- "want your dick in me, cheol. want you to fuck me like -- like i'm the prettiest fucking thing and you want to make me yours."
seungcheol blanched for a moment, eyes widening at your words. then a curse escaped his mouth, and he was bracing his heads on either side of your head. he sheathed his cock back inside your cunt smoothly, without any of the caution he had exhibited earlier.
"fuck," you moaned, trying to arch up into him to no avail. his body was pressing you firmly against the bed still, leaving you no room to move about, no room to do anything other than take his dick. "fuck, please, cheol --"
he withdrew, and then he impaled you with his cock just as quickly. seungcheol moved swiftly, shoving his dick in you without any hesitance. his hips slapped against your ass hard enough to bruise them, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin ringing in your ears.
the pain of his fucking was nothing compared to the pleasure. his thick cock dragged against your walls, the head of it fat enough to hit your core with every strike. you couldn't do anything, powerless against his strength and power.
the warmth in your gut was expanding, the liquidy feel taking over your limbs and rendering them useless. you couldn't do anything, eyes rolling into the back of your head, mouth hanging with moans escaping.
"that's it pretty girl," he groaned. seungcheol moved one of his hands off of the bed, placing it around your throat. he did nothing other than flex his hand against your neck but still the action had you whining, voice going high in your throat.
"fucking sound so good," he breathed, his cock drilling into you at a horrid pace. "fucking taking my cock like a good girl. shit -- your cunt's perfect. so fucking perfect. your perfect fucking eyes, perfect hips and thighs, perfect ass and breasts. perfect -- fucking -- cunt --"
he accentuated each of his words with a well-aimed thrust into your cunt. "fucking -- made for me, all beautiful just for me."
"just --" you gasped, throat working his hand. "just for you."
"say it," he demanded, voice dark and stern. "want you to say it, pretty girl."
you squeezed your eyes shut, but he was immediately squeezing your throat in retaliation. "keep your eyes open, baby. want you to look me in the eyes and say it."
your eyes flew open at his command, mouth gaping. but you obeyed, that thick dick rendering you useless to even think about going against seungcheol. "i'm -- i'm beau -- beautiful --"
"for fucking who," he hissed, mouth in a smirk. "who are you made for, princess?"
"you!" you cried, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. you wanted to cum so badly, wanted that knot in your gut to just snap. "you, cheol! i'm beautiful just for you!"
seungcheol's smirk widened, and then his hand was squeezing against your throat. he held it, fucking into you fluidly, hand heavy on your neck.
"fucking beautiful," he agreed. seungcheol lifted his hand from your throat, and as soon as you were gulping down a lungful of air, you were cumming.
it hit you like a truck, causing your mind to blank and your breath to escape you altogether. you couldn't do anything, your cunt spasming around seungcheol's cock, trying to milk it.
"that's it," he praised you, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. "that's a good girl."
you whined as soon as you could, chest rapidly heaving to get air back into your lungs. "cheol -- cheol, please --"
"gonna fuck my cum into you, pretty girl," he vowed, dark brows pressed together. "gonna paint your pussy with my spunk."
"please!"
seungcheol pulled out of you, drawing a loud whine from your lips in protest. but then his hands were on your hips, flinging you onto your stomach. he man-handled you, his hand settling on your shoulders and forcing them into the bed, the other hand on your hips and bringing them up and baring your ass.
his dick pierced your cunt again, the action drawing a squeal from your mouth. you couldn't -- your cunt clenched down on his dick in protest, begging for some sort of relief from his ministrations. your mouth refused to close, spit leaking freely from your lips, your tears falling from your cheeks and joining your spit to stain the pillow.
"so much," you moaned, "cheol -- it's so much --"
but then you were driving your hips back onto him, seeking out his dick.
"fuck, baby," he moaned. he placed his hands on your love handles, squeezing the flesh. then he was gripping your hips harshly, enough to leave bruises, using them to snap your body back onto his cock.
"fuckin -- so good, baby -- perfect little pussy, perfect fucking body --" he moved one of his hands from your hip, sliding it down along your back. seungcheol gripped your hair, pulling. "fucking beautiful taking my cock like this, taking it like a good girl, so perfect and beautiful and mine."
you were already sensitive from having cum twice before, so it didn't take but a handful more harsh thrusts before you were squealing, clenching around his dick. fresh tears sprung to your eyes, your shouts muffled by the pillows.
your body went completely lax in seungcheol's hold, your legs giving out. exhaustion struck you, seeping into your body and mind, muddling it all. but seungcheol carried on; he wrapped his arms around your middle, keeping you propped up so he could continue fucking you.
"gonna cum in you," he warned, nails digging into your flesh. "gonna cum and fuck it in, gonna fill you until your little pussy is drowning in my spunk --"
weakly, you clenched around him in response. seungcheol groaned, a loud thing that tore through his throat. you could feel him as he came, could feel the cum fill your cunt. seungcheol continued thrusting into you, using your body to milk his dick.
"what a good girl you are," he praised, hands releasing their severe grip on your hips. seungcheol didn't pull from you, but instead he turned your body so you were facing him. he grinned down at you before he lowered himself, laying his body on top of yours.
you hummed, pleased at the extra weight. you gathered the energy to sink one of your hands into his curls and pull, but other than that you were still, basking in your post-orgasmic state.
seungcheol pressed his face into the valley between your chest. sweat clung to both of your bodies like a second skin, but neither of you paid it any mind. especially not seungcheol as he ran his lips over your breasts, placing sweet little kisses.
"so beautiful," he murmured, eyes flicking up to yours. seungcheol's gaze was soft and sweet, adoration pouring from his very soul. "you're so beautiful, baby. i love you and your body so much. love you, adore you, cherish you. "
and when his mouth continued to travel along your body, mapping it out with his lips, you began to believe him.
2K notes
¡
View notes
kim mingyuâs (unhelpful) guide to losing your virginity
â youâre telling me that you, Miss Dick Repellent, had sex with Captain Chastity By Choice over here. â
PAIRING ⸠kim mingyu x fem!reader
GENRES ⸠smut, fluff, humor, college au, best friends to lovers au, friends with benefits au
WARNINGS ⸠profanity, alcohol consumption, rated m for mingyu, slow burn, he fell first but she fell harder but then he tripped and ate shit, probably the most self-indulgent thing iâve written, mingyu and mc are both virgins, sexual content, sexual tension, protected and unprotected sex (i would not advise doing the latter), lots of teasing and banter, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, wall sex, couch sex, public sex, mingyu discovers what pasties are, soonyoung orders 20 connect fours, they are avid enjoyers of the barbie movies
SUMMARY ⸠after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didnât), youâre shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).
PLAYLIST ⸠perfect by one direction ⢠spell by niki ⢠fatal flaw by ellise ⢠give me a kiss by lolo zouaï ⢠step? by bibi
WORD COUNT ⸠31,273 words
AUTHORâS NOTE ⸠someone (fia) once told me i write too many college aus. i said yeah ur right. and iâm gonna do it again
âBIRDS AND BEES CANNOT PHYSICALLY FUCK.â
You sounded more distressed than informative while you were trying to reason with your longtime best friend, Kim Mingyu. He, on the other hand, appeared visibly worked up over this childish level of argument you two were having.
âIt is a metaphor,â he said. âEveryone knows birds and bees arenât screwing each other up in the trees.â
You still couldnât wrap your head around it. Hours ago, you had fucked yourself over after Kwon Soonyoung had casually brought up the topic of body counts. After everyone in your friend group went around listing theirs (Soonyoung: 3; Jungwoo: 3; Minghao: 2; Vernon: 5), you accidentally blurted out that your body count actually existedâone, to be exact.
This was a problem because, to everyoneâs prior knowledge, you were a virgin.
Keep reading
9K notes
¡
View notes
raw. (m.l)
PAIRING: mark lee x afab!reader
GENRE: smut
WORD COUNT: 3.4k
SYNOPSIS: you find out you're out of condoms as soon as you and mark are about to have sex. feeling defeated, mark opts to go relieve himself in the bathroom but you suggest maybe that its time for him to finally fuck you raw.
CONTENT WARNINGS: explicit content, established relationship, light touching, starts off with sweet!mark then switches to pussy drunk!mark, unprotected sex, creampie, heavy use of 'my girl' and 'baby', nasty dirty talk mark doesn't shut the fuck up,
âIâve missed you.â Mark mouths at your skin, arms tight around your middle as he presses you against his chest, breathing in the scent of your body wash and perfume as he nuzzles his head into the crevice of your neck. You smile, lacing your fingers through his hair as you melt into his embrace and he hums at the soft tugs you give, suckling and nipping at the spot where your shoulder and neck meet.
âOw,â A giggle leaves your lips as Mark bites down a little too hard and your body angles away from him, only for him to whine and try and draw your back to him, muttering an apology against your neck as he tightens his hold on you. âWe canât stand here all day, Mark.â
Mark huffs as if what youâve stated is something so offensive it hurts his feelings, shoulders sagging as he reluctantly lets you go but his hand slips into your own, intertwining your fingers as he allows you to pull him to a more suitable place than your front door, dragging his socked covered feet across the floorboards as he takes in your home, a warmth spreading through his chest.
Mark missed being at your place, the sweet familiar smell of a candle that was previously burning filling his senses, the hum of the TV playing your favourite show in the background, the subtle misplaced ornaments and potted plants that youâve picked up to move or admire.
He takes a glance at your kitchen as he passes it, noticing a dish and a bowl soaking in soapy water and he smiles knowing youâve eaten already, wondering if it was something delicious and filling for you. He wants to ask what it couldâve been, but the question remains on the tip of his tongue as youâre pulling him towards your bedroom.
And thatâs when he feels most at home.Â
The bag that was once resting on his shoulders drops to the ground, mindlessly being kicked to the side as his body finally relaxes, the tiredness that heâs used to pushing at the back of his mind comes front and centre, sluggishly making his way towards the unmade bed and planting himself down on the edge.Â
The hand that's holding yours pulls you between his open legs and he rests his cheek on your stomach, embracing you as he once did a few moments prior and he sighs happily as your fingers resume playing with his hair.Â
âHow was work?â
âFine,â His tone is quiet and gentle. âJapan was fun. Yuta was our tour guide again and was taking us to all these places,â Mark moves his head a little to look up at you, resting his chin on your stomach inside. âI took some pictures for youâones I havenât sent you yet.âÂ
Youâre more than eager to see what pictures Mark wants to show you, gently pushing him up the bed for him to lay comfortably and he laughs, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone while his other arm curls around you, holding you close to his side and pressing his lips to the top of your head, finding comfort in the scent of your shampoo as he unlocks his phone, clicking the camera roll app and your eyes widen in excitement seeing all the recent photos you havenât seen.
Youâre in awe watching him scroll through the photos, the scenery and the colours of it all leaving you speechless, hanging onto every word as he tells you the story behind them all, some comical and others sweet and endearing.Â
âSeeing this one, like, reminded me of you.â He whispers against your head as he shows you a picture of a sunset, a blend of pinks and oranges making your heart flutter. âItâs prettyâcalming, made me feel at ease. It made me miss you even more than I already did, you know.â
âYou called me every night,â You tell him, laughing as he groans and rolls his eyes, throwing his phone to the side before gripping your hips, pulling your body on top of his and massaging your thighs with his fingers, kneading the skin as they settle on each of his sides.Â
âYou know itâs not the same,â Mark argues, tongue swiping across his bottom lip. âI love hearing your voice over the phone but, like, having you there with me physically means more to me. I get to hold you, I get to touch you⌠I get to kiss my girl.â
âIs that so?â
Mark hums with a short nod of his head before he cranes his neck up to meet your lips in a short but sweet kiss, squeezing your thighs once you reciprocate and he smiles against your lips as he feels your hands cradle his cheeks.
Then, you feel it. His hard cock pressing your inner thigh, twitching with each subtle movement of your hips as you rest your entire weight on him, causing him to grunt against your lips due to the pressure on his cock.Â
âAre you tired?â You pull away from his lips to ask him and you bite back the smile that threatens to spread across your cheeks as Mark follows, wanting your mouth back on his.Â
âA little,â He admits, squeezing your thighs. âBut I donât care. Just want you.â
Warmth fills your chest, âYou want me?â
âSo bad.âÂ
You donât have time to swoon over his words as heâs already leaning up and reconnecting your lips in a much deeper kiss, biting down on your bottom lip and sliding his tongue into your mouth to tangle with your own all while his hands slip around to grip your ass, pulling you ever closer so that your chest is pressed against his.Â
You kiss for a while, relishing in the way his lips feel on yours, familiar with the slow and unrushed pace he takes and your hands curl around the front of his shirt, signalling for him to take it off immediately and he smiles against your mouth, breaking the kiss for a moment to allow you to pull the material over his head.
Heâs giving you a toothy smile, eyes twinkling with adoration as he stares up at you and his fingers twitch over the hem of your shirt, ready to take it off and you happily give him permission to do so, raising your arms in the air and Mark tugs it off, throwing it carelessly to the side before his hands touch your skin, palms hot and clammy as he brings you in for another kiss, one that's more desperate and needy.
Markâs moaning shamelessly into your mouth when your hands dip beneath the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, first curling around his cock and giving him a few experimental pumps that has him almost drawing blood on your lip when he bites down a little too hard.
âEasy,â You hum with a giggle and Mark groans, craning his neck as he throws his head back against the pillows, tongue licking his bottom lip as your hand squeezes around his cock. He lifts his hips as you begin to rid him of the rest of his clothing and you awkwardly manoeuvre above him, laughing as you almost topple over if it wasnât for the hold he has on your hips.
âYou go easy,â Mark teases you this time and you roll your eyes. You drop your hands from him to finally peel off the rest of your own clothes and he watches you with hooded lids, resting one arm behind his head while the other wraps around his cock to jerk himself off as he takes in your naked body, something heâs seen plenty of times before but he views it as if it's his first time, absorbing himself in your curves, the swell of your breasts and your pretty pussy.
âLike what you see?â
Mark smiles, âAlways,â
You get a little shy at his compliment but continue to lean forwards to capture his lips in a kiss which he immediately reciprocates, his hand curls around the back of your neck to keep you still against his lips and he moans as your tongue slips inside his mouth to touch his own.
Heâs still touching himself between your bodies, lifts jerking upwards into his fist and gasping in your mouth when the tip grazes over your skin, the sensitivity sending goosebumps down his spine.
You pull away from his lips much to his dismay and he tries to pull you back in but stops when he sees you manoeuvring your way down his body, leaving a trail of kisses behind which makes him moan again, mouth falling slack as he feels your tongue lick a clean stripe down his navel.
You brush your fingers over his inner thighs, smiling at how his cock twitches against his stomach, stroking further and further up his skin before your fingers grip his cock, hearing the slight hiss he makes through his teeth and you smile, leaning in closer to wrap your lips around his tip.
âWait!â Mark suddenly yells out and you stop in surprise, bringing your gaze up from his cock to his face and he reaches his hand forward to cradle your check, his thumb caressing your skin. He looks like heâs in pain, but he explains, âIâll cum too quickly if you suck my cock, like, seriously, I will cum the second I feel your tongue on me again.â
That makes you even more eager to shove his cock down your throat and you tighten your fingers around the base, causing him to throw his head back with a gasp, âI donât mind.â
âBut I do,â Mark weakly pushes your hand away and his cock slaps back against his stomach, his hips jerking upwards at the sudden contact. âFuckâbaby Iâve been waiting for this for so long. I want to cum fucking youâplease, Iââ He winces as his hand comes down to cup his balls, almost as if heâs trying to stop himself from cumming right there and there from his words. âI want to fuck you.â
You would awe at the sight if it wasnât for the way heâs looking at you right now, so desperate and needy to be inside of you and youâre more than welcome to give him exactly what he wants, briefly nodding your head for confirmation and his shoulders drop with a relieved sigh.
Mark gently pushes you down on the bed to crawl above you, kneeling between your parted thighs and he almost drools at the sight of your pussy, glistening and ready for him to fuck. Heâs quick to lean over to open the drawers of your nightstand, digging his hand inside to search around for the box of condoms he knows you have for him.
He pulls out the box and he leans back on his ankles as he dips his hand inside, and you wait patiently for him to retrieve it and roll it onto his cock, but the way his body freezes and face drops you know something is wrong and you grow concerned, leaning up on your elbows.
âMark?â
âNo, no, no,â Mark mumbles repeatedly under his breath as he turns the box upside down and shakes aggressively, praying that a condom will magically appear out of thin air and lay across the palm of his hand but it remains empty. âJesus Christ, youâve got to be kidding me.â
You gape at him in shock, âThereâs no condoms left?â
âThereâs no condoms left,â He repeats, throwing the empty box down on the bed and he runs his hand over his face in annoyance, tears of frustration prickling at his eyes. You watch as he brows pull together, how his jaw clenches and nostrils flare in anger. It was a sight youâre definitely not used to seeing, but itâs something that has your thighs clenching for some friction below.Â
âHey, itâs okay,â You try to reassure him as his cheeks get a little red and you reach up to stroke his shoulders. âWe mustâve used the last one before you left to go to Japan without knowing.â
âI shouldâve been prepared, you know, I shouldâve bought a pack before coming hereâI shouldnât have relied on you to have the condoms but, fuck, I was just so exciting to see my girl that I didnât even think aboutââ
âBaby, itâs okay.â You try to cut off his rambling by reassuring him again but it's no use.
ââAnd now we have nothing and Iâm justââ His hands wave over his hard cock comically and you hold back a snort, watching how his fingers run through his hair with a sigh. âOkay, I should just, like, make you cum on my tongue and then Iâm going to go jerk off in theââ
âNo!â You shout this time, startling Mark who stares at you with wide eyes and you immediately apologise, âIâm sorry. Iâm sorry, baby. But you donât need to do that, itâs okay.â
âThen what are we going to do?â He questions with a whiny tone that has your head reeling and pussy begging to be fucked. The way heâs staring at you so desperately and in pain is enough for you to come up with an idea.
âHow about we just do it raw this time?â
Mark blinks, âRaw? Like, without a condom?â
âYes.â
âBabyâŚâ Mark sighs softly as he rubs at your thighs, âYou know we canât do that. We canât risk anything, you know, and even though Iâm certain Iâm going to spend the rest of my life with my girl and start a family⌠we really canât risk anything. Itâs too soon and weâre both not ready for that either.â
You frown, âI know that. But nothing will happen, I promise. Iâm on the pill.â
âWhat?â
âIâve been on the pill for a few months,â You tell him nonchalantly and he looks at you as if you kept such a big secret away from him. âRemember that night when the condom broke and we panicked?â Mark nods his head quickly, âI went on the pill the day after that. I didnât want us to have another scare or anything.â
âYouâve been on the pill for five months?â Mark asks you and you hum, confirming its true and he gapes in shock, dropping his gaze down to your pussy in disbelief. âSo we couldâve done this five months ago?â
You struggle to hold back a laugh this time, the sound stifled by your lips. âYes.â
âSo, I can justâŚâ Mark trails off as he shuffles forward, the tip of his cock brushing over your folds and you gasp as he flicks over your clit, thighs clamping around his hips. âI can just slide right in, feel you, fill you up.â Heâs mumbling now, some words incoherent while others are clear as day, his lewdness making your face hot as his cock nudges your opening, almost teasing you by not fucking you immediately and you bite back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.
back the urge to tell him to hurry it up.
You suck in a deep breath as Mark finally pushes into you and his eyes grow wide, mouth slack as he feels the warmth of your walls fit snugly around his cock. Heâs frozen above you, cock pulsing as he feels you bare for the first time and his eyes flick to yours, and his gaze suddenly darkens, his fingers pressing against the meat of your waist.Â
You go to call out his name, to ask him if heâs alright but a surprised yelp flees past your lips as his hips snap forwards, burying himself deep inside of your pussy and your arms fling around his shoulders, gripping him tightly as he pants above you.
âFeel so fucking good, baby,â Mark grunts under his breath, fucking himself into you deeper and you wail, thighs clamping around his waist. âFeels so tight. All for me, yeah? Just for me. So fucking good. My pretty girl and her perfect pussy.â
âMark.â You try to speak, stuttering over your words with each thrust, the bed creaking beneath your bodies, headboard hitting against the wall but you could care less about the noise, too surprised to see the sudden change in your boyfriend.Â
His tone and his words are enough to have you gaping at him, broken moans ripping through your throat at how nasty he sounds, how he uncontrollably mutters how good your cunt feels wrapped around his cock and how wet you are for him.Â
Youâre not used to this. Youâre used to the sweet talk, the light feathery kisses he leaves on your skin, words of sweet praises and gentle whispers of âi love yousâ.Â
Youâre not complaining though. Never.Â
Seeing Mark switch up just from fucking you raw for the first time has your mind spinning and electricity buzzing down your spine, fingernails digging further into his shoulder blades and clamping around him tightly, cursing him to curse.
âFuck, thatâs it. Thatâs it, baby. Tight little cunt squeezing me in so good,â Mark whispers in your ear, almost sounding like heâs whining. âMy girl. My fucking girl.â
âPlease,â You beg, even though you have no idea what youâre begging for. âPlease, please, please.â
âGonna fill you up, fuck you full of my cum,â Mark slurs his words, his pace quickening as his cock drills into you, his hands gripping your waist tighter when he hears you moan prettily for him. âYou want that? Hm? Want me to fill you up? Fuck this cunt full?â
âYes,â You pant heavily, tightening your legs around his hips, desperate for him to cum, to feel him deep inside. âPlease.â
âSounds so pretty when my baby begs for me,â Mark hums as he leans in to kiss your lips but he pulls away much too quickly for your liking, not allowing you to enjoy it. But you gasp when you feel his hand slide between your bodies, thumb rubbing your clit. âGonna cum for me like Iâm gonna cum for you, yeah? Want to see my girl cum for me before I fuck her pussy full.â
Youâre already letting yourself go just from his words alone, your orgasm crashing over your like an aggressive wave and you body seizes up, almost sobbing from sensitivity as he fucks you through it, thumbing at your clit without any signs of stopping.
Your pussy contracts around his cock, sucking him in deeper, hugging around him tightly which causing his hips to stutter their movements, a grunt slipping past his lips before he leans back, hands sliding down your waist to grip your thighs, keeping you locked against him as he watches you squeeze around his cock, desperate to be filled.
âGood girl. Keep doing that for me. Feels so good, baby.â Markâs moaning under his breath, airy moans turning into whines as he feels your walls tighten around him, too overwhelmed by the feeling that he stills, a throating groan leaving his lips as he cums, filling you up just as planned.
Markâs breathing heavily, mesmerised with the way heâs emptying himself inside you, watching his cock twitch with his spurt of cum that paints your walls. He doesnât pull away until heâs certain thereâs nothing left to give, wincing out of sensitivity as he slowly leans back to pull out of you, his spent cock bobbing against his thigh.
âWhat was that?â You breathe out, leaning up on your elbows as you look at him. âWhere did that come from?â
âI donât know,â Mark mumbles, cheeks blossoming a bright red as he refuses to meet your gaze, that shy and sweet persona falling back into place. But he canât seem to tear his eyes away from your pussy, mouth open wide as his fingers delicately stroke over your puffy folds. âWas⌠was I too much?â
âNo,â You quickly shake your head, reassuring him. âI liked it.â
âYeah?â Mark hums, finally meeting your gaze and you smile at him, nodding your head this time and he sheepishly grins back, staring down at his fingers that circle around your entrance that leaks with his cum and he makes the sudden decision to push it back in, causing you to gasp and whine softly. âSorry⌠I donât want anything to go to waste.â
You laugh lightly at his words, âGo to waste?â
âMhm,â Mark nods, retracting his fingers and staring at the cum that covers his digits, the dark expression taking over once again as he looks right at you, âIâm never wearing a condom again, you know that right, baby?â
Šđ đĽđđđŚ
5K notes
¡
View notes
hello perhaps morning after sex with mingyu + wonwoo ?? like you wake up in bed with both of them after a drunken threesome and go again⌠maybe one of the boys wakes up first and you start hooking up with him right there only for the other to wake up and get pouty before joining in
Pairing: (Mingyu x afab!reader x Wonwoo)
Genre:Â smut
Word count:Â 1.8k
tags: Tags: poly, established friendship, brief enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, spanking, double penetration, degradation, brief hole slapping?, mean wonwoo, sweet mingyu
Summary: Mingyu being the common denominator for the strained acquaintanceship of both you and Wonwoo, he's determined to make this friendship work.
author note: can yall believe this is my first minwon fic, i mean theres a million ones out there that arent mine, but its interesting it took this long. thank you kaili my love for the request, i hope you like it
Mingyu and Wonwoo were and have been inseparable, that is until you came into the picture. You met Mingyu first and clicked immediately with him, taking him everywhere you went like schoolmates. You were self-claiming that he was your best friend, despite how many people telling you heâd be a better boyfriend (he is insanely hot), and that Wonwoo was second best to you.
Wonwoo didnât like that about you. You just popped out of nowhere with your pretty face and can-do attitude, attaching yourself to Mingyuâs hip like a clingy fanny pack. He was there first and clearly had a stronger connection with Mingyu and he wasnât going to let some ânobodyâ steal his friend away from him, no matter how cute that smile was or how nice you smelled.
Mingyu being the âempathâ he is, starting to use the word unironically at this point, he could sense the hostility between the two and how things never seemed to align when you were together. It was like a dark cloud peering over everyone when they were in the same room. It made social gatherings suffocating at times and that was unfortunate since he enjoyed both their companies equally, so he set off a plan in motion.
The next gathering would just be the three of them, close and intimate. Drinks would be involved, maybe some food, have it all set up in his apartment, and before you know it, theyâd all be besties. This was going to go great.
âMmh, WonwooâŚâ
Mingyu realized things went too well when he found out what he was waking up to the following morning. His eyes couldnât process it initially, but through his strained eyes he can make out you grinding your wet entrance up against his best friendâs raging boner, moaning obscenities that he hardly ever imagined coming out of your lips.
Wonwooâs deep chuckles were as dark as chocolate, running his hands all over your body in delight, looking up in amazement to see how needy you already were. âSo whiny, youâre so annoying. You want me that bad?â
You nod back at him incessantly, tweaking your stuff buds between your fingers, âIâŚwantâŚyou in meâŚâ
A corner of his lips quirks up, he forces your hips to ride his torso harder, âYeah? You want my cock inside you?â
Your lips contort anxiously, dragging your hands over his toned, muscular build, âMm, yes, I want itâŚâ
âIâm gonna need to hear you beg for it. Beg for me, whore,â He taps his length on your stomach, having you mewl over him desperately.
Your core throb, practically hearing the echo from its vacancy, screaming at you to be filled, âWonwoo pleaseâŚâ
He arches a brow, âPlease what? Be specific.â
Youâre clenching over nothing, whining in his ear as you leaned towards him, âPlease put your cock in meâŚI need youâŚâ
Mingyu was half asleep when this was all occurring. Tossing and turning, he was wondering what was happening in the background, and why the hell was he so tired for. He soon notices the instability of the bed slightly rocking in its spot, the pure stench of sex that coated the inside of his nostrils, and then your breathy moan, rhythmically dancing in the air. The images then all rush back to him, blood flowing to his lower half, finding enough for his shaft to stand on, and the feeling of neglect wash over him.
âSeriously? You guys couldnât wait?â
You immediately collect the sounds of Mingyu's pretty whines and turn your head to his side of the bed. âBaby, youâreâahâup.â
âHey Gyu.â Wonwoo nods at the younger man.
Mingyu juts out his bottom lip childishly, lightly throwing a pillow back at his friends, and sees it make no effect on the situation. He shifts from the bed, the blanket falling from his body and exposing stiff length, rubbing his eyes in slight frustration. âI canât believe you two. Without me.â
Your eyes latch on his size, pulling him by his shaft, giggling. âItâs not too late for you to join in.â
âWell, now I gotta catch up,â his hand catches the back of your head and claims your lips.
Your hips moved more slowly this time, focusing on savoring the taste of his lips while entertaining, but the man underneath you wasnât so patient. Distracted with Mingyu, Wonwoo grips your hips and ruts you faster, bouncing you in his lap. As the sounds of skin slapping together in perfect harmony, you moan in soft, staccato breaths in Mingyu's mouth, allowing your lips to part and have his tongue explore. His hands start playing a part when they fell to your chest, teasing your nipples lightly.
With the endearing way you feel apart to his touch, he canât help but pull away from the kiss to just have them in his mouth, sucking your tender skin and mouthing flesh around it. âYouâre so fucking beautiful...â
His eyes gaze back at you like he was in heat, his hips, and cock twitching to be inside you, your eyes telling him the same. He embraces you as you ride Wonwoo, drawing circles with his tongue, clenching your flesh in his hands, drunk on your pretty voice calling out to him. He could do this all day if he could, but there was one thing he wanted to do a smidge more.
âCome on, Gyu, you know you want to,â Wonwoo takes his hand to your ass cheeks, have you whimper upon impact.
Mingyu knew all too well what his best friend meant and pushed you down to reunite your lips with Wonwooâs in a frenzy. Mingyu made himself comfortable behind you, legs bordering Wonwoo and parallel to yours. He runs a slick finger over your moisture, and squeezes it between the older manâs cock and your walls, testing your limits.
âSo fucking tightâŚhas Wonwoo treating you well?â
You hardly mumble a yes as Wonwoo thrusts deep inside you, feeling the tension up your body and ramming repeatedly inside you, his hands clapping over your ass every few seconds or so.Â
âWeâre gonna stretch you nice and wide for us okay?â Mingyu warns with a playful tinge.
You moan against Wonwooâs lips, feeling the heat of his cocky chuckle on your neck. âI think that means yes, Gyu.â
Mingyu held your hips in place, rubbing the tip at the edge of your entry before gradually pushing his length in. With blown-out eyes, you try to quickly adjust to the strain of two cocks plunged inside you, feeling their slick griths rub against each other and fill up your vacancy past its limit, âOh, fuckâŚâ
It's when Mingyu finds his place that you realize it's only begun. Your hips stationary and nails digging into a pillow, they moved on polar pacing, but fucking you with a similar depth. The euphoria of fullness had overcome you and you try backtracking to the moment when you felt a sensation similar, but none comes in mind. You felt used in the most heavenly way possible.
âSoâŚtightâŚFuck, you feel goodâŚâ Wonwoo growls out between his grunts, âStupid slut, perfect fucking body, perfect fucking hole, youâre just perfect everything, arenât you?â
âSo good for usâŚyouâre taking us so good, baby.â Mingyu agrees.
Your eyes keep rolling back in your skull, taking deep breaths, restraining your own orgasm, and at some point the sweat of you three fuse together, becoming one living and breathing system, hot to the touch and unstoppable. Wonwoo eventually encourages you to sit up, pressing your back against Mingyuâs chest, having the image of you being spoiled giving him a sense of purpose and bliss.
âThatâs a pretty picture,â he comments, watching as Mingyu grabs your chest again, rolling your nipples and abusing them to his liking.
âIâm c-c-cummingâŚâ you stutter.
Mingyu smugly grins against your skin. âBut weâve only started, baby.â
âI-I know IâmâŚtryâfuckâshit, Mingyu!â You react to the love tap he makes to your hole, his laughter flooding your ears.
Wonwoo laughs along with him, his nails running over your chest and stomach. âListen to him, slut. Donât make us have to make you waitâŚâ
âY-yes, sirâŚâ
Wonwoo was pleased to see your chest heave up and down breathlessly, sweat beading down your body, and the helplessness on your face while Mingyu took advantage. The power running through his veins was immaculate; he made you grind faster, Mingyu pound you harder, all of his present senses were being fulfilled to their maximum. Despite being underneath you, Wonwoo clearly had the upper hand.Â
There was a point you couldnât help yourself anyway, your arousal seeps out of you like oozing honey, dripping the side of your legs and down Wonwooâs lap, clutching the man behind you desperately for reassurance. âS-shitâŚIâm sorry.â
âYou better be. Mingyu, get on top of them.â
Mingyu follows orders well, your body flat on the mattress in mere seconds with him toppled over you, his smile staring back at you, âHey, there.â
You get no chance to greet him back as he smothers you with his lips, his full length pushing back in you, and your body aches from the sensitivity. Wonwoo is just a step behind, pulling your legs just slightly more in his direction, he steps off the bed. He plants his feet on the ground and fills up your core to its brim, not caring about the mess you make, only thinking of the bigger mess he plans to make.
âS-so fullâŚâ
âYou shouldâve listened to Wonwoo, baby.â Mingyu strokes the side of your head, pressing his lips against your skin and sucking them until he sees the pigment rise to the surface.Â
The room could hardly contain any of the sounds happening, no doubt interrupting a fourth partyâs day, and none of you had a care in the world. You were a sweating mess beneath the both of them, used up like their personal toy, and being bruised left and right, all worth it to meet another climax, this time both men joining you.
Mingyu was still kissing your flushed skin when it was happening and Wonwoo, having already poured thick ribbons of his nectar inside you, was pushing it back inside of you, a trail of his and Mingyuâs essence seeping out of you into the sheets. Doing it once, twice, and three times before, youâd do it again and again until your hunger presents itself.
Although both men knew how to make you full, they couldnât distract or fulfill you from the absence of food. Knowing how exhausted youâve become, Mingyu laid your body to rest, cleaning out any and all the remnants from your body, while Wonwoo called ahead for some breakfast.
âAnything specific you both want?â
Mingyu cuddles up next to you when heâs finished, throwing a blanket over bare bodies, âYeah maybe a breakfast sandwich? How about you, baby?â
âThat sounds perfect,â you grin, kissing the top of his nose.
Wonwoo smiles to himself, reciting it over the phone before joining them back in bed. He holds you from behind nuzzling to the crook of your neck, and you laugh, wondering why he ever bothered you in the first place. It felt complete with you three together, like a breakfast sandwich.
2K notes
¡
View notes