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https-yeonjun · 4 months

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awkward (c.yj)

summary. you let your best friend see your body, and now it's awkward

wc. 5251

genre. angst

tags. minors DNI!! yeonjun x fem!reader, college!au, best friends to lovers to ???, mentions of sex and alcohol, suggestive,

a/n. repost; if you're from my other account, you would know this is just a compilation of all three parts of awkward, though i edited it again.

more of my work

of all the friends you have at college, you’ve known yeonjun the longest. your mothers grew up together and were those best friends that dreamed of raising their kids together. you saw each other through snotty noses and scraped knees in elementary school and through first heartbreaks and senior prom dates. he was even the one who convinced your parents to let you move from your small suburban town to the big city for college.

tonight, you’re sitting on the couch in one of his friend’s apartment, nursing another red solo cup, watching him suck the face off of some random girl.

you feel a pit in your stomach.

anyone would think that because you had known each other for so long, seen each other at your absolute worst, there would be no way your relationship would ever cross that platonic-romantic line. but as you watched yeonjun become the confident man that he was today, the image of that bratty little kid who always tried to get you into trouble faded away, and you just couldn’t help but develop these weird feelings about your best friend.

there have been many times where you have actually brought up the idea of you guys getting together. jokingly, of course. because lord knows that you would never seriously tell him how much you wanted his soft lips against yours. especially not after he laughs whenever you bring it up.

so now, you just watch him, as he leaves you in a corner at the house parties he drags you along to, flight with other people.

you chug the remainder of the drink in your hand, wincing at the warm taste. you hate the taste of beer but it’s the only thing they have at these stupid parties. you get up a little too fast, and the wind almost knocks you back down. you didn't think you were that drunk, but then again this was your third drink in the last hour.

you walk over to the kitchen and tap the black haired boy on the shoulder. he moans against her lips, not even acknowledging the fact that you were right next to him. you feel the blood rush up to your cheeks as you tap him again. this time, the girl pulls away from him. “can i help you?” she asks.

you don’t even look at her, just at your best friend, who looked annoyed at the fact that you just interrupted him. his arm was still wrapped around her waist.

“jun, i want to go home.” he looked between the two of you, hesitant in his response.

“right now?”

“yeah, i’m kind of tired.” you looked at the rest of the party. “i don’t really want to be here right now.”

“do you want me to call you a car?” he ran his fingers through his hair. are you really trying to cockblock him right now?

“i think i’m going to throw up.” you lied.

“fuck,” he mumbled, “seriously?” you slowly nodded in response. “okay, shit,” he turned to the girl, his arm still around her waist. “i’ve gotta go.”

“you’re seriously leaving me right now?”

“i need to take her home.” his voice sounded sad. “but, uh… i’ll see you around?” it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself that he would ever speak to this girl again. she pushed him away from her and walked out of the kitchen.

his arm supports your back as he walks you to your apartment. his friend’s place was already small, but the fact that it was packed like a can of sardines made you feel a little claustrophobic. the night air definitely sobered you up. but you still feel a little woozy as you make your way into your apartment. yeonjun carefully walks you over to your room and lays you on the bed.

“do you want to stay the night?” you ask him in a small voice.

“no,” he is already halfway to the bedroom door now. “i have to work in the morning.”

“i’m sorry.”

“for what?” he walks back to your bed.

“for making you leave early.”

“it’s all good. you should go to bed though.”

“can you please stay?” you ask again, a little more desperately this time.

“i’ll see you later, y/n.” he bends down to kiss your forehead. “good night.”

it was the last day of finals and you and yeonjun were celebrating together in his apartment. “i can’t believe we’re finally done. this semester was rough.” he was double majoring in music business and dance and he had a lot of final projects to complete in those last few weeks of school and this was the first time you had seen each other since last month. “how should we celebrate?” he asks you with a smile on his face. you missed him.

“i think,” you begin, an evil grin appearing on your face. “we should play truth or truth.”

“that’s not a real game.” he interjects.

“yes, it is. and we are going to play it, but every time you do a truth, you have to take a shot of this.” you pull out a bottle of fireball from your bag.

“that sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

“true.” you shrug. “but c’mon. it will be fun.”

and he agrees.

you are both three rounds into the game now and your throat is already starting to burn. the questions started out easy and light but now your head is starting to feel a little fuzzy and the air is starting to get a little tense. you sit cross-legged on the couch opposite yeonjun, the bottle of fireball between your two bodies. maybe it was the way he was looking at you or the fact that you had been drinking knowing that the last meal you ate was a nutella sandwich before your last exam five hours ago. whatever it was, it was making your stomach do flips.

“it’s your turn now.” you giggle.

“ok… when was the last time you made out with anyone?” he asks you.

fuck. why did he have to ask you that? you were a little embarrassed that it had been a minute since you had been remotely intimate with anyone. “i don’t know…” your voice trails off sheepishly, you try to hide your face with one of the cushions on the couch.

“what do you mean “you don’t know?”” he is surprised. he always had friends asking him to set them up with you. “what about that guy from that party we went to?”

“what guy at what party?”

“the one guy who you were talking to all night. i thought you guys hooked up.”

“well, we didn’t.” you pour your shot and immediately drink it. “can we move on? please?”

“well, would you make out with me?”

“it’s my turn to ask the question, yeonjun.” you feel the blood rush up to your face.

“okay, but would you?” he moves the bottle to the coffee table, and inches closer to you. he was right; this game was a recipe for disaster.

“i can’t believe you had sex with yeonjun.”

“yell it out for the whole world to know.” it is a week later and you are having lunch with one of your friends. you told her what happened with yeonjun and she cheered, gleefully, saying that she was happy it finally happened. it seemed like all your other friends had an ongoing bet about your relationship with your best friend, and she just made twenty dollars.

“so are you guys finally together now?” she leans forward, her palms supporting her chin, invested in your love life.

“god, no.” you sigh. “i haven’t talked to him since then. i actually left when he went to the bathroom and he’s been texting me but i don’t know what to say.”

“you left when he was in the bathroom?” she exclaims, causing you to groan.

“i made things so awkward now. i don’t even know what to do.”

“so you’re ghosting him? and i thought he was the fuckboy.”

“i’m not ghosting him. i just don’t know what to say to him.”

“so you’re ignoring his text. y/n, that is literally the textbook definition of ghosting.”

“what do you want me to say to him? “i’m sorry i’ve been ignoring you after i snuck out of your place after we fucked?” and through text? i sound like such a fucking asshole.” a woman passing with her child glares at you. you groan again.

“you kind of are an asshole, y/n.” her phone vibrates on the table and she looks at it, a smile forming on her face. “looks like you don’t have to say that through text?”

“what?”

“yeonjun is throwing a party to mark the end of the school year. his friend just invited me and you’re my plus one.”

“he didn’t tell me about that.”

“well, how do you expect him to tell you that when you’re ghosting him?”

“i’m not ghosting him!” you try to defend yourself. “and i don’t think i’m going to go. what if he doesn’t want to see me?”

“if he didn’t want to see you, i would not have been invited. and besides, i don’t want to go by myself.”

with one final groan, you put your head against the cold diner table.

you and your friend arrive at the party and thank goodness, you hadn’t seen yeonjun yet. she promised that she would stay by your side all night and you’re very grateful that so far she has kept her promise. the two of you walk into the kitchen.

you’re making small talk with some mutual friends when someone comes in and asks if you know where yeonjun is. right then, he comes into the kitchen laughing with his friend. his smile drops when he sees you. you wave at him, with a small smile. he turns the other way to answer the person who asked if he wants to play beer pong.

“well, that was embarrassing.” you say to your friend, trying to push your tears back.

“y/n we can leave if you want to.” she tells you, rubbing my arm.

“no it’s fine. i’m fine. besides, we just got here and you promised me we would have fun.”

“okay, but if you want to leave, let me know.”

you couldn’t even try to have fun that evening because you spent the entire party trying to avoid yeonjun. when he was in the living room, you were in the kitchen. when he was in the kitchen, you were on the balcony. when you were sure he was on the balcony, you escaped to the bathroom.

this is so ridiculous. you think, staring at your face in the mirror. you sit on the toilet scrolling through your phone until you hear faint voices outside the door.

“did you know y/n was going to be here?” you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“no, but she’s always at these things. aren’t you guys best friends?”

“uh… yeah, i mean.” you can hear him groan. “something happened and she ghosted me and now she’s at my fucking party.”

why does everyone think i ghosted him?

“what is “something”?”

“if i tell you this, you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“damn, did you guys fuck or something?” there is a pregnant pause on the other end of this conversation. “fuck!”

“and she fucking ghosts me. complete fucking radio silence for a whole fucking week and then she shows up at my place again.”

“maybe she’s just scared. i mean, your relationship changed overnight.”

“then send an emoji or something. don’t just ghost your best friend.” he stops for a second, sighing. “and, our relationship wasn’t supposed to change. we know each other. we don’t judge each other.”

“do you regret it?”

“regret having sex with y/n? no. i just wish we were still friends now.”

me too.

you clear your throat and take a look in the mirror. he’s still outside the door but it is starting to dawn on you that camping out in his bathroom all night is neither sustainable nor serious. also, why are you trying to avoid him? it’s better to talk it out once and for all than have him hate you forever. you walk out of the bathroom and see him standing there with his friend. when they hear the door click, they both turn to look at you and his friend makes a face at him. yeonjun grimaces back and they begin walking back to the living room to join the rest of the party.

fuck, okay maybe that’s why you were avoiding him?

your heart is racing now and something in the back of your mind is telling you to just walk back into the bathroom and save yourself from further embarrassment that evening. but then you remember that this is your best friend. he couldn’t really be that mad at you, could he?

“hey, yeonjun.” you call after him and he turns around with a groan. “can we talk, please?” his friend pats his back in encouragement and yeonjun walks towards you.

“now you want to talk to me?” he spits at you.

you feel a chill down your spine at his tone. only he could make you feel so small with such a simple comment. “i was never ignoring you.” you reply. your voice is quieter and more strained than you wanted it to be. you clear your throat and repeat yourself.

he laughs at your attempt to gain confidence. “really, because i was this close to sending a carrier pigeon to your house to get you to talk to me.”

“i’ve just been busy.”

“busy?” he raises his eyebrows in disbelief, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

“yeah, i was busy. i have a life, you know?” you cringe internally at how defensive you sounded. why are you getting so riled up?

“you don’t have to try and convince me. i believe you.” you are standing against the bathroom door and he is still at the end of the hallway. silence fills the gap between the two of you, until he clears his throat and begins to speak again. “so, what did you want to talk about?”

“seriously?” you scoff. “there’s a massive elephant in the room, jun.”

“i mean, what exactly do you want to say y/n?” he looks behind him to the rest of the party. you feel like you were wasting his time.

“i wanted to say i’m sorry for leaving, but–” you begin but you couldn’t get far because he chuckles. “is something funny?” you ask.

“you know when people apologize, like give a sincere apology, there are usually no buts.”

you run your hands through your hair in frustration. you’re trying to clear the air and he’s interrupting you. seriously? “i am apologizing, but–”

“you’re doing it again.” he smirk. he always did enjoy getting you flustered.

“it was awkward.” you blurt out, not giving him a chance to interrupt you again.

“not to me,” he says under his breath, quiet enough for you to almost miss it. but you don’t.

“c’mon jun, we’re friends.” you reply, plainly.

“you and i both know that we aren’t just friends.” he moves closer to you and your breath hitches in your throat.

“yes, we are,” your voice cracks. “ you’re my best friend.” you’re lying through your teeth, trying harder to convince yourself that your feelings for him were made up and he most definitely did not reciprocate them.

“so, why did you leave?” he asks, arms crossed, completely unmoved by the fact that you were about to burst into tears.

“because,” you push back your tears. “because, we’re friends and friends don’t fuck. but we did and i felt so awkward. i made it awkward.” you’d humiliated yourself in front of him too many times in the past week and you were determined to not cry in front of him and have him pity you.

“now what?” he asks, his arms folded in front of his chest.

“what?” you look up at his face, really examining his eyes. the eyes that looked at you fondly and made your stomach do flips were gone.

“you left my house right after we had sex and then you ignored me for a week. you show up to my party uninvited with your “apology” so what now? what do you want from me?” he never raises his voice at you, but he can still manage to make you feel stupid and small.

“i want us to go back to normal.”

“you want us to go back to normal?” he chuckles, not so much in a mean way but more in a confused way. like you just told him that the sky is actually green and grass is blue.

“is that so much to ask for?”

“y/n, you left.”

“but i’m here now.” your voice cracks again.

“and that’s supposed to mean something.”

“yes, yeonjun. it means that i’m here and i’m trying. i want us to be friends again, okay?” you plead. “i’m sorry for leaving and i’m sorry for ghosting you after but i’m here now. i’m trying.”

he sighs and massages his forehead before looking at you. he’s never had a great poker face, but right now his face is blank and you can’t read him at all. “i don’t think we can be friends anymore. not the way we used to.”

“we can try, please.”

“no, we can’t. you were right. it’s awkward now. you made it awkward now.” he starts leaving but turns around. “you shouldn’t have come.” and with that he disappears back into the party.

you sit on the floor for a minute before you feel your phone vibrate in your back pocket.

where did you go????

you look at the time. it had been almost thirty minutes since you told your friend that you needed to go to the bathroom.

im by the bathroom can we leave now

you took a week to mourn the end of your longest friendship and then you spent the rest of the summer pretending that you had accepted it and distracted yourself with work. you didn’t see a lot of people over break because many of your friends were actually yeonjun’s friends and he got them in the quasi custody battle. now you weren’t getting invites to all the parties you once did, you had to find a distraction in being a straight-a student.

you’re working on a homework assignment when your parents call, asking what your plans for the holidays are.

“i’ve just been really busy, mom.” you tell her when she asks why they haven’t seen you in months. the truth is, you knew yeonjun was going home for summer break and as much as you tried to convince yourself that you were completely over everything that happened between the two of you, you really weren’t. and the last thing you wanted to do was see him everyday for two months.

“you always say that honey.” you roll your eyes at your mom’s passive aggressive comment. “but we will see you in a few weeks, right?”

“you will?” you rack your brain to see if you forgot whether or not you invited your parents to come visit you at your university or something.

“it’s winter break honey.” you had been stuck in a routine of going to work, going to class, and doing your homework in your room. you had completely forgotten that the semester was coming to an end and you couldn’t avoid going home anymore.

“oh, right.” you reply before your mom proceeds to drone on about the annual dinner your family has with your neighbors, which you absentmindedly listen to. “i don’t think i will be able to make that.”

“what? why not? we do it every year!”

she gives you half a second to come up with an excuse. you couldn’t just outright tell her that you didn’t want to see yeonjun and that’s why you haven’t come home since last winter and why you did not want to come home. because that would just be absurd. “i probably have to work on christmas eve. i’m not sure i can make it back home.” not very effective but you’re internally praying to the universe that she believes you and doesn’t push it any further.

but, alas, the universe has not been on your side lately.

“it’s the holidays! i’m sure you can call out.”

“mom, i still have a lot of work to do for school so i still might not make it even if i can get out of work.”

“honey, you know we have this christmas eve dinner every year. and your dad and i have already started planning this year. you can’t say you just can’t make it.”

you sigh. she’s so annoying when she’s trying to persuade you. “i know mom but it’s just that i hate being the youngest person at these things. it’s so boring for me.”

“that won’t be a problem this year. you won’t be the youngest because a new family moved in over the summer, i think in june. they have kids around your age.” she perks up. “and yeonjun is going to be there too.”

“oh, right.” as if you could forget about that.

“we were wondering why you didn’t come home because he was home for a month over the summer.” your mom broke you away from your train of thought.

“i had to work mom.” you respond, dryly. since you told her that you weren’t coming home at the end of last summer. she’s been bringing it up everytime she talks to you. “and i still have to work so i’ll let you know if i can come home for the dinner.”

“oh, you’re coming home.”

“i’ll see, mom.” you’re trying to quickly get off the phone. “i have a lot of homework to catch up on so i’ll call you later. love you! bye!” you hang up.

you know she’s right and you are going to go home.

from being your mother’s daughter you have learnt two fundamental truths: the salad fork goes on the outside of a plate setting and you need to learn how to lie. you have been at your childhood home since nine in the morning, trailing behind your mom as she prepares for the annual dinner. she made you stay with her the entire day, save for the two hours she allowed you to get ready before the guests arrived. even afterwards, she stayed by your side, forcing you to mingle with guests.

right now, you are in the kitchen with your mom as she gives you a quick rundown on what had been going on in the neighborhood since the last time you were there. other than your family and yeonjun’s, there was a new family at this dinner. according to your mom, they had moved in over the summer and they had a daughter your age who was going to the local university in your town. “it would be nice to have another friend in the neighborhood.” she says, prompting you to talk to her.

rolling your eyes at your mom, you move over to where the girl was with her little brother in the living room. before you could get to her, the front door opens and yeonjun and his mother step into the house. your mom rushes to greet her old friend, as if they didn’t see each other just the other day. you greet her too before escaping to the bathroom under the guise of freshening up before dinner actually begins. you had made plans to avoid yeonjun by any means necessary.

by the time you return downstairs and dinner actually starts, you realize once again that fate (or your mom) had other plans for you. when you get to the table, you see that the only empty seat at the table was between yeonjun and the girl your mother so desperately wanted you to be friends with.

this is just perfect.

you try not to make eye contact with him as you engage in small talk with the girl beside you. you find out that she’s a freshman at the local university and she’s majoring in english literature. you tell her about your major and your classes.

“what about you?” she speaks over you, to ask yeonjun. “do you also go to the same school?”

you turn to face him for the first time that evening. “yeah, i do.” he answers, coolly.

“are the two of you studying the same thing?”

“no.” you answer quickly, trying to keep him out of this conversation.

“i can speak for myself.” his tone shifts when he talks to you. “i’m doing a double major in music business and dance,” he replies to her.

“whatever,” you scoff.

“is there a problem, y/n?” he asks you, snarkily. the girl beside you turned away to play with the food on her plate. it seemed to her that she might have pulled a little too hard on a sensitive trigger.

“oh, you’re talking to me now?” you parrot the words he said to you that night outside his bathroom. the last time you saw him.

“i never said that i wasn’t taking you.”

“then what exactly did you say?” even though the two of you are not having the loudest conversation at the table, you are sure that the other people at the table can feel the tension rising.

“i said that i didn’t know if we could be friends the same as before.”

“so stop trying to act like everything is fine.” you say a little too loudly. the other conversations at the table stop.

“i’m not–” yeonjun begins but someone clears their throat and you both look up to see your mothers glaring at the two of you.

“maybe you two should have this conversation on your own time?” his mother suggests. you feel him shrink in his seat beside you, quietly apologizing.

after dinner, your mom drags you into your childhood bedroom. your room was adorned with discount furniture, an old bookcase you took from your grandparent’s house in high school, and lots of fairy lights.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you but your behavior tonight is completely unacceptable.” your mother scolds you. you are sitting on the edge of the bed and she is standing across from you with her hands on her hips.

“my behavior?” you respond.

“you’re being rude to your friend and the rest of my guests, arguing at the dinner table, embarrassing yourself. what is wrong with you?”

“i wasn’t arguing with anyone.” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“so what exactly was going on then?”

“god, mom! this is like the last thing i want to talk about right now.”

“suit yourself.” she gives you one more look. “but i need you to calm down before you come back out there.” and with that she walks out of the room. you flop on the bed and groan.

how did everything turn to shit? you are so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice that yeonjun walked into the room until he spoke. “can we talk?”

you quickly sit up on the bed, adjusting your dress, and looking at him before scoffing. “you want to talk now?”

“why are you being weird?” he is leaning against the door frame, not knowing whether or not he was welcome to walk in.

“i’m not being weird.”

“why didn’t you come home this summer?”

you look him in the eyes for what felt like five minutes. “why are you pretending like nothing happened between us?”

he takes your response as an invitation to enter your room. he moves to sit on the bed next to you. “i know that i was really mean to you the last time we saw each other but i don’t hate you and i don’t want you to hate me.” you scoff. “what?”

“i don’t think i could hate you even if i tried.” you reply, quietly. the two of you fall into a silence. you took in your room and the man sitting beside you. you two had spent many nights in this room, but tonight you both felt out of place. the fairy lights that surrounded your bed and windows highlight how aged he looks. the once comfortable silence between you two was now a gap, a liminal space. not quite what it used to be before, but not quite awkward.

“i’m–”

“i think–”

you both begin talking at the same time but stop. “you can go first,” you concede.

“i’m sorry for that night at my party.” he begins, not making eye contact with you while you are eyeing him intently. “i think i was more embarrassed than angry and i shouldn’t have talked to you like that.”

“i’m sorry too. for showing up unannounced.”

“what were you going to say?” he quickly changes the subject, feeling that the silence was threatening to return.

“i was saying, i think you were right.”

“right about what?”

“about us not being able to be friends again.”

“i didn’t say that exactly.” he reminds you.

“yeah, whatever, i know.” you roll your eyes. “but i’ve been thinking about it a lot – our friendship. and i don’t think we were ever really friends.”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean our moms are friends and they kind of shoved us together. i feel like we never got to know each other outside of growing up together.” you feel blood rush to your face when you notice how attentively he is listening to you, taking in all your words. you look down at your hands, like a child being scolded by their parents. “i guess i don’t want to go back to what our friendship was. i want to get to know you as you are now. i also had a massive crush on you.”

“wait, had? like past tense?” he jokes.

“yeah, past tense.” you lightly punch his shoulder. “i think when we moved for college, i was really insecure about our friendship, because we had no true bond, you know? i think i convinced myself that i had a crush on you, when in reality, i just knew you were slipping away from me.”

“or maybe you were swept away by my good looks and charming personality?”

“actually, i think it was the former.”

“i mean it’s just a possibility.”

“now i’m definitely sure it was the former.” you smile, thinking about how you were falling back into your old banter.

“okay, ouch.” the silence came again, but this time it was comfortable – something you hadn’t felt in a long time. “i wish you told me sooner.” he says after a while.

“why does it matter?”

“i would have never let us get to this point if i knew how you felt before. i felt us drifting apart and after you left i was really embarrassed. it was easier to blame you and push you away. i really miss you and i want us to be friends.” you look into his eyes and you can tell that he was being genuine; not just saying what you wanted to hear. “truly friends; not just childhood friends.”

"i want that too."

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jaymaybnk · 1 year

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@kierras

au — met in college.

Music vibrated through the floor up into the soles of well worn combat boots as JJ Maybank walked into the first party he’s been to in a month. And if it had been up to him, the typical life of the party would be back at home, rolling a joint and turning on Jurassic Park again. But apparently, his best friend wasn’t having that. It’s been three weeks, dude. John B had said, dragging JJ into his room to put him in a offensively bright button up. It’s time to get back out there. And maybe he had been right. A month had passed since he and Emily broke up, and honestly, while the relationship felt like it was ending earlier than that, the blind side of Emily showing up at his dorm to tell him that she had slept with her ex on a weekend trip home had thrown him for a loop. The shock led him to a cycle of self pity that John B was simply not going to tolerate anymore. There’s a party tonight, JJs oldest friend had lectured. We’re going. And it would’ve been fun — except the second they walked in, JJ knew that John B was here for one thing. The blonde girl flitting around the place like she lived there. In fact, she probably did.

JJ remembered a girl that John B met in class and couldn’t stop thinking about - her name was escaping him but, the way that the other man forgot about his friend who was only out to get his mind off his ex, the blonde knew that he had been dragged to the home of John B’s dream girl. Any other time, JJ would’ve been fine with it - parties were his scene. But he didn’t really feel up to watching his friend mack on a girl all night, especially not in this shirt. The music vibrated his shoes as he walked away from the drinks table, red solo cup in his hand as he tried to find someplace where he could blend in until a safe amount of time passed for him to disappear. A corner by the TV was empty except for a singular person. A woman leaning against the wall who had almost a mirror image of what JJ assumed his face looked like at the moment. “So what?” The blonde asked, downing half his drink in one swallow as he approached. “Is it safe to assume this is the ‘just been ditched’ corner? Y’look the way I feel.”

#. *. ⋆ — v: enchanted to meet you.#ofc im using enchanted for this tag #kierras.#. *. ⋆ — kie.

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rindousberry · 2 years

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❝𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧❞

✿featuring: college!perv!chifuyu x f!reader.

✿synopsis: chifuyu finally gets to fulfill his deepest desires with you...in a pool.

✿w: cursing, hand job, boob job, blowjob, all the jobs lmao, pool sex (obviously), dom/sub themes,slight praise, pet names and a creampie.

✿wc: aprox.2k

✿a/n: i’m back at it again!!! this time it’s a fuyu piece. as usual lower caps are intended and so is the use of this symbol (;)

tagging my bb ♥ @getoswhore

“come on bro, it’ll be fun, don’t be so uptight about it.”

chifuyu wondered at times what the hell did he do in his past life to deserve his pain in the ass of a best friend. he’s been trying to finish his paper that was due tomorrow, emphasis on trying, since baji just came back from his night classes with an invite to a pool party their frat brothers were having, in the middle of the goddamn week; and of course, he was adamant on dragging chifuyu with him.

“i’m not being uptight, i’m trying to graduate, unlike you apparently.”

baji stared him down, squinting his eyes at the backhanded remark before placing his hand on top of chifuyu’s open chemistry book with a loud thud, right on the paragraph he was currently reading.

"fine then, guess i'll go solo this time. i'll be sure to tell your little girlfriend you said hi." baji grinned, a sense of triumph washing over him as his friend's previous annoyed expression morphed into a mortified one.

chifuyu was currently trying his best to not let his mind conjure the image of you in a skimpy swimsuit.

"you motherfuck-"

and that's exactly how he found himself about an hour later, standing by the pool with a red cup in hand at the kawata twins' estate, cursing his strong libido and wishing he had a bit more self control and restraint when it came to you.

his entire sophmore year consisted of nothing but studying, barely hanging out with his small clique of friends and late nights under the sheets, trying not to wake his roommate up whilst jerking off to the thought of you, absolutely perfect in every way.

baji had a way of messing with him, especially when it came to you; being the only one who was remotely aware of his little crush. it was pathetic really, he had no problem talking to other girls on campus but when you would say hi to him in the halls, chifuyu would suddenly lose the ability to speak normally.

with a miserable sigh, he sipped on his cold beverage, his friends going on about the most stupid shit; he heard the sounds of giggling to his left and averted his gaze for a moment, all air leaving his lungs at the sight of you.

your hair up in a bun, a few strands loose, cherry coated lips curved into a sweet smile; and your swimsuit - god your swimsuit. it was all frilly and cute, pink and white meeting the soft hue of your skin, the way it perfectly pushed your supple tits together and please don't let him start on your perky ass and full thighs.

he had to excuse himself, before completely busting on the spot.

entering the nearest bathroom, locking it and sitting down to catch his breath, he could feel his heart thundering, pulse drumming in his ears.

he felt like he was in high school all over again, acting up like this over a girl.

he was just so horny; and you were the epitome of every dude’s dream.

his hand was already reaching down to pull down his swimming trunks, grazing his shaft whilst letting out a low hiss; but a sudden knock on the door startled him to his senses, hand flying right back out.

he mumbled an apology to the guy waiting outside and went back to his spot by the pool’s ledge, crisp air hitting him in all of the wrong places.

chifuyu looked around him, only to notice the party moved inside, (while he was embarrassingly trying to jerk one out), as the weather was indeed getting colder. he sat down, legs dipping in the water, staring up at the night sky, almost at the point of pitying himself.

“is it okay if i sit down next to you?”

to him, it sounded like heaven speaking;when he turned his head to the right he was met with your waist.

to not come out as a complete perv, he adjusted his gaze upwards, to your breas-your face! he meant your face.

a true angel in disguise. your smile could really light up even the dimmest of outdoor pools. he often imagined what those lips would look like wrapped around his cock.

“y-yeah, sure.”

he wasn’t trying to sound hesitant, but this was the first time you two ever spoke, he was about to have a stroke.

you plopped down next to him, leaning back on your hands, giving him the view of a lifetime.

“what are you doing out here all alone?”

oh you know, being anti-social, daydreaming about fucking you into oblivion; the usual really.

“it got too much for me, i’m uh...not much of a party person honestly. my friend had to drag me out of the dorms.”

you let out a giggle and he swore he could see stars.

“what got you to cave in then?”

you asked, and he couldn’t be more embarrassed.

you.

“oh you know, he can be very...persuasive when he wants to.”

you nodded your head and he was relieved when you didn’t try to pry any further.

“well, whatever the reason was, i’m glad you decided to come, chifuyu.”

you caught his stare with your own, the sound of his name dripped like pure honey from your lips, sending tingles down his spine. he was surprised you even knew his name. your lips curved into a sweet smile once more, and he noticed something else behind your eyes.

“...and i think you’re glad to see me too.” he gulped, your stare was now somewhere else completely; he was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was probably still sporting that raging boner from earlier.

you wasted no time, jumping into the pool with a loud splash.

“w-wha-”

chifuyu was hit with the ricochet, water momentarily blocking his vision.

he felt something cool and wet feeling up his thighs.

managing to open his eyes, with water still keeping his lashes somewhat stuck together, he saw you, in all of your glory with your fingers dancing on his bare skin, your once sweet smile turned into a mischievous smirk. droplets of water collected upon the soft skin of your breasts and if he wasn’t already hard, surely he would be, after seeing that.

“nobody’s watching, don’t freak out.”

chifuyu was torn; not sure what he was more worried about; his friends catching you two at it, or the fact that it’ll be over as soon as they do.

this was starting to look like a scene from a porn video he watched once.

your perfectly manicured nails grazed his shaft, just like he did before, in the bathroom; but the intensity of that feeling was multiplied and he couldn’t help but let out a choked moan.

“go ahead baby, let your voice out.”

you put all of your weight on him, breasts and all and he was weak. stroking his cock, you gave extra attention to the tip, already red and leaking with precum.

you definitely had experience, you were too good at this.

“a-ah, slow down a little, s’too much.”

you didn’t just slow down, you stopped altogether and his eyes, glazed over, suddenly focused on you, very needy. he followed the movement of your hands as you placed them on either sides of your swimsuit top, tugging at the material.

“i bet you’d like my tits all over your dick huh?”

as if you really had to ask. your teasing stopped with one rough tug later and he was graced with the magnificent sight of your bare breasts. you cupped them, moving towards him, creating ripples in the water as you went.

the sound of people’s laughter broke his trance, as he dared looking behind him.

“they could-”

“relax, they’re wasted.”

your melodious voice brought him back just in time for the first contact, skin enveloping skin. your tits felt amazing and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to take much more, much longer.

“feels good, doesn’t it?”

you let out a small huff, working the pair up and down, creating a steady rhythm. chifuyu was losing himself in the warmth , shamelessy moaning, throwing his head back, seeing hazy images of the people inside, through the glass door.

“i bet you secretly like this, so close to getting caught.”

he did. he really did.

“tell me how much you like it then.”

you picked up the pace and his mind went blank. he wasn’t even sure you were talking at first, mind filled only with the pleasure you were giving him.

“i-i like it, i like it so much, i’m about to bust.”

that answer was like music to your ears, as you went down and gave him a different kind of pleasure, wrapping your lips around the head as it reappeared between your two mounds.

“go ahead baby, bust all over.”

and that he did, giving out with a long moan, bursts of pearly white soon covering your tits and a bit of your face.

pushing out your tongue once more, you licked the bit of cum dripping down your chin.

“t-that was...you were...”

chifuyu’s soul had left his body and was ascending at this point.

“we’re not done yet, pretty boy.”

with no warning, you pulled on his arm and had him holding you close, both of you in the pool now. you turned around and felt the cool marble of the pool’s side on your back, already pulling your panties aside, the water tickling at your entrance.

“what are you waiting for?”

you asked, arms wrapping around his neck for support and chifuyu was entranced, looking down at where you were both soon to be met, as he held his shaft in his hand, guiding it inside you.

“god...you’re so tight.”

the friction of the pool water made it all the better for you both as he slid in and never all the way out.

“y-yes, right there, hit it right there, you’re doing so g-good.”

your praise made him want to please you even more, his pace quickening, catching your tongue with his in a passionate exchange of saliva.

you felt the hard surface of the pool’s interior marble hitting your back with every thrust, but you were too lost, too drunk on his dick to care; you’d knew he’d be the perfect toy as soon as you laid eyes on him the first day of the new year, too shy to even meet your gaze.

“y-you’re such a good boy fuyu, fuck me h-harder.”

you moaned out and he was yours to command, the sound of skin slapping on skin could be vaguely heard, blocked out by the water.

“i-i’m getting close...can i-can cum inside you?”

chifuyu was whining at this point, pleading for release. he wished he could be wrapped in your velvety walls forever.

“fill me to the b-brim baby, stuff me full.”

his climax rushed in like a wave right after, looking down and seeing his cum leaking out of you was like a reward.

“such a good boy fuyu, you did such a good job.”

you praised him again, too fucked out to say anything else.

‘this was definitely not going to be the last time.’

you both thought as you gave him a peck on the lips.

“oy! chifuyu, we’re heading out, where the hell are you?”

you giggled, your little toy was absolutely terrified as you saw baji looking around the house for his blonde friend. he was never going to let this one go.

“what do you say, we get out of here?”

you asked, wishfully.

“out of here, w-where?”

he looked lost, like a puppy, you laughed.

“i could think of a place...”

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revenges smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev smut #tokyo rev x reader #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu x reader #chifuyu smut #berry writes🍓

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angelasscribbles · 2 years

Text

Leo and Liv Chapter 5: Friends

Series: Leo and Liv.

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Leo Rys x Olivia Nevrakis

Rating: R

Warnings: Language, mentions sex

Everything else: Master List.

“Welcome to night two of Prince Leo’s twentieth birthday baaaaassshhhh!!!! Now, some ground rules! No horses in the house, no sabering champagne and no sliding down the banisters!” Bertrand paused for effect.

Everyone stared at him.

“JUST KIDDING!!!! Now get your party on!” Bertrand yelled as he slid down the banister.

The crowd whooped; Maxwell zipped by on a Segway and the DJ cranked the music up. Beer kegs were strategically placed in every corner, a champagne fountain graced the center of the grand dining hall and peacocks ran freely from room to room.

Leo sidled over to Olivia with two red solo cups in his hand, “Hey Livvie.” He smiled at her as he handed her a cup.

She frowned suspiciously, “What’s in here Leo? Is it pickle juice?”

Leo laughed, “No, I’m not twelve anymore.”

“Even at fifteen you were still a prankster. Am I to understand you’ve reformed?” She gave him a skeptical look.

“I mean, you may not know this,” He leaned in conspiratorially, “But I am the crown prince of Cordonia. I have a certain image to uphold you know.”

Olivia threw her head back and laughed. It was loud and authentic, not the teeny, tinkling fake laughs of the women that were always trying to impress him. He could never tell when his wit was actually appreciated with them. Liv was just so real. Her laugh filled him an unfamiliar warmth. He’d do anything to hear it again.

He spent the next thirty minutes regaling her with tales of his exploits over the last five years. He may have embellished a little. Or a lot. He just like to hear her laugh.

At some point, Liam and Drake showed up.

“Hey Liam.” Olivia greeted him.

“Oh, hey, hi.” Liam stammered.

“Just coming over to say hi.” Drake announced, “You know, before we go party some more. Just what you do at Beaumont Bashes you know, hang out, get drunk, have meaningless hookups.”

“Yeah….what do you two want?” Leo asked.

“Nothing, nothing. Hey, how are you two getting along?” Liam asked.

“Fine.” Olivia narrowed her eyes. “What kind of question is that?”

“Well, you know a lot of women find Leo very attractive. Right, Li?” Drake elbowed him in the stomach.

“Oof! I mean, yeah, right. They do!”

“The fuck?” Olivia’s eyes darted back and forth between them.

“Why are you two being so fucking weird?” Leo asked.

“Nothing!” Liam yelped out.

“We’re not!” Drake protested.

“Excuse us!” Liam drug Drake away, “Abort mission! Abort mission! This is not going well at all!”

“What you mean? I think she bought it.” Drake argued.

“New plan!” Liam said, “I just stay away from her for the rest of the night. And maybe forever after?”

“Oh, yeah, that’ll work.” Drake replied sarcastically.

“Just….just help me avoid her.”

“Oh, I know!” Drake grinned, “We’ll just find you another hook up, then you’ll be occupied. I’m sure we can find a girl to hang all over you all night.”

“That….that actually might work.” Liam reluctantly followed Drake through the crowd in search of salvation.

Leo watched Liam and Drake from across the room before turning his attention back to Olivia. “What the fuck is up with those two?”

“I don’t know.” Olivia’s expression turned serious, “They were acting really weird.”

She glanced across the room at them, then back to Leo. “Can I confide something in you?”

“Anything!” He responded immediately.

She drew in a deep breath and looked around to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear. “I think I might….like someone. But…it’s complicated because we’ve known each other all our lives.”

Leo perked up immediately, “Really?” A smile broke out across his face.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure he feels the same way. And I might have already messed it all up.”

“He feels the same way.” Leo affirmed happily.

Her eyes snapped up to him, “How do you know? I haven’t even said who it is.”

“Right. I just meant that unless he’s a blind idiot, I’m sure he feels the same way and I can’t imagine anything you’ve done that could possibly mess it up.”

“Well, last night we were both really drunk and….”

“And you slept with someone else? I’m sure he wouldn’t hold a drunken one-night stand against you, especially considering his own-“

“No. Not someone else. I slept with him! And I’m afraid it’ll be awkward between us now and I don’t want that.”

“Wait, what?” Leo blinked rapidly. She hadn’t been talking about him. Of course, she hadn’t been talking about him. He’d been gone for five fucking years.

Olivia sighed, “Maybe I should just woman up and ask him how he feels.”

He followed her gaze across the room and blanched, “You have feelings for Drake?”

“What?” She spun back to face him with a look of horror, “No! Of course not! Ugh! That’s….no, just no.”

Leo’s brow furrowed, “Ok, if it’s not Drake, who else did you grow up wi-“ He stopped talking as a horrible, terrible thought washed over him. Oh, no. “You slept with my brother?”

She couldn’t mean Liam, could she? Maybe it was Maxwell or Bertrand, they’d been around a lot growing up. It could be a lot of people, really, he tried to convince himself.

“Shhhh!” Olivia slapped his arm, “Not so loud!”

His eyes widened. She did mean his brother. Suddenly Liam and Drake’s behavior made more sense. Of course, she had feelings for Liam. Everyone loved Liam. Liam was everything that he wasn’t. He had always been Constantine’s favorite, the good son, the responsible one, the one that did everything right.

He couldn’t even be mad about it. How could he? Where had he been for the last five years? Not there for her, not there for his brother, not there for anyone. He’d been out chasing skirts, alcohol, drugs and a good time. He’d been there for no one, focused only on shirking his responsibilities and making a career out of disappointing his father.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just-“ He struggled to conceal his shock and disappointment.

“Just what?”

“I mean….he doesn’t really seem like your type, Liv.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, he’s so young and a little naïve and let’s face it, a bit of a stick in the mud.”

She slid her eyes over to him, “We’re the same age! Or are you saying I’m too jaded for him? Not sweet enough?”

Leo froze, unsure how to proceed, “I feel like there’s no right answer to that. In what universe has Olivia Nevrakis ever wanted to be seen as sweet? No matter how I answer that, you’re going to get mad at me.”

That got a smile out of her, “Ok, fair enough.” She sighed, “You’re not wrong. I just….I wish I knew how he felt so I’d know which way to go with this.”

“You could just ask him.”

She looked up at him with a vulnerable expression and his heart sank as she said, “Or you could.”

“What?” That was literally the last thing he wanted to do, but the way she was looking at him, he couldn’t tell her no.

“Never mind, forget it, it’s stupid.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid, you’re not stupid. I’ll do it.” He’d do it because he wanted to know the answer too. He needed to know the answer.

“Really?”

“Really.” He nodded.

“You’re a good friend, Leo.” She went up on her tiptoes to give him a hug.

He returned her hug. Friend. Never had that word hurt before.

#leo and liv #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #leo x olivia #leo rys #olivia nevrakis #choices #trr #the royal romance fanfic #the royal romance #choices stories you play

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

Text

Heels {Rowaelin}

The prompt: walks in front of their crush in stripper heals and a short skirt because they want their attention

Rowan x Aelin os

Written with @snelbz

There was no way this could be a good idea.

Aelin was sitting on her bed, watching as Lysandra flicked through her closet. She had told her that tonight was the night and had recruited her to help her do what she considered nearly impossible.

She was going to get the attention of Rowan Whitethorn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know she existed, it was quite the opposite. He was one of her friends, having met during orientation week their freshman year, and as their group grew, so did their friendship. But after three and a half years, she had very solidly gotten her stuck as just that: his friend.

“You’re wasting your time,” Aelin crooned, flipping through the timeline on her phone.

“Bullshit,” Lysandra muttered, flipping through the clothes in her closet. “You need to feel confident, Aelin. Rowan is obsessed with you, and you’re obsessed with him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but remained quiet.

“How about this?” Lysandra asked, pulling out a denim mini skirt and black halter cropped top. As Aelin was about to reply, Lysandra said, “Say nothing. Put it on.”

With a roll of her eyes, yet again, Aelin did as much. Once she had the skirt and top on, she looked in the mirror.

And she looked hot as hell.

“Shoes?” Aelin asked, despite herself.

“Oh, I have the perfect heels,” Lysandra said, fleeing from the room. She came back a moment later with a pair of black stilettos that were Aelin’s size.

Scoffing, Aelin held them up. “I’m going to break my neck.”

Lysandra snorted and flounced back into the bathroom where she continued to straighten her hair. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Fine,” Aelin amended. “I’m going to break my ankle.” She set the shoes on her bed and joined Lysandra in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

She let Lysandra curl her hair, but drew the line when she offered to do her makeup. They had very different styles when it came to that and while Lysandra looked drop dead gorgeous with her cat-eye liner and ruby red lips, Aelin would never be able to pull it off.

“Where is this party even at?” Lysandra asked, pulling her hair back into a stylish ponytail.

“Lorcan’s.” Aelin was trying to keep her hand steady as she applied the thin line of liquid eyeliner to her upper lid. “I think Elide convinced him to throw it.”

Lysandra snorted, applying her mascara. “Sounds right. Lorcan isn’t exactly the host-type.”

Aelin grinned, tossing her eyeliner in her makeup bag. “Alright, hurry up. I want to make my entrance.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysandra took one last look in the mirror and declared herself ready and they were off.

Lorcan’s apartment was just on the edge of campus, so the two girls walked and earned the eager glances of many as they did so.

Aelin took it as a good sign.

“Will Aedion be here tonight?” Lysandra asked, shooting a glance over at Aelin.

She groaned. “Probably.” She still couldn’t believe that her roommate actually had the hots for her cousin. He was practically her brother and the thought of him in any sort of compromising position made her want to gag. “If you hook up with him tonight, please do it at his place. I can’t afford therapy on my barista’s salary.”

“Trust me,” Lysandra said, adjusting her ponytail as they approached the steps to Lorcan’s. “I plan on giving you complete privacy at the apartment tonight. And you better take advantage of it.”

Butterflies grew in the pit of Aelin’s stomach.

She planned to, hoped to, wanted to…but, she had to catch Rowan’s eye first - something that made her nerves go haywire.

Lysandra must have caught it, because they stopped outside of Lorcan’s door and Lysandra made Aelin face her.

“You look gorgeous,” she said, and brushed Aelin’s hair back. “He’d be an idiot not to come after you.”

That was the goal, after all. Aelin was not going to be the one doing the chasing. She wanted Rowan to see her, want her, not be able to take his eyes off of her. She knew he’d be here, the party was at his best friend’s apartment, knew that everyone from their friend group would show up. Yet she was absolutely fucking terrified he’d see her and have zero reaction.

She played it off with a joke though. Scoffing, she tossed her hair over a shoulder. “He’d better. I didn’t book an emergency appointment with my waxer for nothing.”

If Lysandra noticed the fake bravado — which she absolutely did, she and Aelin had become as close as sisters over the past three years — she didn’t call her out on it. Instead, she smirked, smacked Aelin on the ass, and said, “Then let’s go get your man.”

The music could be heard from a block away, and when they opened the front door, the apartment was already packed.

People definitely noticed them come in, though, including Elide who was running towards them, a drink in hand. “It’s about time you two showed up!”

“The host himself isn’t here to greet us?” Aelin mocked, giving Elide a hug.

Elide chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “He’s been out on the balcony for about a half hour, avoiding all human interaction.”

“Sounds about right,” Lysandra replied, rolling her eyes, but then she began looking around the spacious townhouse Lorcan and Elide shared. “You haven’t seen Aedion tonight, have you?”

Elide gave Aelin a knowing glance, but said, “Last I saw, he was playing beer pong with Fenrys. Don’t know who the poor bastards getting their asses handed to them were, but they’re probably still in the kitchen.”

Lysandra gave Aelin a wink. “Good luck.” And then she was gone, lost in the bodies dancing to the music.

Her part in tonight was done, to help Aelin get Rowan’s attention. It was all up to Aelin now, so Lysandra was free to find someone to occupy her own time. Even if the thought of who she’d be with made Aelin want to shudder.

Alone with Aelin, or as close to it as they could be, Elide let out a low whistle as she finally took in Aelin’s outfit. “I have a feeling that outfit isn’t just to impress me.”

“Does that mean you’re not impressed?” Aelin asked, pretending to pout.

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and led her to the bar. “I’m always impressed, but I don’t think you care so much about my opinion, do you?”

Aelin snorted as she began to look around, but Elide saved her the struggle.

“He’s on the patio with Lor,” Elide said, simply. “Don’t worry. I’ll drag his ass back in here soon and Rowan will follow.”

Elide poured them both a shot, which Aelin gladly took and even asked for another. But when Manon and Asterin Blackbeak showed up, she waved Elide off to go greet her friends, and leaned against the bar, debating on a third shot.

She wasn’t trying to get shitty tonight, just a little messy, but her nerves were beginning to grow again.

Just as she decided to say fuck it, and get another shot, and heard a whistle from behind her. She turned and found Dorian Havilliard staring at her legs.

Or maybe he was staring at her ass.

They had messed around her freshman year, when his dorm room was just down the hall from hers, but it had never been anything more than that between them, and they agreed that they were better as friends. It didn’t mean they didn’t have fun though.

She smirked as she tossed the glass back and set it down on the bar top, before turning to him. “See anything you like?”

“I see quite a few things I like,” he said, raising his drink in salute. “Then again, only a fourth of your skin is covered, so there’s a lot to look at.”

Aelin laughed, quietly, and clinked her empty shot glass against his full bottle. “Gotta show off what the gods gave me.”

“As you should,” he agreed with a wink. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Well, it is school, and I actually study,” Aelin said, turning to refill her shot glass.

Dorian had the audacity to look offended. “Hey, I study, too.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back around. “Reading a bunch of books that have nothing to do with any of your classes doesn’t count as studying, Dor.”

“But they’re so much more interesting,” he replied, chuckling as he thought of the boring curriculum he studied for his pre-law degree.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she tossed back the shot and set it behind the bar. Four shots was enough. She’d be fun, she’d be confident, but she wasn’t tipsy enough to make an ass of herself.

Yet.

“I assume all of this skin isn’t for me, so who are you trying to impress?” Dorian asked, and then added, with a wink, “Chaol?”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin shook her head. “Absolutely not. That ended in a disaster and I’m not inclined to repeat it.”

The sliding glass door opened and Aelin’s eyes snapped to the door, before she quickly turned away before Lorcan and Rowan stepped inside.

“Oh,” Dorian chuckled, softly. “Whitethorn then.”

It wasn’t a question.

He had moved imperceptibly closer and she knew how it would look to Rowan. For whatever reason, she decided she wanted him to be jealous she was talking to another guy.

Even if she had no idea whether or not he’d even noticed her.

“Is this who I am now?” Dorian asked, quietly, leaning into her ear, fully aware that it looked like he was coming onto her. “Your super hot wingman?”

Aelin snorted, and didn’t bother moving away. “My overly cocky wingman, maybe.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “I still take it as a compliment.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be flirting up Manon instead of fake flirting with me?” Aelin whispered, quietly. She glanced at Rowan, who was filling up a red solo cup.

“I like to make Manon wait,” Dorian said, running a finger up Aelin’s forearm. “She gets jealous, too, and it makes things so much more exciting in the bedroom.”

“Thanks for the image, Dor,” Aelin said, pushing away the need to roll her eyes and flick him in the nose.

He and Manon weren’t exclusively in a relationship, but everyone knew they hooked up with each other, and only each other. But, again, totally not exclusive.

“Besides,” Dorian mused, his finger skimming Aelin’s arm. “She’s busy doing body shots with Asterin. I’ll enjoy her later.”

Aelin snorted, reaching behind the bar and pulling an ice cold beer from the open cooler. She handed it to him and he opened it for her, flicking the cap in the air as if it were a coin.

He let it fall to the bar top as he leaned in to whisper in her ear one last time. “Pretty sure that’s my cue.”

She followed his gaze across the room, and found Rowan looking at her. Watching her and Dorian both.

“Have fun,” he added, before sauntering off towards the kitchen.

Rowan watched Dorian walk away to the other side of the room where he sat to watch Aedion and Fenrys continue to dominate in beer pong.

When Rowan’s eyes trailed back to Aelin, she was already watching him, a slightly-forced mischievous smile on her lips.

On the inside, she felt like she was going to puke.

He made his way across the room, pausing in front of her and slipped his free hand into his pocket. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why it sounded so breathless.

“I didn’t see you get here,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

She did the same, fighting the urge to toss her hair over a shoulder. “You were outside.” She realized that told him she was keeping tabs on him and she quickly added. “I mean, Elide told me Lorcan was outside, so I assumed you had to be with him.”

He smirked. “Right. Well, I was. It’s a little crowded in here.” She nodded, but he went on. “However, seems like you didn’t mind when Havilliard was over here with you. Not too crowded for you, then, huh?”

Aelin slowly lifted a golden brow. If Rowan wanted to play, she would play. “Not crowded enough for someone to be blocking your view of me with Dorian, apparently.”

A light lit up Rowan’s green eyes as his jaw twitched, suppressing a grin. “I can always count on you to manipulate my words and their meaning, Galathynius.”

Aelin’s grin was wide. “Someone has to keep you in your place, Whitethorn.”

“And is that you?” He asked, voice low as he took a drink from his cup. “The person that’s going to keep me in my place?”

Aelin’s eyes glittered as she took another drink. It was always easy with Rowan. They could talk for hours, that witty banter, back and forth. But, that’s all that had ever happened between them: simple conversation.

From the way she caught him watching her legs as she took a drink, though, she thought tonight may just end up as she planned.

A hell of a lot more than simple conversation.

“Want to dance?” She asked.

His eyes slowly slid up her body to meet her gaze. “You know I don’t dance, Ace.”

She took a long, slow drink from her bottle. “Not even with me?”

“Not with anyone,” he said, crossing his arms and resting a hip against the bar.

It was a miracle no one had interrupted them, but the bulk of the drinks had been set up in the kitchen.

“That’s a shame,” Aelin sighed, finishing off her beer and tossing the empty bottle in the trash can. “I would love to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

Rowan said, “I’m sure you can find someone, especially with how you’re dressed tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “And how is that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look drop dead fucking sexy,” he replied, without missing a beat. “I just don’t get why.”

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“Why try so hard?” He asked, head cocked to the side. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Cocky bastard. She could see it in his eyes, he knew what he was doing and she hated him for it.

Hated that she loved it, anyway.

“What need would I have to impress anyone?” Aelin asked, chin raised. “I think I’m naturally perfect in every way.”

Rowan chuckled. “Then you should’ve come in your sweatpants and a tank top.”

Aelin rose a brow.

Rowan shrugged. “I think that’s when you’re sexiest.”

With that, with his cup pressed to his lips, he turned and walked away.

Aelin blinked after him, not sure she was sure she heard him right. He made his way through the people and headed back to the door leading out onto the balcony, stopping to say something to Lorcan. He waved him off and then Rowan was slipping back outside, while Aelin just started after him.

She pushed her way through the crowd, which was easier said than done when you weren’t a six-foot-four giant who mildly scared the shit out of everyone by scowling at them, but she eventually made it to the door. Sliding it open, she stepped out into the balmy night air.

“You can’t say shit like that and then just disappear,” Aelin said, finding him exactly how she’d expected to.

Rowan was leaned against the wall, the sole of one booted foot pressed against it as well. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers. She gave him shit about smoking all the time, but knew he only did it when he drank.

Or when he had something on his mind.

He held the cigarette out to her, but she gave him a look. “You know better than to offer me that.”

Rowan just grinned and put it back between his lips. “You’re missing the party.”

“What did you mean?” Aelin asked, standing opposite of him, leaning against the railing.

“When?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” she snapped, and it got his attention.

Blowing a puff of smoke into the cool night air, he met her gaze and slowly shook his head. He gestured to her outfit, to the heels that were making her feet ache. “What is this?”

“They’re clothes,” she said. “For a party.”

“They’re Lysandra’s,” he replied, simply.

“I can’t wear my roommate’s clothes?” Aelin scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight-.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re just trying to impress someone?” he interrupted, watching her, that light in his eye fading. “You’ve never been not-confident a day in your life. Whoever it is that you’re trying to impress, he obviously isn’t worth it if it causes you to be someone you’re not.”

Aelin looked down at the cropped halter top, the skirt that hardly reached her thighs, the heels that she was certain would cause blisters. “This is someone I’m not?”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “Last time we went out, you wore that little golden slip dress….” He shook his head, reminiscing on the memory. “That was you. You wore sneakers and you were still barefoot halfway through the night, dancing on the patio. What you’re wearing now - yeah, you look gorgeous - but I can tell you’re not comfortable in it.”

“If I’m trying to get someone’s attention, maybe my usual isn’t best. Especially if it pushes me out of my comfort zone,” she snapped back, her hands on her hips. “And why is it such a problem if I’m trying to impress someone? Dorian was impressed.”

“Dorian doesn’t drool all over you like a dog in heat,” he replied. “He respects you, regardless of what you’re wearing, how much skin you’re showing off. But if you’re trying to impress some D bag who will only notice you if you’re dressed like that, you might want to reconsider.”

“And what if I was trying to impress you?” She asked, getting in his face, cigarette smoke and whiskey breath be damned. “What if I was trying to get your attention, Rowan?”

His jaw locked and his eyes searched hers, as if he was trying to find the underlying meaning in what she was saying, even if there wasn’t one.

“Then you’d be wasting your time,” he said, at last.

It felt like a knife had been shoved into Aelin’s ribs with every word that had come out of his mouth. Begging herself not to cry in front of him, she went to take a step away, but Rowan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

Their chests were nearly touching, and his hand trailed from her wrist, into her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers.

He took the cigarette from his lips and said, “You’d be wasting your time because you impress me every time that I’m around you.”

“You never act like it,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You never do anything, and you’ve never tried to make a move. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

He flicked the cigarette over the rail and let go of her hand, only to frame her face with both of his. “This.”

And then his lips were on hers, and Aelin didn’t care that she could taste residual smoke or stale beer. She knew she didn’t taste much better. All that mattered was that Rowan was kissing her and his hands were on her face and hers were tangled up in his shirt. His tongue slid against hers and she had to fight to stop the moan that threatened to slip out of her.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “That,” he said, breathlessly. “That is what you should have done to get my attention.”

Aelin swallowed, harshly. “Do it again.”

Rowan didn’t have to be convinced. His hands slid down her back as he brought his mouth to hers, and he pulled her body uptight against his. They stayed out there for a long time, for hours, uninterrupted.

At one point, she saw Dorian come by and lock the balcony door, so everyone else would get the hint to stay the hell away.

Wingman of the year.

They stayed on the balcony, kissing and laughing and kissing some more, until the party wound down. Around two, Lorcan let them inside, and Aelin pulled Rowan out of the apartment and across campus to her own.

True to Lysandra’s word, she was nowhere to be found.

The second Aelin stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and was swept into Rowan’s arms. He carried her into her bedroom, where he stripped her down, out of her roommate’s clothes.

Rowan Whitethorn saw all of her.

She had his full attention.

#rowaelin #rowan #aelin #rowan x aelin #aelin x rowan #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #oneshot #prompts #collab #snacmc

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slightlymore · 3 years

Text

green (aka ‘red’ part 2)

slytherin doyoung x ravenclaw fem reader

genre: hogwarts au but all different, romance, smut, established relationship (read ‘red’ if you’re into enemies to lovers), fluff

warnings: sexy times (69, bodies connected by slytherin magic idk, little rough, mention of saliva and all that jazz, mention of overstimulation, swallowing, use of magic during sexy times, solo m, solo f, fingering, raw, phone sex, spanking, short istance of subby dy, light bondage dy receiving, dry humping, mention of safe word, borderline sexy times in public), mention of natural events such as thunder, lightning, fire, water, rocks etc lmao, swearing, teasing

words: 9k

huge thanks to @spookyhyuck and @sunflowerforhaechan for helping me out with this fic!!!! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

____________

Previously, in Red

“It’s just– it’s unfair. So I– also want to know.”

“You want to own my cock?” he chuckled in the crook of your neck.

“Why do you really have to use such words?!”

“You can do it. You just need to go down on me too.”

“Even if I’m not a slytherin?”

“If you’re in love with your slytherin partner, you don’t need to be one to be tied to them like that.”

“Pants off then. Now.”

Doyoung inhaled once, eyes darting from your face to your hands already trying to unbuckle his belt.

"Are you-- are you sure about this?"

Your eyes lit up with mischief, causing the young man to bite his lower lip. "Are you perhaps stuttering now, Kim Doyoung?"

"I just--you'll legit feel it every time I'll-"

"So what? Does that make you nervous?"

You leaned down and cupped his cheek. He let his head fall on the mattress at your gentle push and he closed his eyes when he felt your lips gently kissing his neck. Your fingers started to draw patterns on his collar bones; while the other hand slipped past the restriction of his trousers, touch gentle above his boxers.

Doyoung's breath stopped for a moment before he released it, his cock twitching under your fingertips, so eager to be touched without the layer of fabric of his underwear.

"I'd love to be able to feel it every time you fucked your fists," you whispered into his open lips, “bet it would make me so wet."

You dragged the last word out while your hand palmed him and you loved to see him strain his neck to the side, his pulsing artery inviting you to just bite into it.

And you were about to do it; if Doyoung hadn't of grabbed your wrists and smiled wickedly all of sudden.

“Alright. But turn around,” he instructed. His fingers intertwined with yours and for a moment it felt fuzzy and warm. But the dying sun and its shadows made him look dangerous instead of aethereal.

“Huh?” you tried to move away but his grip was iron.

“Turn around? Oh,” You blinked, finally making a sense of his words.

He smirked again and let go of your arms, sliding his warm hands under your shirt instead until reaching your breasts. Your breath quivered and you straightened your back, letting your head fall as he cupped them, squeezing their softness harshly until you gasped.

And then he became the one to rise and connect his teeth to your neck after discarding your upper garment with an aggressive pull.

You closed your eyes - mind imagining just how badly your Ravenclaw bed was going to creak in a moment when the two of you made contact with the ancient bedframe - Doyoung reaching the swell of your breasts with the tip of his tongue.

You felt your bra slowly descending off your torso as well. Doyoung grabbed it roughly and threw it somewhere in the room as if unable to wait a single moment. Just as roughly, he pulled you down on top of him and pushed your pyjama bottoms off your ass in one fatal swoop.

"Come here," he murmured, tongue slightly poking out of his mouth; the thought of you sitting on top of that making shivers travel all across your body. Your chest was pressed on his but the fabric of his shirt bothered you too much, so hungry to feel his skin instead.

So you leaned down and took his tongue inside your mouth, dancing with it and making him taste yours whilst your fingers gathered his top until feeling his abdomen and pecs defined, beneath the shirt. Then you forced it off, ruffling his fluffy dark hair playfully, before finally biting into his neck just as you had been dying to do. He chuckled, his throat moving accordingly to the vibrations of his deep voice but it soon transformed into an airy panting as you moved the biting down across his collarbones; placing wet kisses all across his chest, flicking his nipples and biting on the soft skin of his abs. Doyoung gulped when you reached the most prominent veins of his navel and you smiled, tracing one with the tip of your tongue until reaching the waistband of his boxers.

"Ah shit, just-," he choked. You froze; keeping your hot breath close to his twitching cock just to make him gasp.

You didn't go any further though and just smiled, putting on a short show for him, namely taking off your bottoms and underwear before sitting on top of his legs again.

He admired you from underneath his hooded eyelids, but before you could tease him as you intended to, he flicked his wrist and your body moved the other way accompanied by your high pitched yelp.

"Doyoung!" You leaned forward to steady yourself, as your ass was already being kneaded by his impatient hands.

He chuckled once and pulled you by the waist until you could feel his breath between your legs.

"Be a good girl," he murmured and dove in, the movement of his tongue around your clit making you moan too loudly for the university campus.

"We need--to soundproof--the room-" you tried to speak with a broken voice as Doyoung spread you out with his hands, fingers pressed into the softness of your ass.

"You can be silent with my cock inside that mouth."

Mind clouded as you moved your hips to ride his tongue, you almost forgot about Doyoung's painfully hard cock poking out of his boxers.

So you leaned down, trying to keep your moans as silent as possible and watched it spring out of the underwear on the lower stomach. Doyoung's hiss didn't go unnoticed by your ears as you pumped it, so you eagerly licked a strip up on it and felt his slight shudder. The you let out a trail of saliva past your lips and you watched it coat his tip.

"Shit," he breathed on your clit as you pursed your lips on it and when you actually took it inside your wet mouth, hand working the base, his fingers pulled you even lower on his face.

You moaned as his tongue fucked inside of you quickly, the vibrations of your throat causing him to get even more eager. With your cheeks sucked in to take as much as you could and one hand held steady to work the rest, you bobbed your head quickly, matching his pace. Then you finally took it all in until you felt it inside your throat, making him groan as he moved his hips upwards for more. You gasped for air as you let his cock slide out, glistening with your saliva, and you pumped it with your fist, moaning a second time when you felt Doyoung's fingers stretching you out.

It was already too much. Your mind was hazy and your muscles aching. And when you felt another finger being added, making you squeeze your thighs together and curl your toes, your own fingers never letting his cock go, you moaned loudly.

"Shh," He warned you, amused at you getting louder and louder as your orgasm approached. So you leaned down again, forehead resting on his thigh for a moment before starting to resume sucking on his cock again.

Doyoung's legs twitched imperceptibly at your sudden touch and the movement of his tongue, back on your clit, got too erratic, showing you how close he was himself.

"Babe, ah--fuck," he mumbled with broken breaths, his fingers digging into your sides, until he thrust inside your mouth a few times uncontrollaby and then went limp moments before you could feel his seed shoot on your tongue. You kept still as much as you could before letting it out, slowly working the length as it sprouted a few times on your breasts as well, descending on your nipples and his abdomen.

Doyoung groaned a few more times and right after you finished swallowing you arched your back, his mouth sucking on you so needily as if he was still trying to reach his own high.

Your nails dug into his thighs and your hips started to move on their own on his face, riding his tongue and trying to keep as quiet as possible.

"Cumming!" you mumbled, mind hazy and muscles aching.

Doyoung hummed pleased and didn't stop even when you started to uncontrollably shake in his hold, fucking you through your orgasm until you had to beg him to stop.

__________

“What were you doing when this happened?”

The man stated in a monotone voice, in full concentration as he was staring at his device connected to Doyoung’s room. He was standing in the middle of it, the only spot without any burnt patches or open flames.

The latter's mind went to last night, the feeling of his cock inside his desperate palm as the image of your mouth roamed his imagination; so he let out a short “heh” before clearing his throat.

“So I was in bed.”

“With someone?” The man mumbled.

“Alone.” Doyoung replied.

And it wasn’t a lie. He came inside your mouth that day and when he got to his room again all he could think of was cumming inside of it again.

The man didn't reply for a moment.

“And you said that it was as if an explosion happened that made your whole room catch fire?”

“Yep.” Doyoung slid his hands in the sweatpants pockets, fighting the urge to swing back and forth on his heels.

“Well, the room is not malfunctioning or anything. I just think your emotions were too strong."

The man raised his eyes to stare at Doyoung’s face. “Whatever they were," he added.

The lack of emotions on the dude’s face was making things even more awkward.

“Uhm yeah, I think I was having a nightmare or something…” Doyoung scratched the back of his head.

The man hummed and with one last click, he sighed and twisted his wrist once. Doyoung inhaled relieved to see his burnt walls turn to their original state. He had never experienced a rub so good it made his room burn like hell itself before.

“Thank you, sir," Doyoung addressed the man that was already walking towards the door.

“Next time this happens-” The stiff man said, turning around once, feet in the corridor, “-just imagine water or something.”

“And what if my room gets flooded?”

The man straightened his jacket with a short tug. “Well, just don’t jack off then.”

With a little smile, Doyoung was ready to see him off and hide under the covers.

__________

“What do you mean by an explosion?”

You leaned closer to Doyoung, who was sitting across the table from you in the study room, to hear his whispers better.

“Like a real ka-boom?” A curious voice asked as well.

Doyoung and you both turned your heads towards Haechan, standing and resting with his elbows on the desk as close to you as possible.

“This is a private conversation!” You gently whisper-yelled, pushing Haechan back.

"I'm just curious to know more about the rooms!” He whined, straightening his back.

“Well, didn’t you feel it?” Doyoung’s words were directed towards you and you gulped, remembering the sensation you felt the previous night.

It did feel like an explosion inside your whole body. If that was what your connection was going to feel like in the future, you were surely going to lose your mind with each orgasm.

“Of course I did! But my room didn’t catch fire.”

Doyoung’s adam apple travelled up and down in his throat. “Lee. Can you please just fuck off for a second?”

Haechan, face almost touching Doyoung’s one, opened his palms and took a few steps back again.

“I think,” you waited a moment, eyes darting around as if trying to gather more courage, “it happened because I was doing it too.”

Doyoung’s jaw fell open and Haechan whistled.

“Well, shit. If I blow up my room while I think of my cute girlfriend then what’s going to happen when I actually fuck my cute girlfriend?”

You bit your lower lip, trying to not giggle at his words but it was impossible.

Doyoung's gaze caressed your face and his expression relaxed into a smile.

“You like that? Me calling you my girlfriend?” He touched your hand and you intertwined your fingers soon after.

“Uhm, guys, I think you should take this to the bedroom now...” Haechan trailed off, seeing you imperceptibly lean into each other.

“Maybe we should just not masturbate at the same time,” you whispered.

“Maybe we should just blow up the entire university.” Doyoung whispered back, before your lips inevitably clashed together making Haechan groan and a few other nosey people in the vicinity look away too.

__________

It was a sunny day and the grass outside never felt softer as you sat down crossed legged. Doyoung’s hand was still intertwined with yours and you giggled when instead of letting it go as you tugged away, he just pulled you towards himself.

“I just can’t get enough of you,” his breath caressed your lips. The kiss was slow and soft and you melted in his arms.

You hummed teasingly then watched as Doyoung indicated towards you and a sandwich gently breezed inside your hand from the basket he carried.

“Stop boasting your object moving skills,” you smiled before taking a bite. Your knees touched as he sat down as well and he smirked seeing your uniform skirt slide up your thigh a bit.

“My room still reflects my mood even when I’m outside of it,” he continued as you munched on the food. “Perhaps I should keep the distance.”

“Can’t you just turn it off?”

Doyoung snickered. “Yeah. I’m on my way to ask the principal to turn off my room because I want to have mad sex and I end up destroying it.”

You tilted your head to the side as if thinking for a moment. Then you noticed Doyoung’s gaze.

“What?”

“That turned you on just now,” he smiled.

You gulped. “No.”

He sighed knowingly. “Yes.”

You exchanged a look.

“Can you feel it?”

“Can you not?”

“I thought it was just my feeling. Is this you being horny right now?”

“I think it’s both mixed.”

“You said that I would only know when you orgasm.”

“Well, that’s what I thought too.”

You both stared at each other for a moment as if doomed.

Then Doyoung’s eyes twinkled and the heat inside of your gut intensified.

“Doyoung! Stop it.”

“Hmm, can you resist this though?” he leaned in like a snake trying to catch your lips.

“We’re outside,” you whispered, placing your hands on his chest.

“We’re hidden. No one’s looking.”

The burning sensation inside your gut intensified even more and when you felt completely wet Doyoung exhaled.

"Oh, I know," he whispered on your lips when you tried to tell him. "I think--," he licked his lower lip, looking at you twitching in front of him. "I can make you cum with only my words."

You whined closing your eyes and trying to calm your quick breath whilst your hands grabbed fistfuls of his shirt.

"Please, this is torture."

You squeezed your legs together and Doyoung was quick to slide one hand between them just enough to keep them apart, kneading the soft flesh in the meantime.

His lips brushed yours and you let go, diving in desperately, sucking on his tongue as if only that alone could make you go over the edge. His hums were deep and rough and you wondered how he managed to keep it together.

"Hold tight," he ordered and you gasped, unable to breathe for a moment before blinking hard and seeing new trees adorning Doyoung's figure.

"Wait," you furrowed your eyebrows. He smiled hovering on top of you. The breeze felt different and there were no more screaming students in the background.

Then you realized.

"Is this your room?" you tried to look around above his shoulder.

The green moss under your back was soft to the touch and the campus surely didn't have any waterfalls like the one shining under the setting sun.

"Doyoung, did you really just transport us in your room as if it was nothing?"

"Perks of being a Prefect," his soft breath caressed your ear as he outlined it with his lips.

"I’m a Prefect too but I can't do this!"

"Then, perks of being a horny Slytherin," he chuckled and you felt his tongue gently drawing patterns on your neck. The breath you took in was sharky and you tightened your hold around his torso, pulling him towards you even more with your legs.

"Just fuck me already," you whined and Doyoung was quick to unzip his pants, pupils so big that you could see your own reflection in his eyes.

"I think this is going to be very quick," he grunted, pushing your panties to the side and pressing his tip into your clit.

You threw your head back and opened your mouth in a soundless moan, choking when he pushed inside slowly.

"I don't need much either," you managed to speak before you both started to pant in unison. Your fingers got tangled in his luscious hair, wrapping his neck with your arms and lungs filled with his scent. Your mouths were open against each other as if starved and you wondered why it took you so long to fuck again.

The moans were quick to invade the room and when your body started to shift back and forth under his weight, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them down around your head.

Doyoung kissed you once and bit on your lower lip, stretching it out as his hips slowed down, making you feel every inch so very well.

“I can feel the way you like it when I’m like this,” he murmured amused.

You inhaled deeply as he hit it hard a few times then slowed down again. The waterfall burst in sync and you felt a few drops of water on your skin.

“And I guess you can also feel the way you’re torturing me right now,” you breathed out, clenching around him as if begging for release.

“Yeah,” he outlined your lips with the tip of his tongue, “and it’s so fun.”

Your hips moved upwards, needing more and he chuckled once, lifting himself on the knees and lifting one of your legs to his shoulder.

“I think I need some magical words now, baby.”

You tried to roll your eyes to the side and move your arms but he clicked his tongue and you realized the amount of control he had on you.

“I can’t believe you’re balls deep inside of me and still have the strength to keep my wrists down with magic.”

“Oh, you want me to lose control?”

You looked around the room, or better, the dark green forest, and imagined it on fire but your lucid thoughts lost any meaning the moment Doyoung started to move again, the sound of his hips hitting the underside of your thighs becoming too overwhelming. Your spinning head got you whining and moaning his name, again and again, each time louder until he actually lost control and your fingers were free for you to dig them into his chest, palming his stomach and going up to reach his face. He kissed your fingertips leaning down again as you started to twitch in his hold.

“Shit,” he cursed through his teeth, your approaching orgasm making him unable to distinguish between his one and yours.

You gasped, lips forming the words and he grunted. “I know, baby, I know.”

And when it came crashing down on you, it felt so right yet so terrifying that you thought you were about to pass out.

The waterfall moved its course right above you and you screamed while Doyoung laughed loudly, his hair getting all wet and dripping above you.

You tried to open your eyes, passing your hands on your face.

“We’re all wet now!”

“You were wet way before this,” he chuckled, his cool skin so smooth to the touch that you pulled him down until he was able to rest his face on your chest.

He wrapped your torso with his arms, caging you under his weight and you sighed relieved, still dizzy from the mind-blowing experience.

"I can't believe this just happened."

You looked up at the calm waterfall and its pink water that reflected the sunset. A few birds you didn't notice before were chirping.

“Can you get rid of my clothes without touching me?” you wondered.

Doyoung chuckled and his breath warmed your bosom.

“Yes.”

You gasped. “Who have you been practising with?”

He lifted his head to rest his chin on you. “It’s second-year magic.”

“They don’t teach us to undress people.”

“They teach us to move stuff. I can move it from your body to the floor. Same thing.”

“Then do it. Wet clothes feel aw-” you tried to complete the sentence but didn’t manage to as you suddenly felt his wet body on yours instead of the fabric.

“What are we? Like Adam and Eve?” you laughed at the image of you both naked and lying on a patch of moss.

He kissed your lips slowly. “Perhaps we were. Like in a past life or something.”

You hummed, pushing his dripping hair back. “So the room it’s better flooded than burnt?”

“The soil will absorb everything so when I'll turn it back, abracadabra, no water left.”

“Why are you so smart?” you smiled.

“Actually, I dropped out of the top 10.”

Your smile died.

“What?”

“You too.”

“What?!”

__________

“Oh shit.”

You were standing in the corridor, one hand on your mouth and eyes wide looking at that month’s academic ranking sheet.

“How is this possible?” you asked Doyoung who sighed near you.

"I thought you were aware."

“Well, when was the last time you folks handed in homework?” Haechan stopped by, head shaking like a disappointed parent. You both turned your heads towards him.

“We’ve been-” you started to speak but drifted off, unsure on how to continue.

“Busy,” Doyoung concluded with a nod.

“Oh yeah,” Haechan eyed Doyoung’s bright hickey on the side of the neck. “I can see that. Keep up the good work then,” he patted both of your shoulders. "Also, you have leaves in your hair."

It was your turn to sigh. Doyoung reached the top of your head and retrieved a small leaf.

“I think we need to schedule our meetings-” you started but Doyoung interrupted you, alarmed.

“What? No way!”

You crossed your arms on your chest and faced your boyfriend.

“We’re not going to graduate if we keep fucking all day.”

And Kim Doyoung actually pouted. “I don’t care.”

“You’ve been fighting for first place all of this time!”

“It’s because I was trying to win over you. Now it’s not important, is it? Because you're mine."

You had to close your eyes to gather your shit.

“Doyoung, our future-”

“My future is you.”

“Oh my God, stop being cringy for a second."

He hummed amused and pulled you towards his chest. You reluctantly let him do it and wrapped his torso. He smelled like forest and well - like Doyoung.

“We can study and fuck,” he murmured in the crook of your neck.

“What are you? A bunny?”

“We can study together,” he looked at you as you lifted your gaze on his face.

“You already know how bad of an idea that is, Doyoung.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Okay. Knowing you, there's already a plan."

You let him go and lifted one finger as you started to announce the rules. “We can meet once a day.”

“Oh my God," he rubbed his forehead.

“When we meet, we can fuck only if we’ve already finished our assignments,” you added a second finger.

Doyoung passed one hand through his hair annoyed. “Alright.”

“Three. If you try some weird shit while I’m busy, I’ll beat your ass.”

He smirked.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes. You’ll beat my ass. Understood.”

“You don’t want that,” you warned him.

“I absolutely do not want that,” he kissed your lips once.

__________

Doyoung turned around and around.

His bed felt cold and uncomfortable that night and everything he desired was having you warm it up. He thought he loved studying but while working on his homework he realized that he has been in love with you instead all of that time.

The wall clock ticked slowly until Doyoung groaned and broke it with a twist of his wrist. Then he hated the way it looked on his wall so he sent it flying out of the window.

With a grunt, he rolled over and tried to find his phone.

From DY: you up?

From You: yes, studying. as you should

From DY: hmmm

You sighed looking up at the screen for a second more before putting it away.

Then you suddenly froze, hand in the air and your panties absolutely soaked.

“Kim Doyoung. I swear I’ll-,” you’ve never called someone as quickly as him at that moment and you hated the way you squeezed your thighs together at the sound of his sleepy voice.

“Yes?”

“Doyoung.”

“Yeah.”

You exhaled. “I’m mad at you.”

“Hot,” he chuckled.

“Stop whatever you’re doing right now.”

“Hmm, can’t,” he gulped and his shifting on the bed synced with the feeling inside of your stomach.

“I have a test tomorrow!”

“I can teach you if you come over,” he murmured.

“I can teach myself very well if-”

“If you didn’t have your mind so clouded right now?”

You started to pant lightly and you closed your eyes.

“I’m just minding my own business,” he teased you. “Turn off the phone.”

The grip on your desk went unnoticed to you until you started to lightly shake, the wet sound of his fist working himself paired with his deep and lazy voice too tempting for you to actually put the phone away.

“Doyoung. We talked about it. Rule number three. I’ll beat your ass.”

“Come over and do it then.”

You sighed annoyed and let the silence fill the space for a while.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “Just a moment. Touch yourself.”

“You’re going to burn the room,” you tried to joke, ignoring the way your hand slowly descended between your legs. Perhaps he wouldn’t notice.

But he sighed once and his breath got louder. “Good girl,” he praised you.

You closed your eyes and bit your lower lip, listening to Doyoung’s sounds and adding some whines of your own to the orchestra.

“Can’t you really come over? This is driving me insane,” he groaned.

“If I come over, you’ll keep me occupied all night.”

Doyoung chuckled once then swore silently as you slid a finger inside of yourself, pumping quickly until the wet sounds reached his ears.

“I bet it doesn’t feel as good as my fingers.”

The chair you were sat on fell to the ground with a loud bang as you stood up and leaned on the desk. Your arm was trembling so you bent it, resting on your forearm instead, forehead pressed hard on it as your fingers were indeed too short to give you the pleasure you were seeking.

“Oh babe, you’re doing such a mess over there,” he had the audacity to snicker but then his voice died in a choke as you started to moan his name like a mantra, over and over. He surely could feel the way the heat growing inside your limbs were making you curl your toes and bite on your own skin.

“Are you going to cum with me?” you mewled and Doyoung just about lost his mind. His panting filled the phone speaker and as you reached your orgasm, lulled by his swearing, his moans got engulfed by loud thuds.

“Doyoung?” you tried to reach the phone with a trembling hand but the beep replaced his voice.

__________

“This is very embarrassing,” he whispered to himself.

You were both standing in his room, arms crossed on the respective chests and eyes trying to make sense of what you were looking at.

You ran as quickly as lightning towards the Slytherin rooms, worried out of your own mind, just to see Doyoung sat on a gigantic rock instead of his bed.

“What happened?” you walked towards him before tripping on the unstable floor.

“Oh, careful!” he slid down and caught you in his arms before you could get yourself a free rhinoplasty.

“Are you okay?” you asked him and his red cheeks told you that he was absolutely fine and actually still high as fuck from the mindblowing rub.

He chuckled. “We’re in a cave!”

You rolled your eyes and pushed his chest away. “You scared the shit out of me. Rocks started to fall down? What the hell happened?"

He sighed, looking around. “The walls and ceiling started to disintegrate.”

“This makes absolutely no sense. I don’t believe there’s no other Slytherin with your problems. One can not have control over this. This is so much responsibility. How is this safe for school? I will go and ask-”

“Hey, hey, Y/N, shh,” he cupped your face and smiled. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not! You burn then you get hit with rocks. And for what? Because you’re horny. I’m worried but I’m also mad!” you replied but him squishing your cheeks didn’t make your discourse aggressive at all. Doyoung smiled again and gave you a peck on your duck lips.

“At least you’re in my room now.”

“I’m not! I’m in a cave.”

“I learned the spell,” he announced and took a step back like one of those muggle magicians with hats full of bunnies. “What bedding colour do we want tonight, Miss?”

“We? I’m going back to my normal room to study.”

Doyoung pouted. “Ah, come on. Just sleep with me. What if scary wolves start appearing from the walls this time? Or a tornado? Even worse, your father to beat my ass?”

“You’re insufferable. Also you wouldn’t want my father to see me sleeping with you, would you?”

He chuckled delightedly as a child and with both wrists and a little wince of effort he turned his room back to normal.

You inhaled and exhaled deeply as he let himself fall on the bed, patting the side of it for you to join him.

“I’ve never been as empty as now. That nut almost killed me so I just want to sleep. Please.”

You sighed again and moved towards him. “Okay. But this is the last time.”

_________

It wasn’t the last time.

You tried to avoid Doyoung as much as possible for your own sanity and your academic well-being. And his actual survival. But it was impossibile to not bump into his firm chest at every corner.

“Doyoung! Leave me alone!” you would announce from far away as he would walk down the corridor. “I know you have a test in ten minutes. We don’t have time for this.”

“Just a single kiss,” he gave you The Eyes.

Kim Doyoung, the Slytherin Prefect? Scary, intimidating, domineering.

Kim Doyoung, your boyfriend? Clingy, soft, a complete fool.

And you adored him.

His friend laughed and walked away, leaving Doyoung behind to bother you further.

“A hug?” he tried again as you shook your head.

“Okay, okay. A handshake,” he smiled and you rolled your eyes amused, extending your hand.

Doyoung grabbed it and kissed your knuckles slowly, then gently kissed one of your fingertips, his dark eyes not letting your figure go for a moment. Your pupils shook as he would kiss another fingertip, then another, and before you could realize you were in his arms, mouths on each other, his body pressing into yours and pushing you towards the first classroom available.

“Doyoung. Rule number 2,” your voice was a tiny choked breath.

“I don’t care.”

“What if someone’s going to see?” you whispered alarmed as he lifted you with a thud on the professor’s desk.

“Let them watch. Are you up to give them a hot show?”

“Stop joking! We can be expelled!”

“You won’t care about that in a second,” he announced, falling on his knees and pushing your panties to the side.

You inhaled sharply and slid your fingers into his hair, mouth open in a silent moan as Doyoung’s tongue actually made you forget whatever concern you had.

“Doyoung, I said, you have a test,” you mumbled, fingers gripping his hair and pulling.

He stood up, hands placed on each side of you and his gaze made you immediately regret your tone.

“Is this how you talk to me?” he lifted one eyebrow.

“Is your little Slytherin ego hurt?” you tried to imitate him but failed as he pulled you down from the desk and turned you around.

“I see that you miss our fights,” he growled inside your ear before bending you over.

The first slap to your ass made you bite your lower lip. The second made you moan and the third got your panties even wetter than before.

“If you’re going to whine so much about it then you just deserve to not cum at all.”

“You are not leaving me here like this now,” you warned him, hearing him fumbling behind you.

“Hmm, and if I do?”

“I will edge myself until you burst yourself.”

“Let’s see,” he took a step back and dusted his jacket, ready to leave.

You let out a whine of protest.

"What?"

You wiggled your butt. "Come on."

Doyoung raked your skirt up again slowly.

"Come on, what?"

It was a long and cruel battle and you secretly enjoyed every bit of it. He waited for you to talk again, running his fingers all over your ass as if bored but his thoughts were not hidden to your gut.

You tried to turn around but his palms pinned you down again with a soft thud.

You turned your wrists and he let out a surprised chuckle, quick to shield it.

"Is this a Defense against the dark arts class?"

You smiled. "Yes. You're the dark arts."

He hummed and got closer until you felt the fabric of his pants brush against the underside of your nude thighs. And when he raked his hand through your hair you moaned, letting him open your lips with his tongue as you arched your back.

It was a slow and sinful kiss, and you melted into it as he fucked your mouth with his.

You were both panting when he broke it off and turned you around. Quick to hook your legs around his waist, you kissed again as if for the first time.

You pushed his hair back and he tugged at your lower lip with his teeth. He ran his tongue along with it and you dove in again, sucking on it. Nails digging and palms pressing on the desk loudly, you begged him without words as he breathed heavily into your neck.

Shifting and rocking together, murmuring incoherently, you set his room on fire for the second time.

__________

“I’m calm today. It’s fine,” Doyoung looked at you with wide innocent eyes.

You were both sitting on his room’s fluffy rug (“Do you like the green? I made it appear only for you”), your books all scattered around you and your nerves thin, expecting your boyfriend to jump on you anytime now.

The lighting in his room as he was rearranging your guts just days before attracted half of the Slytherin people to the door. Doyoung had some explaining to do as soon as he got back, shirt out of his pants and swollen lips.

"Are you perhaps going through a rough time?" the gentle Nurse that came to assist eventual injuries asked, timidly entering the smoky room. "You know you can talk to me whenever. Your father and I-,"

"Oh no, Ma'am. I'm doing well actually," Doyoung was quick to interrupt her after dismissing all kids polluting the corridor.

"This happens when one's mad though."

He chuckled once. "I am definitely not mad. I'm--happy actually," Doyoung explained and coughed a few times, hand swatting around his face. It would take him more than a few wrists turns to make his room look decent again.

"Doyoung-,"

"Ma'am, I have a girlfriend."

She blinked at him then suddenly blushed.

"Oh!" she then smiled. "Oh. Well," she took a napkin out of her coat and gently patted her neck. "I know married couples that never managed to change the colour of the lights. Imagine turning it on fire," she laughed slowly and Doyoung hummed, hand resting on the debris of his bed, waiting for her to finally leave.

"I'll send your father a letter to congratulate myself for the nice couple-,”

"Oh no no no no" he sprinted in front of her, hands on both of her shoulders. "My father would surely appreciate it but he's-uh- currently- hm- out of the country."

Her eyes twinkled with malice. "Then you'll have to be cute with your girlfriend for a while and keep your room intact."

“I swear. I’m cute. Just a calm studying date. Promise,” he actually lifted his pinky and you smiled, wrapping it with yours and touching thumbs.

Then you sighed turning your computer on.

“I’m glad. I missed our fluffy moments and I can’t believe the actual Nurse threatened you- Doyoung!” you interrupted yourself as you eyed his hand on your ankle.

“I’m not doing anything,” he blinked at you. You hummed as a warning.

“Come on. You would have felt it.”

You narrowed your eyes at him and resumed your fumbling. He didn't look away though and you could actually see his movements in your peripheral vision.

"Doyoung."

"What? I'm just getting comfortable."

"Leaning towards me?"

"Oh, come on. I missed you," he got as close as to touch shoulders with you and place a hand on your thigh.

"Had no idea Slytherins were so cuddly," you looked at it, worried.

"Hm? Is this-," he squeezed your leg, "making you feel some type of way?"

You pursed your lips. "Not at all."

"Not at all you say?" his voice was getting dangerously lower as he started to play with the hem.

"Doyoung, the studying-," you tried to speak but he placed a single kiss on your jaw, interrupting you.

"The what?" he murmured.

You gulped. "We-,"

"Go on," he kissed your neck, stealing a real moan from your chest.

He chuckled. "So easy."

“Okay, you know what? That’s it. You deserve to be punished,” you announced, grabbing his green Slytherin tie and pulling it towards you. Doyoung exhaled and almost lost his balance, his eyes wide open at your actions.

“What are you doing?” he stared at your hand.

You ignored him. “Hmm, let’s see. What safeword should we use?” you wondered, deep in thoughts.

“Eh? Safeword?”

“What about ‘green’?”

“What about it?”

“Say it when it’s too much, honey,” you explained and got up, starting to walk and dragging your boyfriend by the tie. He followed you quickly towards the bed, almost tripping on his feet, and he let you push him roughly on it.

It’s not that he didn’t have any strength, but he was so shocked that he couldn’t move a single limb.

“You know what Ravenclaws are good at?”

He shook his head.

“Wit, originality and winning,” you recited, lifting his chin with your nail.

“You’re also good at sucking cock,” he murmured, the little smile blooming on his lips showing his senses coming back to his body.

You tsked and slid his tie off his shirt making his hiss at the harsh movement. Then you touched each button on that shirt and they fell to his lap, slowly exposing his collarbones and chest.

Doyoung kept his eyes on you like two dark fires and you knew he was waiting for you to hesitate for a single moment so he could attack instead.

“Can I play too or is this a one-sided fight?” he wondered, leaning down on his elbows, his tongue slowly wetting his lips. His bed was a dark green velvet this time and his figure on it made your mouth water.

“Go ahead,” you replied.

He hummed lazily and looked at you as if unsure of what to do first.

Then your buttons popped too.

All of them and at the same time.

You closed your eyes briefly at the sound and breathed out shakily.

“Really? Copying me?”

Doyoung shrugged and indicated to you that it was your turn.

So you put on a brave smirk and walked towards him slowly, letting your uniform shirt fall on the ground at his feet. T

hen you climbed on his lap.

He followed your movements and you were pleased to see the little breaths coming out of his open lips as you leaned down as if to kiss him but twisted your wrists instead.

His arms moved towards you and unsupported, his back hit the mattress.

Doyoung chuckled once but the smile disappeared as his tie slowly wrapped his hands like a snake.

“Babe?”

“I’ve been honing my skills too,” you explained and got off him right at the same moment his body slid quickly on the sheets until meeting the bed board with a soft thud.

He groaned once, trying to move his arms but they didn’t budge, tightly secured above his head.

You giggled and straddled his thighs again, palming his nude stomach in the meantime.

“Hmm, what should I do with you now?” you wondered.

Doyoung bit his lower lip and whispered a spell. Your bra slid down your arms and you pouted.

“Poor baby. With your wrists tied like that you can’t do mental spells? This is all you can do now?” you discarded the item of clothing to the side. "Hmm, not even horny Slytherins can perform magic with tied arms, can they?”

He let his head fall down on the pillow, the annoyed smile adorning his pretty face making you weak in the knees.

“I don’t need magic to get you begging,” he retorted, his dark gaze adding to the discourse.

“Alright,” you gave it to him with a shrug. “But what are you going to do when I do this-” you slid your fingers between your legs, “and you can only watch?” you finished right when your fingertips touched your wet clit.

You inhaled at the sensation and Doyoung swore silently, his arms tugging at the restraints. The moans escaping your lips were little and soft as you went gently on yourself and you didn’t need any Slytherin connection to know what the view of you half-naked on top of Doyoung did to him.

“Take your skirt off too,” he murmured, eyes trained on your hand hidden by the fabric.

“Mmm, I don’t think you’re in a position to give orders now,” you replied but did as he suggested, slowly unzipping the skirt on your hip. Then you moved to the side and slid it off your legs. When you tried to get your panties off too, you huffed feeling them move on your thighs by themselves.

“You’re going to lose all of your strength with your little tricks,” you turned your head to face him.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? To have me all weak for you to play with me?”

The dying lights in his room were flickering on his skin and with his black strands of hair on the white pillows and his open shirt, he looked like some sort of powerful count.

No, he didn’t look weak to you at all.

“Okay, stop playing along now,” you returned on his thighs and sat on his hard cock.

He bit his lower lip at the sensation and lifted his hip a few times to make you bounce on it.

“I am not,” he turned his head to the side, teasingly, like a little bird.

“You’re enjoying yourself right now," you whispered.

Doyoung took in the sight of you slowly grinding on his pants and breathed out. “Damn right I am. You wanted me to suffer?”

“Yes.”

Your fingers softly pressed on his chest as you moved on top of him, his dress pants luscious on your skin.

"I'm going to cum all over you then leave you like this. What do you think?"

"Oh, so this is all about revenge."

You didn't reply and closed your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation. Doyoung's abs kept twitching under your fingertips as you tried to reach your high and edging him at the same time.

You really wondered how long he would last without begging and just imagining his pretty lips forming those pleas just added to the overwhelming sensation inside of you.

"There's no risk of you destroying this room again and it's also an opportunity for you to learn a lesson," you tried to sound coherent but his dark smirk made you stutter.

"Yeah," his voice was husky and you gulped. "You look so pretty like this, desperately riding my cock." His eyes danced on your bouncing breasts and for a moment you realized that you were not winning at all.

You were losing so badly that you didn't have enough strength to keep his hands tied anymore. You fell onto his chest, so close to climax that your head got full of static. Dizzy and whimpering, mouth open on his, breathing his air and rolling your hips, you cried out, legs shaking and muscles twitching, loving the way defeat tasted like.

__________

Doyoung was sitting in front of you during the Debate class both of your houses shared. It has been weeks since you didn’t actually debate with him and the hours went on very boringly.

“Since you’ve both been, you know,” Haechan did an obscene gesture with his hands so you lightly slapped them down from the professor’s eyes, “the class lost its spark. Not gonna lie.”

You smiled a bit and resumed your previous position, chin on the palm of your hand and eyes on Doyoung’s shoulders.

“He’s saying smart things lately. Nothing to add to it.”

“He was saying smart things before as well. You were just blinded by hatred. And now you’re blinded by love.”

You sighed, watching the way the warm rays of sun danced on your boyfriend’s skin.

Then you straightened your back.

Haechan blinked at your sudden reaction and waited for you to say something.

“I have an idea on how to make the class funny again.” Your eyes twinkled with malice and Haechan made a face.

“Hmm. Sounds like a bad idea.”

You ignored him and bit your lower lip, eyes piercing Doyoung’s back, not moving even when Haechan waved his hand in front of your face.

“Are you trying to bewitch him or something?”

“Or something,” you murmured.

And to Haechan’s surprise Doyoung actually jolted in his seat. It went unnoticed to others but it was obvious to whom stared.

And you were staring.

“What did you do?” Haechan inquiried, eyes darting from you to him and back to you.

You hummed amused and waited a few more moments.

Doyoung leaned back in his seat and exhaled.

“What’s going on?” Haechan whispered again.

“I’m thinking of him eating me out.”

“What??” Your friend asked too loudly, making a few people turn around.

Doyoung also turned and his gaze could have made you get up and run away if you weren’t in class.

Careful, it was saying but unfortunately it just added to the sensation in both of your bodies, making him close his eyes for a second.

Then you gasped as well.

Haechan got the gist of it and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Yall nasty.”

_________

"Where do you think you're going?"

Doyoung pressed his palm on the wall behind you, caging you with his arms soon after.

"Hey, boo," you smiled nonchalantly.

He narrowed his eyes at you, the hand near your face moving to trace your cheekbone then jaw. It stopped on your lower lip, his thumb dragging it a bit, slowly touching your skin.

"So you want war," he murmured. “Refusing me, then fucking yourself on me. Now, thinking who knows what dirty things in class just to get me all worked up. What’s up with the rules you made?”

Your throat twitched as you gulped, his palm now hovering over the softness of it.

The little whine that came out of your lips made Doyoung smirk, but then he straightened his back and took a few steps back.

Touch me touch me touch me touch me

"Let there be war," he loosened up his tie and turned around, the sound of his shoes clicking on the shiny corridor pavement poignant as your heartbeat.

__________

It was late and the night was darker than usual.

You came back from your last exam of the semester and you were fuming. Dizzy and unable to concentrate on the paper, you could only think of Doyoung’s long and slender fingers slowly pumping inside of you.

Fuck.

You could almost see his annoying smirk, somewhere on campus, getting himself horny just to get you horny too. And when you thought he’d let you rest for the day while untying the knot of your robe, ready to slip under the covers, you felt a weird sensation vibrating through your body.

Looking down, you noticed your pyjama move as if an invisible wind haunted your room. It gently nudged you towards the door and you tried to resist for a second. Then the sudden burst of heat inside your core made you inhale sharply.

“Fuck,” you mumbled and grabbed your robe, trying to wear it again to not show the entire campus your thin nightgown.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you whispered to no one, feeling your feet being dragged on the pavement. Like a Russian ballet dancer, you slid across the corridors and hoped no one would see you as you secretly exited the Ravenclaw chambers.

“Just--a moment!” you whispered again, hands grabbing the side of the door to see if the outside corridor was empty.

The pull stopped for a second but then it got impatient and you rolled your eyes, letting it move you around the university like a ghost.

When you noticed the open Slytherin doors you sighed, the sensation inside your guts growing at an alarming speed, almost as quickly as the pull Doyoung applied to your body.

And when you entered his room, the lecturing you wanted to give your horny boyfriend died in your throat.

“Woah, Doyoung,” you looked around.

The young man was resting on the bed, one hand to support his head. “Hi, baby.”

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered, the moss under your feet caressing your skin as the dark, angry sky, illuminated by lightning, danced on your figure. “But are you perhaps mad?”

At the same moment, a loud thunder made you close your eyes and Doyoung pulled you on the bed. You yelped as you landed on it and he wrapped your body with his arms.

“I just want you on top of me, let's test this fucking room to its fullest capacity,” he whispered. His voice was low and it made your hairs rise.

“Are you sure you’re not mad?” you tried to ask but he shut you up with his mouth in a deep kiss. You whined and placed your hands on the pillow around his head, tugging lightly at his hair spread on it. Doyoung gathered your silky nightgown on your thighs until reaching the hot skin underneath it and when he slapped your ass you bit his lower lip.

"Of course I'm mad. I'm so mad at you that I might use that cute idea of the safe word of yours."

“You’re mad? I should be mad! I barely got the exam right while you were probably rubbing one out!”

He hummed, pleased. “So we’re both mad. What should we do with all of this energy?”

You wanted to roll your eyes but he spoke again. “Oh. I think I have an idea.”

“You could have called. I was floating through the campus almost naked.” Doyoung looked down at the way your nipples poked through your thin nightgown and in a second you were on your side, Doyoung’s hair tickling your neck as his lips kissed your chest. He places warm and soft kissed all over it until reaching the hard nubs. You whined silently and wrapped his head with your arms, fingers slowly gripping his firm shoulders. He was about to slide his hand on your stomach too, dancing on your inner thigh when you opened your eyes and gasped loudly.

He chuckled.

"Look up," he whispered.

At the same moment, new lights burst in the room and the walls disappeared.

You were on a hill, tall grass gently waved as you stood on your feet. Above you, the moon looked huge and the stars flickered like a symphony. The horizon was infinite and you felt grounded yet as if about to fall.

"What is this?" you giggled.

Doyoung reached behind his back and you noticed that he was sitting on a white blanket in the middle of the field instead of the bed. A few light brown rabbits hopped around and he gave them a cracker.

"A date," he replied.

You laughed again and got closer, slowly descending on your knees in front of him.

"A date,” you repeated. “I might even kiss you."

"Bet you will do even more after a glass of this," he finally retrieved the bottle of wine he was looking for.

"Oh?" you tried to read the label.

He looked at it too. "Haechan said a dear friend of his made it."

"Haechan has a friend that makes wine?"

Doyoung thought about it for a moment. "Yeah. He said she has a winery."

"That's so cool. I'd love to have a winery too,” you rested your head on the knees, wrapping them with your arms and watching your boyfriend pour it in two tall chalices. "In my next life."

"Cheers to that."

"You will have a boring desk job,” you sipped on your wine slowly after he handed you the glass.

"I can just be hot in my next life and bother you."

"You're already doing it in this life-,”

Doyoung ventured on top of you in a deathly hug and your glasses were thrown on the side.

“I remind you that we’re mad at each other and I still need to do something with that energy,” he chuckled in the crook of your neck. You wanted to reply but his hands reached your sides in a deathly tickling session.

The echoes of your laughter slowly descended the valley as the moonlight kept you company.

#doyoung #doyoung smut #nct-writers #neosmutcollective #nct #nct smut #doyoung hogwarts au #nct hogwarts au #slytherin doyoung

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forcefullyawake · 3 years

Text

Hello! This is for @ketslketslketsl claws and creampies collab.

Summary: It’s not every day a pretty girl gives you her number, or pursues you so much. Sure, it looks like Mikasa is hiding something, but how bad could it be?

Pairings: Mikasa x Reader, Monster! Eren x Reader

Warnings: non human sex, noncon, violence, tentacles, gaslighting

WC: 4.8k

You look like an idiot.

There’s really no way around it. The dress your friend had all but forced you into is a little too tight, the straps on it digging into your plump flesh a little too much. The color on your lips is a little too red, the makeup on your eyes a little heavier than you’d ever done before. All of this to stand out, to show to the party at large that not only were you available but you were looking- something you hadn’t gone out of your way to advertise before. Your friends say that you look hot before you leave, but you think you look like you’re trying to hard.

It’s especially obvious when you’re handed a red solo cup as soon as you walk into the door, and immediately find a place on the wall to people watch. Nobody gives you a second glance (well, maybe a couple do, but at the resting frown on your face nobody gives you a third or tries to strike up a conversation). All of the makeup in the world can’t overcome the fact that you just don’t like talking to new people. Hell, even the friends you came with tonight basically adopted you into their friend group your first week of college, instead of you engaging them.

People filter through the home all around you, some dancing where there’s open space, grinding on each other to a low thumping beat that reverberates through your chest. You have to shift on the uncomfortable heels you’re wearing, trying to subtly grind your thighs together. It’s not like you don’t want that- it’s not like you don’t want to throw caution to the wind and disappear upstairs with some pretty boy or gorgeous girl. It’s just that you don’t know how- it’s like you missed that lesson in school, too wrapped up in a book to learn to relate to people who didn’t exist on a page.

Your mother says it’s not too late to get out there and learn about these things, but it feels that way sometimes. In times like these, it’s hard to gather up the courage to strike up a conversation, even when you’re on your second drink. At least you think it’s your second drink- whatever is in your cup is red and fruity, and it doesn’t taste like there’s much alcohol in it, which even in your limited experience you know is a sure sign there’s probably a whole bottle or two of something in it. It makes your head swim a little, it’s nice in a way but it mostly makes you sleepy.

Maybe you can call an Uber. You can find one of your friends to let them know you’re leaving, call an Uber and go to sleep at an almost decent hour. Let them have all the fun, and the hangovers, while you get a solid eight hours of sleep. At least it’s the weekend, and you have two days of freedom before your job takes up your time again. Your eyes start slowly scanning the crowd, looking for anybody you know- Annie, maybe, she’s tall and her blonde hair sticks out. Or Reiner, the lone male in your group, but knowing him he’s snuck off with Bertolt the first chance they got. Lucky bastard.

“You look lonely,” Someone says to your right, and when you look over there’s a girl standing there. She’s a couple inches taller than you, slender but the sleeves on her shirt are short enough you can see her muscles too. Black hair, pulled back into a ponytail, a dainty gold chain resting on the pale skin of her neck with a little ‘M’ on it. Startling grey eyes that are doing their level best to bore into your skin. Definitely not the type to talk to you.

“Just trying to find my friends,” You say, but it mostly comes out as a whisper. She leans forward a little more, so you repeat yourself, a little louder. There’s a slight edge to her smile when she realizes you’re alone, you think, something about it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. It must be a trick of the light, though, because the next moment it’s gone.

“It might be easier to find them if you’re in the crowd,” She says, murmuring right next to your ear, her breath dancing over your skin, “They could be upstairs, even. I could help you.”

You mean to say no, thanks but no thanks, you’ll be on your way. Your parents talked to you about stranger danger, and you’re on the wrong side of tipsy but what comes out of your mouth is, “Yes, please.” She smiles, victorious and promising.

“I’m Mikasa,” She tells you, putting her hand low on your back as you move away from the wall. The way the dress is designed, all wrapping layers, means there’s a gap in the fabric on your lower back, just enough that you can feel her hand on your skin, cool against you despite how warm it is in the room. You give her your name, watching as she repeats it to make sure she has it correct, eyes rapt on the way her lips move around it.

She doesn’t guide you upstairs, but closer into the makeshift dance floor. It feels like a scene out of one of the romance novels you have tucked away on your bookshelf at home. People seem to part around you, time stands still, all the cliche’s come to life. Her hands are on your hips as she moves behind you, steady and squeezing into you just enough to make your heart race. Mikasa isn’t especially broad but you feel remarkably safe with her right behind you.

“See anybody you know?” She has to lean down to speak in your ear, and between the alcohol and how close she is, you’re not sure you would even recognize your own face. You can feel her moving in time with the music, your own hips starting to sway with hers. Your eyes drift shut, letting her hands wander over your sides, skimming up to right under your breasts before the make a trail like fire back down to your hips. Maybe this isn’t so bad, you think, as you let yourself turn in her arms, her thigh moving between yours.

You’d think it’s a dream, that you did go home when you thought to, and your mind was wandering but the pleasure that courses through your when her jeans rub against your clothed cunt feels too good to be a dream.

“You do this often?” She asks, drawing you back to earth. All you can do is shake your head, arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She laughs at that, mouth forming words you can’t quite make out when you hear your name being called.

“I think your friends have found you,” Mikasa smiles, taking a step back as she eyes someone over your shoulder. Your hands drift back to yourself, helpless in the air before she catches one, grabbing a pen out of her back pocket to scribble something on the back of your hand. She presses a kiss on it when she’s done, giving you a warm smile.

“Call me,” She says, before being swallowed into the bodies behind her. On your hand there’s a phone number. You hold your hand close to your chest as your friends surround you.

“There you are!” Annie hisses at you, wrapping a protective arm around you, “What were you doing with her?”

“Mikasa?” You ask, glancing behind you like you would still be able to see her, “She was helping me look for you. You left me.”

“She looked like she wanted to eat you alive,” Reiner huffs, Bertolt nodding in agreement. You roll your eyes at them.

“Maybe you’re just seeing things,” You suggest, pulling away from them, “Either way I think I’m going to head out. You know this isn’t my scene.”

“I’ll drive you,” Annie says, looking over your shoulder, “Armin is ready to go too.”

“Thanks,” You walk with Annie and her boyfriend to her hatchback, stretching out your legs in the backseat. You ignore their hand holding and longing looks. Clearly, when Annie said Armin was ready to go, she didn’t just mean home. At least the drive home is short. You say your goodbyes and make your way into your apartment, locking the door behind you before getting ready for bed.

Normally you would be tired, but there’s a thrumming in your veins, an undercurrent of excitement at the number written on your skin. You enter it into your phone, debating on sending Mikasa a text, but you hold off, not wanting to seem overeager. Still, you toss and turn, your skin feeling overly sensitive, each brush of your sheets feeling like the brush of fingers.

With a sigh you give up on sleep, rolling onto your back, one hand trailing down your neck while the other pushes up your sleep shirt, fingers skimming up, cupping one breast. You let your eyes close, imaging someone else touching you, Mikasa’s fingers being the ones to curl around your neck, her fingers tweaking at your nipples until they’ve pebbled. You picture her lips, her tongue, when you spread your lips, fingers making tight circles around your clit. It’s not you touching yourself, but her, playing your body like a fiddle until you cum, quicker than you can remember in recent memory, hard and fast, one hand smothering down your moans from your neighbors.

Maybe it should concern you though- no matter how hard you concentrate on Mikasa, picturing her above you, or between your legs, you can seem to recall the color of her eyes.

They only look red in your memory.

Dawn rises bright and early, pulling you from your sleep. You wake up with your heart racing, pounding in your chest. You don’t remember much of your nightmare, only that something was chasing you, nipping at your heels as you ran for your life. With a shudder you roll out of bed, thoughtlessly grabbing your phone to take it with you to the bathroom.

You gather courage as you brush last night out of your teeth, compose a text while washing your face, and hit send right before you step into the shower. It’s nothing special, a quick text that lets Mikasa know it’s you. Your phone balances precariously too close to your shower, music playing steadily out of it when the sound cuts off- your ringtone starts to play. You’re getting a call.

Grabbing your towel from where it rests you dry your hand, half your body out of the shower as you take the call without checking who it is. Nobody calls anymore, you assume it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You try not to sound too panicked. The voice on the other end laughs, low and throaty.

“I thought I said to call me?” Mikasa teases you, can you feel your skin heating up for a reason that has nothing to do with the shower. There’s no way to turn the water off from where you are now, not without getting your phone soaked, and you’re sure she can hear exactly where you are. “Though, maybe I should give you a call back.”

“Give me ten seconds, don’t hang up,” You say, not listening for her reply as you place the phone back onto the counter. Reaching over to twist the shower off, ignoring the soap left on your body to grab your towel and wrap it around you properly. It’s not enough but it’ll have to do.

“Still there?” You ask as you make yourself comfortable on the bed. Your sheets are gonna get wet but it’s worth it. Your skin is cold where the air hits it, but you don’t wanna hang up, not yet.

“Of course,” Mikasa breathes, and butterflies erupt in your stomach. “I know it’s a bit old fashioned to call people now, but I find it’s a much better way of communicating with people, don’t you?”

No, you don’t. You get flustered and stutter over your words, so you much prefer texting where you can make sure you say what you want to, but you certainly can’t tell Mikasa that and so- “Yeah, I think so too. It’s hard to read tone over text.”

That part isn’t a lie, at least. Mikasa’s laugh is like honey in your ears. “You don’t have to lie, I can put you out of your misery now, if you’d like. Send some texts with the letter u as you.” Her teasing doesn’t sting you, not even a little bit.

“Or we could just meet up?” You suggest, breath catching in your throat as you wait for her reply. It could be that you’ve completely misread the situation, maybe she’s just being nice, maybe she doesn’t like girls, maybe-

“Give me an address and I’ll pick you up tonight at 7,” Mikasa replies, so smooth and confident it makes your head swim a little. You rattle off your address and she tells you to dress casual before hanging up. You have all day to get ready but you start immediately, drying your hair and styling it before picking out what you hope is a casual enough outfit- a soft white sweater over a sundress patterned with strawberries. A few swipes of pink makeup later and you’re set.

Now all you have to do is wait.

It feels like the hours manage to double themselves, or even triple themselves. A whole lifetime of waiting in one day until you manage to lose track of time and doze off on the couch. Three sharp knocks on your door startle you awake, sending you flying towards the door.

“I’m awake!” You practically shout, throwing the door open. “I mean. Hello. Hi. Can we do that again?”

“No, it was cute,” Mikasa says, smiling at you. You can feel heat rush to your cheeks, trying to ignore it. You’re not sure if you should invite her in but she solves that problem for you. “Are you ready? The place I’m taking you isn’t that far away.”

“Just let me get my shoes on,” You say, quickly turning to slide your feet into the first pair of sandals you see, strappy ones that make you trip if you’re not careful. But it’s fine. You know you’ll be careful tonight.

Mikasa leads you to her car, a silver hatchback. The interior looks spotless, and there’s an almost overwhelming smell of cleaner permeating through the car. You buckle yourself in before looking at her.

“Got it detailed just for me?” You think your voice is teasing but Mikasa stiffens, inhaling sharply as she looks at you. Her reaction takes you aback. “Whoa. Sorry. Teasing!” Mikasa relaxes almost imperceptibly at that, but you can see her shoulders sag down a little.

“Sorry, normally nobody notices how clean a car is,” She says, “Took me off guard. You’re very perceptive.”

“A lifetime of being a wallflower,” You reply without thinking, “You get good at people watching, all that jazz.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” She teases you back now, bringing a smile to your face. She’s right, the place she takes you isn’t that far away and the drive passes smoothly as she pulls into the parking lot of your towns oldest diner. You sit up straighter in your seat- you haven’t been here since you were a kid.

“It’s a little old fashioned, I know,” Mikasa says as she gets out, and you must be distracted because the next thing you know she’s opening your door for you, and there’s no way she moved that fast. “But the ice cream floats here are to die for.”

“Oh no, this is great!” You exclaim, walking next to her into the diner. She asks for a booth in the corner, something you didn’t know people did outside of your romance novels.

“Order whatever you want,” Mikasa says, barely giving the menu a glance. “It’s my treat.” Your mother didn’t raise you to take advantage of someone’s generosity even on a date so you order a small combination meal- though you do opt to upgrade your drink to an ice cream float at Mikasa’s insistence you try one.

“What do you do for work?” You ask, trying not to cringe at your attempt at small talk while you wait for your food to come out.

“I’m.. uh,” Mikasa hesitates now, looking anywhere but your face. It takes her a fraction of a second too long to answer, just enough time to make you frown when she continues, “I’m a caregiver.” Even to you it sounds like a half truth, but you let it slide, not wanting to be too pushy on a first date.

“Oh?” You say, shifting in your seat, “How did you get started in that?”

“It just kind of.. picked me, I suppose.” Mikasa still isn’t meeting your eyes and you figure it’s time for a change of subject.

“How do you know Historia?” There, that should be a safe question. She was at Historia’s party last night, after all.

“We were friends way back in elementary school,” Mikasa explains, clearly relieved to have moved to something different. “I live one neighborhood over from her, so we’ve already just hung out together.” That makes sense to you- Annie has known Historia since high school, and Annie seemed to know of Mikasa.

“Got any embarrassing stories?” You know you probably shouldn’t ask but you can’t resist. The Historia you know is almost regal in nature, prim and perfect at all times. You can’t even imagine her as a child.

“Oh, do I ever,” Mikasa says, voice a little lower as she leans towards you, launching into a story from her childhood. You hardly notice your food appearing, and then barely taste it as you eat, hanging on Mikasa’s every word. She’s funny and engaging, and it’s not until you hear the pointed cough of the man behind the register that you realize it’s closing time for them.

“Yeah, Zeke, we’re going,” Mikasa says with a roll of her eyes as she pays him. He huffs at her a little bit but soon enough the two of you are sitting inside of her car, an awkward silence growing. What do you say now? You don’t want this date to end but would it be to forward to invite her over? Or will she invite you over? You don’t get too far into your thoughts when the car starts moving.

“Do you wanna come over?” She asks, the car sitting long at a stop sign. She’s looking dead ahead, fingers gripping the wheel so hard it turns white. She’s just as nervous as you are, you realize.

“Yes, please,” You manage to breathe out before continuing on, not wanting to sound rude, “If you want me to, that is.”

“Trust me, I want you to,” Mikasa replies, something laced in her voice but she doesn’t relax at all on the drive to her place. The drive is quiet, tense in a way you don’t understand, but there’s still an electric current in your veins as her house comes into view. It’s one neighborhood over from where you were last night, just like she said, a small place that looks like a two bedroom.

“I got it from my parents,” She explains as she leads you inside, locking the door behind you. “When they passed.” You’re not sure what to say at that but the moment passes. Mikasa leads you to the couch.

Now what?

“So,” You start, barely getting the word out before her lips are pressed against yours, pushing you back onto the couch. Her mouth is firm on yours, insistent. Her hands are on you, sliding down your sides, teasing your thighs under the hem of your dress. Her mouth moves to your neck, biting and kissing and sucking her way down.

It’s a lot, almost too much. You want to tell her to stop, to slow down a little but Mikasa presses forward, your dress sliding up as she slides down between your legs. The shadows on the wall dance in a weird way, that doesn’t seem to move with the way the lights are. You can’t voice anything as Mikasa’s mouth covers your pussy, mouthing at it over your underwear. Her spit wets the fabric, her tongue dragging over your clit, making your eyes roll back. Your fingers curl into fists at your side, legs spreading wider to accommodate her shoulders- which you realize seem too wide now.

You’re so close when your eyes finally open and you look down.

Mikasa isn’t between your legs.

Whatever’s taken her place isn’t human, the face looks human enough but his body (and he’s definitely a him- you think you almost recognize him) blends in with the shadow, tentacles sliding up behind him, reaching out for you.

“Hello,” The monster says, ignoring the way you scream. You manage to twist free, catching him by surprise as your hand shoots out to scratch right at his eyes. You’re on your feet, running as you hear two voices call out your name.

But your shoes, your stupid strappy sandals- your ankle rolls in them and then something grabs you before you fall completely, your head slamming against the front door as everything does dark.

“Wake up,” A harsh voice commands you. It’s a growl, in human and it seems to be inside of your head. You ignore it, trying to roll over, thinking you’re dreaming but you can’t move. That makes your eyes shoot open.

“You’re up!” The monster is looming over you, using it’s many tentacles to hold you down. Your clothes are gone, the cold air biting at your skin. You’re not even sure how it’s this cold inside of a bedroom, one that looks to be incredibly decorated as well. There’s a chair in the corner, a plush blanket under you. It almost looks like a hotel room.

“Mikasa brought you just for me,” It tells you , leaning in close, his tongue coming out to lick at your throat. “You’re so sweet, I can’t wait to play with you, can’t wait to eat you right up!”

“Let- let go of me!” You shout, trying to make your voice as loud as possible. Maybe a neighbor will hear you. Maybe the monster doesn’t like loud noises. “Mikasa!”

“You can scream all you want, nobody is coming to save you,” The monster seems to delight in the way his cruel words make you cry. “It’s just me and you.” It pauses. “Maybe I’ll let Mikasa play with you a little too, before I kill you. She really liked you, she almost didn’t want to give you to me.”

He leans closer, speaking into your ear, rancid breath sweeping over you, “But I insisted. And she won’t ever deny me.”

“Eren,” Mikasa’s voice comes from the door way, “There’s no need to be cruel.” She’s not looking at you at all, looking rapturously at the monster on top of you. She looks in awe, in love even.

And not even slightly afraid of him.

“You know they taste better when they’re afraid, Mikasa, how many times do I have to tell you that?” The monster, Eren, snaps at her, hardly giving her a second glance. A tentacle creeps up your leg, twisting around it, the tip grazing over your cunt. A shudder of revulsion runs through you when it taps your clit, sending a spark of pleasure through you. “It’s better when they fight it. It always is.”

“Whatever you say, Eren,” Mikasa gives a sigh, taking up the seat you saw before. She’s wearing sweat pants now, a sports bra, looking like she’s just came in from working out. There’s a light sweat on her skin.

“Going to watch this time?” Eren asks, shifting so he’s to your side now, his tentacles holding you open, putting you on display. You try to close your legs but he’s too strong, his grip too tight. “Normally you don’t. Is this one special?”

“You know as well as I do that she’s just like the rest of them,” Mikasa says, and that, more than anything is what breaks you. A sob tears from your throat, as reality comes crashing in. You’re nothing more than a mark- she was never really into you at all.

Of course, you think, why would anybody like her be into someone like you?

More of his tentacles come up, holding your pussy open to their gazes. Despite her harsh words Mikasa has a hard time looking away from it. Eren’s tentacles are softer than they look as one circles your clit, drawing wetness from you no matter how much you tell yourself you don’t want this.

The tip of the tentacle is insistent though, circling your clit with more pressure until your hips jump up, chasing after it when Eren moves it back. He laughs, mocking and mean, before returning to his ministrations. He’s not soft in the way he touches you, one tentacle coming up to start to slowly push it’s way inside of you. It’s bigger than anything you’ve ever taken before and it hurts.

“Stop,” You whine, hips twisting away from him as much as you can, “It hurts, please, stop!”

“I’ll stop when I’ve had my fill,” Eren replies, his voice mockingly sweet as the tentacle rams into you, splitting you open. The one circling your clit has left, leaving you reeling as your mind focuses in on the pain. The pace he sets is brutal, and his tentacle doesn’t feel like a cock or any of your toys. It squirms inside of you, pushing upwards along your front wall until-

“Fuck!” You wail now, thrashing on the bed. Eren smiles, and Mikasa gives a little whimper. You manage to look at her only to see her sat low in the chair, her own legs spread, with one of her hands down the front of her sweats, clearly touching herself while the other works at one of her nipples. “Please!”

“I knew you would beg,” Eren sounds delighted, “They always beg!” Your words seem to be what he was waiting for- the tentacle returns to your clit while the other attacks that spongy spot inside of you. You’re crying outright now, absolutely sobbing with- with everything, really. Your cries are of pleasure, of pain, of fear, of ecstasy. You cum harder than you ever have in your entire life.

But Eren doesn’t stop.

He keeps going, now moving to to lap up your juices with his tongue, cleaning you as one orgasm trips into the next, and then another. You can’t tell if you ever really come down from one. It’s too much, it hurts again, and you don’t want this- you know you don’t want this, you want him to stop and-

You pass out, somewhere after what you think is an hour, if not more. Your mind blissfully goes blank, locking you away behind a door, away from your fractured reality.

People are talking above you, in quiet, hushed tones.

“We can’t keep her.”

“You said you just wanted a snack tonight, Eren. Not.. not that.”

“She’ll go to the police.”

“They won’t believe her, you know that. They didn’t believe Historia.”

“Historia was a child.”

“I’ll convince her she fell asleep or something, you know I can.”

“Fine. But Mikasa?”

“Yes?”

“Next time she’s mine.”

You don’t hear anything after that.

“Hey,” Mikasa is by your side. You’re back on her couch, clothes in place. You jerk up, away from her, looking for signs of what happened but there’s nothing. You don’t see any bruising. You feel sore between your legs, but nothing that would match what you went through. “You fell asleep. After we fucked.”

That’s not true, you know it isn’t true but the only other explanation doesn’t make sense. Monsters aren’t real. You weren’t… assaulted by one. Mikasa has to be right.

“Oh,” You struggle to sit up, feeling sluggish. “I’m sorry. I’m normally not like that.” The smile on Mikasa’s face is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I think I need to go home. I don’t feel so good. Can you take me?”

“Sure, of course,” Mikasa sounds relieved. That’s good, you think, she’s not mad at you. It must have been awkward for her when you fell asleep, had that nightmare. It felt so real. She helps you gather up your things. One of the straps on your sandal is broken. You’re not sure how but it’s a short walk to her car, you can go barefoot.

She starts it up, already talking to you about meeting up again, maybe next week if you want? You tell her it sounds nice, that you had a really good time tonight. You can’t tell how she’s lying through her teeth.

You give her home one last look as she pulls the car away.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think the shadow in the window had a face, that it waved at you.

But you know better.

Monsters aren’t real.

#collabs #mikasa x reader #eren x reader #noncon tw #gaslighting tw #violence tw #non human sex tw

96 notes · View notes

sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Note

toxic fraternity boy!hanma realises that reader is the one that he wants after a little argument between the two romantic interests, but once he sees one of the members of his fraternity try to chat reader up he does even worse…

Would love to see what you do with this hehehe

ANON, I--

*remembers all of the frat boy parties I went to (count 'em: 1) and how toxic smells like Axe Body Spray and cheap condoms)* You're giving me a ton of liberty with this one and I'm going to do my best to deliver!

Order: Shuji Hanma x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.3k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

song recommendation:

A/n: I'll have to tell y'all the story about seeing Ferg in concert with my dad some time. Pop-Pop did not have a great time lol

"Fuck Shuji," your best friend, Rita, grumbles over the music spilling out of the frat house. "I don't give a shit if he's here tonight. You're going to have fun, no matter what."

You nod as she talks, making your way past the bushes leading up to the large red and black home in a mini-skirt and crop top that didn't belong to you. The only thing you're wearing that is yours is the pair of high heels that you fished out of the back of your closet for this very occasion.

"Hey, y/n!" one of Shuji's frat brothers calls out from the doorway. You look up and give him a small wave, smiling at him. "There's a bunch to drink in the kitchen and pizza, too. Glad you could make it!" When you step inside the house, the sound of the music is deafening, and you have to push through the massive crowd to even get to the kitchen, where the drinks are.

"Okay, one for me and several for you, since I'm the designated driver for tonight." Your friend pours you a red Solo cup full of vodka and toasts you heartily. "To forgetting about douchebags!"

You take a large gulp of the liquid just as you see Shuji walking down the stairs of the frat house with his friends, laughing and passing a joint. You avert your eyes as quickly as you can and make your way to the opposite side of the house, where you can lose yourself in the trap music. You're surrounded by a bunch of people who can hide you from his gaze, and that's all you want for now. You don't want to think about the fight, the way he called you a "whore", or how hard you slammed the car door afterward.

You just want to get drunk, dance, and forget.

"Yo, y/n," you hear over your shoulder. You turn to see Izana, his purple eyes devouring your image. "What's a good girl like you doing at one of these heathen parties?" You laugh at his description of you, and he winds his hands around your waist carefully.

"What's president of the frat doing down here with us plebeians?" Izana leans forward, tapping his forehead against yours as he smiles at you brightly.

"I was actually looking for you," he begins, biting his lower lip. As his hips grind against yours, you wonder what the playboy needs from you, but he quickly answers your unspoken question. "Heard you and Shuji had a blowout fight the other day. You okay?"

"Yeah," you lie, looking down. Izana tilts your chin up, frowning a little.

"Hurt your feelings, didn't he?" You avert your eyes quickly, ashamed.

"He did," you admit, and Izana hums in displeasure.

"That just won't do. I can't have a pretty girl upset at my party, now, can I?" You shake your head, but a commotion beside you makes you look to your left. Coming through the crowd is Shuji, his orange eyes squinting at the scene.

"Izana," he mutters, crossing his arms. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Just trying to cheer little y/n up. Your fight really hurt her feelings," Izana answers, hand still on your waist.

"Doesn't mean we broke up," Shuji frowns, jerking his chin at the older frat brother and cracking his knuckles. You look at Izana, who shrugs, backing away from you.

"All yours, Shu." Shuji turns to you, his orange eyes softening in the glow of the fairie lights behind you.

"Y/n, I want to apologize."

"I don't want to think about it," you gripe, walking through the crowd and clutching your cup to your chest.

If I can just get outside...

You stumble down the steps, dropping your almost empty cup of vodka on the pavement and cursing. Shuji isn't too far behind you, calling your name, but you can't be bothered.

"Fuck off, Hanma," you hiss, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder as you wander down the sidewalk.

"Babe," he growls, stepping in front of you and shrugging his jacket off. "It's cold. And it's about to rain. Come back inside so we can talk." He hands you the jacket, but you're still furious, so you knock it out of his hands. "Please," Shuji whispers, stooping to picking up his jacket as you turn back the other way. "Y/n, you have to hear me out!"

"I don't have to listen to anything you have to say," you toss over your shoulder, crossing your arms. "I would rather eat a can of dirt." Just as you finish speaking, your heel catches in a crack of the sidewalk, and you feel yourself falling forward in slow-motion. Dread sinks into your stomach as you land on your hands and knees, feeling the skin on your kneecaps singing out in pain.

"Y/n!" Shuji pulls you off the ground, cradling you against his chest and carrying you to his car as the rain begins to fall on your tear-streaked face and skinned knees.

"Put me down," you whine weakly, but Shuji only lets you go when he's opened his car door and slid you inside. You lay back against the seat, closing your eyes and shaking as you sob, not even bothering to wipe the tears from your face as he enters on the driver's side and starts the car.

"Here," he murmurs, turning on the heat and placing his jacket over your wet body. "I'm taking you home. Did you come with Rita?"

"Yes," you reply, looking down at your bloody knees. He dials Rita's number on the console of his car and waits for it to pick up. When it goes to voicemail, he tells her that he's taking you home and not to worry. You stare out of the window on the drive home, colors swirling and swimming until they begin to look familiar again, like the colors of your small apartment building. Shuji doesn't speak as he carries you out of the car; his normally tall hair now laying against his forehead due to the pouring rain. At your door, he fishes out his key from his back pocket and slides it into the door.

"Can you walk?" Shuji asks, and you nod, limping into the apartment slowly. He closes the door behind him and locks up, then follows you into the kitchen. The location of the first-aid kit is familiar - it's stashed on the second shelf of the pantry - and he pulls it out, looking for antiseptic and bandages.

Shuji hoists you onto the counter, and when he wipes the blood off your knees, you hiss, jerking your leg a little. "Sorry, babe," he mutters, taping a waterproof bandage over each knee and then kissing them sweetly.

"Why do we even fight anymore?" you sigh, and he stands up, looking you in the eye as he leans forward on the counter, hands on either side of you.

"I don't know," Shuji breathes. "I just know I'm so, so sorry, y/n." You nod, wiping your face.

"Yeah, I heard you the first time." There's a pause, then Shuji mumbles,

"I should shower. I smell like beer."

"Same," you echo. "Should we shower together?"

The obvious answer to that question is 'yes', and you find yourself wrapped up in an embrace with Shuji as he kisses you deeply, legs hoisted around his waist as he pushes into you with your back against the shower wall.

"I remember why we fight," you laugh, pulling away to catch your breath.

"Why is that?" he wonders, eyes still on your lips.

"Because the makeup sex is so fucking good."

"Damn right," Shuji mumbles, giving you a hickey and sliding out and then back in. "So fucking good."

#shuji hanma smut #shuji hanma x reader #hanma shuji #shuji hanma #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers

392 notes · View notes

spine-buster · 3 years

Text

Patience is a Virtue ft. Matthew Tkachuk | 𝒯𝑒𝓂𝓅𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

CONTENT WARNING: this story deals with cults, polygamous cults, escaping cults, strict adherence to religion, gender roles, abuse, miscarriage, and a character with a traumatic past. ̲𝖳̲𝗁̲𝗂̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖼̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗉̲𝗍̲𝖾̲𝗋̲ ̲𝗌̲𝗉̲𝖾̲𝖼̲𝗂̲𝖿̲𝗂̲𝖼̲��̲𝗅̲𝗅̲𝗒̲ ̲𝗁̲𝖺̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗆̲𝖾̲𝗇̲𝗍̲𝗂̲𝗈̲𝗇̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝖽̲𝖾̲𝖺̲𝗅̲𝗌̲ ̲𝗐̲𝗂̲𝗍̲𝗁̲ ̲𝗍̲𝗋̲𝖺̲𝗎̲𝗆̲𝖺̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝗂̲𝗇̲𝗀̲ ̲𝖿̲𝗋̲𝗈̲𝗆̲ ̲𝗆̲𝗂̲𝗌̲𝖼̲𝖺̲𝗋̲𝗋̲𝗂̲𝖺̲𝗀̲𝖾̲𝗌̲ ̲𝖺̲𝗇̲𝖽̲ ̲𝗌̲𝖾̲𝗑̲𝗎̲𝖺̲𝗅̲ ̲𝖺̲𝖻̲𝗎̲𝗌̲𝖾̲.̲ Please be warned.

Word Count: 15,503

A/N: I have been loving your feedback on this story so far. Your canon question about Matthew and Effie are great and I would love to hear and answer more. It means the world to me that a plot this...unconventional, let’s say, is really taking hold and generating interest. I know that there’s some really, really serious stuff dealt with in the chapters, so I appreciate everyone’s feedback and maturity about it. As always, please check the content warning for this chapter. Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys the update!

* * * * *

She wrote every message on Instagram like an email, and Matthew couldn’t get enough of it.

Hello Matthew,

Today was interesting. I started classes for my business certificate today. I sat in a room with about 50 other people and I listened to my professor speak about the course prospectus and what we would be learning and doing. I didn’t meet any new people or make any new friends but that’s okay. I want to focus on my studies. I already have homework.

How has St. Louis been? I bet you are excited to be back home. I hope you are relaxing and staying safe.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I know you are going to ace that program, Effie. You’re very talented and smart and it’ll be no time until you find yourself with a certificate and able to explore more job opportunities.

St. Louis is good. Brady and Taryn are home too so it’s good to be surrounded by family. I know it’s not the same for you but one day I think you will find a group of friends that will make up your family. Most days I go golfing with my dad. I usually relax by our pool too, or play basketball or some other sport with Brady. I go to the gym too, to keep up on my fitness for next season.

Hello Matthew,

Class was good today. We started the beginning lectures. The professor went quickly but I was able to keep up. I’m definitely learning how to type fast on my laptop!

You said in your message that I’m very talented but I don’t think I’m talented. I’m maybe talented at some things like baking, but I don’t think I’m talented in much else. Talents are developed over time and I was never given the opportunity to develop anything because I was expected to be a good wife, tend to children, and read the Bible. Sometimes I think about if I could have been a piano player or a singer or something creative. Maybe I could have been a writer like Geneviève if I was given the opportunity young, but I wasn’t. But that’s okay. I am trying to make my peace with it. I will develop what I have now and try to use it for good.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Nobody bakes like you, Effie. Please don’t think you are not talented, because you are. I know you weren’t able to develop anything like you said, but you can still find your talents now. You’re still young! You’re only entering your 20s in a few weeks. You can do whatever you set your mind to.

Hi Matthew,

Levi and Jenna took me to the mall again today. We bought some new clothes that fit me better and aren’t so baggy. They look really nice. I even bought a dress that falls right at my knee. Can you believe it?! I never thought I’d wear something like that. I never thought anybody else would be able to see my legs! It’s a very weird feeling but it’s a very pretty dress. Jenna said I should wear it for my birthday and I think I’m going to do it. Do you want to see it? I can send you a picture of it if you want.

I checked the weather in St. Louis and saw there was a big thunderstorm. I hope you weren’t caught it in or anything. I can’t imagine your curly hair getting wet in the rain and what it would look like.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

What are you trying to say about my hair??????????

I would love to see your dress. I bet it looks great on you. And you will need to send me pictures of you wearing it on your birthday.

They happened daily. Usually sometime after dinner, when Matthew knew Effie had just finished eating and was either winding down for the night or preparing to do homework. Every day, he waited for the message. And every day, he’d grab his phone the second he heard the notification, not bothering to wait, and read the message eagerly.

***

Matthew found himself at a raucous house party, one that could have been characteristic of any stereotypical college experience or American movie trying to depict a traditional American life. It felt like it was straight out of the American Pie movies. A friend of his was hosting, and there was everything – beer kegs, jungle juice, trashed guys jumping into the pool, music blasting so loud Matthew almost couldn’t hear his own thoughts, girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys at the party not paying attention to them.

Hot girls taking selfies and posting to Instagram or complaining about boys – he and Brady – not paying attention to them.

Brady was taken and accounted for – Emma was great and Matthew loved her, even though he saw her only sparingly – and so most of the attention tonight was placed on Matthew. He was the shiny new toy every time he came back to St. Louis in the summers – well, shiny always, but new not so much. Nothing was new about him being in St. Louis in the summer, but everybody always treated is as such a big deal because he spent most of the year in Calgary. That’s why attention was always on him, especially at parties like this. That’s why everybody wanted to talk to him. That’s why all the girls wanted to talk to him. Matthew didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to enjoy his night with his buddies, drinking beer and chatting them all up.

That was…until Leah made an appearance.

Leah, a girl. Leah, a girl he would hook up with in the summers…occasionally. Sporadically. Like, once a summer when he was back. Maybe twice. She’d always show up everywhere and smile and be nice. And when Matthew was tipsy, or just a little bit drunk, he’d think ‘What the hell’ and let the night take him where it wanted to take him.

Just like now.

“Hey Matty,” she cooed, smiling as she always did and biting the bottom of her lip. She went in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He could swear she spilled some of her jungle juice on his neck.

“Hey Leah,” he said, his lips in a tight smile as she pulled away. She was wearing a frilly crocheted top and cut-off denim shorts. She looked hot. Any guy at the party would have wanted to hook up with her. “How are you?”

“Better now that I see you,” her flirting was automatic. “How long have you been back for?”

“A few weeks,” Matthew shrugged his shoulders.

“And no call or text? Ouch, Matty.”

“You always show up places,” he found himself saying, feeling his lips curve into a smirk. “Didn’t think I needed to call.”

“Well then maybe I should have sent you a text.”

The party went on. Matthew hung out with his buddies and talked up a storm. Everybody got a kick out of his hockey stories and were practically begging for more. He’d catch Leah staring at him from a few friend groups away where she stayed with her girlfriends, or from across the backyard or something, and she’d always bite her lip and flutter her eyelashes. The beers kept pouring down his throat and he noticed her get closer and closer until she wiggled her way in with her friends. It probably took a while, but in Matthew’s mind, it felt like it was only a minute until she was right in front of him, red solo cup in her hand.

“Have you tried the jungle juice?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve been drinking beer all night.”

“Come get some inside with me,” she said, already grabbing his hand. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. She pulled him as he staggered behind her, almost tripping on the steps of the patio and while walking through the screen door. When they finally got to the kitchen, Leah looked over her shoulder and winked before tugging Matthew nearer to her body. She spun around in front of the jungle juice to pour some more into her cup. When she did, Matthew could feel her ass up against his groin. He felt like he was going to pass out from the beer.

“Did you miss me, Matty?” she asked as she looked at him over her shoulder again.

“I miss everyone in St. Louis,” he replied.

Leah apparently didn’t like that response, because she grinded her ass up against his groin even harder now. “Don’t say that,” she cooed. “I know you miss me. It’s not like there’s anybody in Calgary like me.”

Matthew hummed. She was right. There wasn’t anybody like her in Calgary.

Effie was nothing like her.

Matthew’s stomach twisted as images of Effie flooded his mind. The first one that came was the day he had picked her up at the hairdresser’s when she’d chopped off all her hair. She looked so cute, and he remembered how bashful he was. Then came the image of her sitting on another couch watching Little Women intently, at least fifteen bags of candy spread out on the coffee table of Levi’s basement. She was so into watching the movie, and he was so into watching her. Then came the image of her face, sweet and innocent and beautiful – the last face he saw in Calgary before heading to the airport and boarding a plane to St. Louis. “No,” he mumbled out, half-drunk and heart aching.

“No,” Leah repeated with a smile on her face, turning around finally to face him before trailing her finger down his chest and letting in linger on the hem of his jeans. “There’s nobody in Calgary like me.”

He furrowed his brows. He wanted out, but his feet felt like cement. They always were when he was on the edge of being drunk. He gulped. “Where’s Brady?”

“Come with me, Matty,” she tugged at his jeans before grabbing his hands again and dragging him through the house. She kept looking over her shoulder to smile at him and he kept looking back towards the backyard. “I know what you need.”

She led him down a hallway, and at the end of that hallway was the bathroom. She turned on the light and dragged him inside, shutting the door behind them and locking it. She looked at him suggestively when the click filled the air. “Le—”

“Shhh…” she pressed her finger against his lips to shut him up, replacing them quickly with her lips as she began to kiss him.

Matthew closed his eyes.

These weren’t Effie’s lips.

She was kissing his neck now, and had backed him into the sink so he could lean against it. Her hands wandered down to the button and zipper of his jeans. Suddenly, she dipped down and was on her knees in front of him. “Want me to suck you off, Matty?”

“N—No,” he stuttered out, looking down at her. Matthew felt the zipper being pushed down and her hand on his groin.

“You can come down my throat,” she offered.

He closed his eyes tightly, and in the darkness, he saw only one person: Effie.

The only thing that brought him back – because he could have stayed alone in the bathroom with his eyes closed and the image of Effie in his mind for the rest of the God damn party if he really wanted to – was the sound of his zipper being pushed down dramatically. He opened his eyes. “Would you stop?!” he demanded, wiggling out of where he’d been backed into the sink. He grabbed the front of his pants and zipped them up again.

Leah, still on her knees, spun around and glared at him. “Oh you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” she got up slowly, not breaking eye contact. “You have someone in Calgary?” she demanded.

Matthew refused to answer as he did up his button.

“Who the fuck is she?” she demanded again.

“There’s nobody.”

“Fucking hell there’s nobody. What’s her name?”

“Don’t go there, Leah. As if I’d tell you.”

“You’re fucking someone in Calgary? Since when?”

“As if I’d tell you,” he repeated.

She gave him one last glare because unlocking the door. “Fuck you Matthew Tkachuk. You’ll fucking miss me.”

“Doubt it.”

***

Hi Matthew,

I went to a Starbucks today to work on some school work and people watch. When you get back to Calgary, we will need to find a new Starbucks because the one near Levi’s house is too far away now. Anyway, I was working on an assignment and watching people interact and go about their daily lives. It was eye-opening and a bit weird to me. A lot of people were on their phones! It makes me wonder if I should be on it more…? A lot of the girls who walked in were really fashionable and it makes me want to go shopping again. I don’t think I’ll ever look as good as Geneviève or Annica but I could definitely try, and they could help me. I learn a lot by people watching. Does that make me weird?

I had a Zoom call with Geneviève and Jacob in Sweden. She is doing well and helped me with my assignment a little bit. I’ve been baking shortbread recently, and I’m going to make butter tarts tomorrow. I miss you being my taste-tester, but I bet you are happy to have home cooking. Sometimes I wonder if my siblings miss my cooking but I doubt they do.

Did you think I was weird when I said I didn’t miss my family at all?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

I do not think you are weird at all for not missing your family. They were abusive. You have no reason to miss them.

People are addicted to their phones these days, which is why you’re so refreshing. You’re not a slave to it…at least yet lol. I hurt my eyes sometimes from staring at my screen too long.

I can’t wait to eat ALL of your baking when I get back. It’s the best, Effie. It really is.

I miss you a lot.

Hi Matthew,

I miss you too.

Thank you for not thinking I’m weird for not missing my family.

I’ve been watching a lot of movies and listening to a lot of music. I’ve been researching what’s been popular since I was born and I’m trying to, like, catch up I guess. Some of the movies I don’t like or don’t get. Some of them are really funny, and I watched them because I know people quote them all the time. Like this movie called Bridesmaids. I want to be able to get references people make even though I wasn’t in the moment of them. There are some movies I’ve read about online that seem amazing, but I don’t want to watch them alone. They are:

Eternal Sunshine of a Spotless Mind Moonlight There Will Be Blood Shoplifters Brokeback Mountain The Master Unorthodox

When you come back to Calgary, would you watch them all with me?

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Of course I’ll watch them all with you.

***

Effie Schaffer woke up the morning of her 20th birthday, on July 7, 2021, to her phone ringing. Birthdays were not a thing in the People’s Dominion of Christ. They were not celebrated. Effie always knew when hers was, but as a kid she never had a birthday party, and when she was forced to marry the prophet, she hated her birthday. Hated it. She always wished that the prophet would forget about it but he never did. It was the one day of the year she spent the most time praying, and when she was not praying, she was with the prophet on his demand. Several weeks later, usually, after a lot of blood loss and visit from the cult’s midwife (though she wasn’t properly medically trained), Abraham would tell Effie that everything was her fault, that God was testing him when He spoke to Abraham and told him to take Effie as his wife. “July 7. 7/7. One number above the Devil,” he’d tell her. “That’s what you are. Just above the devil. Your blood and your loss are the signs of having the devil in you. That’s why you refuse to carry my Son of God.”

She wasn’t expecting anybody to call besides Levi and Jenna, but they said they would be picking her up at noon anyway. After she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up in bed a little bit, she was pleasantly surprised, albeit a little shocked, to see Matthew’s name flash across the screen. The giant FaceTime text was at the bottom of screen. Effie swiped to answer. After a bit of lagging, Matthew’s smiling face appeared. “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” he screamed, loudly, causing her to jump slightly.

“Thank you, Matthew,” she said, her heartbeat going back to normal.

“How does it feel to officially be in your twenties?” he asked.

Effie could barely think, so she shrugged. “When I wake up and my brain starts working, I’ll tell you.”

Matthew furrowed his brows. It was only then that he noticed half of her hair in a scrunchie and the pillows behind her head. “Oh shit, I fucked up time zones, didn’t I?” he asked worriedly. “What time is it there?”

Effie looked at her watch. “It’s 7:30 in the morning.”

“I woke you up! Jesus Effie, I’m so sorry,” he began to apologize. “I’m such an idiot—”

“It’s okay, Matthew,” she said, smiling at how his own smile had faded from his face when he realized he had woken her up early. 7:30 in the morning would have been a godsend two years ago, when she usually woke up at 5:30. “It’s nice to be woken up by your voice on my birthday, actually. Someone is at least treating it like a birthday.”

“Levi’s gonna treat you,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if Levi wouldn’t.

“I know,” she said. “I mean, like…before. Birthdays weren’t exactly a celebration.”

“You never used to celebrate your birthday?” he asked, thinking back to all the amazing birthdays his parents had thrown he and his siblings over the years. Because his was so close to Christmas, it was extra special. His parents always made sure Christmas didn’t overshadow it too much. Same with Taryn being born on Halloween. Brady’s parties were always good too because they were right after the start of school, so usually the entire class would be invited.

“No,” Effie shook her head. Matthew was sort of waiting for her to elaborate, but it seemed like she didn’t want to. He left it at that. “Levi’s taking me to that steakhouse we went to for Noah’s birthday,” she informed him. “I think I’m gonna have another tomahawk.”

Matthew smiled again. “Please do, in honour of me.”

“Maybe I’ll take a picture of it to show you what you’re missing.”

“Believe me, I know what I’m missing,” he said. He bit his lip, wondering for a quick second if he should tell her about the gifts coming her way. He quickly decided against it, thinking it would be better left as a surprise. “I’m sorry I can’t be there, Effie.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Matthew,” she told him, meaning it sincerely. “It’s an amazing thing that you’re so close to them. I…believe me, I know how important that is…to be able to have people who love you unconditionally, to be able to have people who love you and want to see you and always have your best interests at heart. I would never want to take that away from you. And besides, when we watch all those movies together…you’ll be there. We’ll be reunited.”

He licked his lips, nodding quickly. “You bet.”

***

Matthew had been lying around the house all day after playing a round of golf with his dad that morning. He’d tanned by the pool with Taryn and ate straight from the bag of Veggie Straws, but he was pretty glued to his phone because he wanted to see the delivery updates for the gifts he’d gotten Effie for her birthday.

The first gift was a giant bouquet of flowers. Peonies, mostly, of course, because of her tattoo, set in a beautiful vase. He’d gotten the delivery notification, then about five minutes later he’d received a picture of it from Effie over Instagram saying thank you. Fifteen minutes later, she uploaded a photo of it to her Instagram feed and tagged him. ‘Beautiful bouquet of peonies from my friend Matthew! I am twenty years old today.’ was her caption. That was the first gift.

The second was a delivery of some cookies from an amazing bakery in Calgary that Annica and Geneviève always ordered from. The cookies were divine, but realistically, they weren’t better than Effie’s cookies. But Effie making cookies for her own birthday wasn’t exactly a gift, so he knew he’d have to order her a batch. Again, he’d gotten the notification that the cookies had been delivered, and ten minutes later, Effie had sent a selfie of her with one of the chocolate chip cookies. ‘Yum!’ she’d texted with the photo. Another notification on Instagram told him Effie had uploaded another photo and tagged him in it. ‘My friend Matthew gave me cookies too! How sweet! Cookies are some of my favourite treats.’ He absolutely loved her feed and the way she used Instagram. If he had to delete everyone else and just follow her, he’d do it.

The last gift was the trickiest. He didn’t know how she’d react. But she didn’t have one of her own – she’d been borrowing Jenna’s – and she needed one, quite literally, for her job. He wondered if she’d like the colour. And the make. And all the attachments.

A ‘MATTHEW, YOU DIDN’T’ text suddenly came through on his phone, and he couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear. It was the first time it didn’t sound like an email.

Do u like it? he texted back.

I LOVE IT IN THE PISTACHIO TOO MY FAVOURITE COLOUR AND THE SIFTER ATTACHMENT AND THE ICE CREAM MAKER ATTACHMENT MATTHEW!

Im happy u like it! Now u can bake all you want and not have to borrow Jenna’s

“Taryn, mom needs you inside to help with something,” Brady’s voice boomed through the silence of the backyard. Matthew heard the screen door burst open, and watched conspicuously through his sunglasses as Brady more or less barged towards them.

“Can she wait?” Taryn didn’t make any effort to move.

“Now Taryn. She seems pretty adamant,” Brady didn’t give up, his tone serious as he continued to walk towards them.

Taryn grumbled and got up from her seat. Matthew locked his phone and pretended not to care, even when Brady took Taryn’s place in her lawn chair right beside him and didn’t bother lying down. Instead, he sat facing Matthew, elbows on his knees and hands joined together, like he was a cop about to interrogate his brother. “Who’s in Calgary?”

Matthew looked over at him. “Huh?”

“Who’s in Calgary?” Brady asked again.

Matthew was confused. “G…Gio?” he asked.

“Who’s in Calgary that made you not hook up with Leah at the party?”

Matthew’s heart dropped in the pit of his stomach. For fuck sakes. He sighed deeply and took off his sunglasses, trying to make it seem like everything was being blown out of proportion when, really, Matthew just didn’t want people knowing. But he told Brady everything – everything. He was sort of impressed that the secret had lasted this long, if he was being honest. “Brady…” he began, his voice low.

Brady took off his sunglasses too. “There’s a girl.”

“Sort of. It’s complicated.”

“It’s complicated? What’s her name?”

Matthew thought about not telling him, but there was no point. Brady would find out eventually, and Matthew would rather Brady learn the news from him than from the rumour mill or from Leah stalking his social media. “It’s…Effie.”

“Effie?”

“Who’s Effie?” Taryn voice boomed. The boys whipped their head to see her standing at their family room’s sliding doors, hiding behind the screen door.

“Taryn!” both brothers yelled at their sister.

“Effie? Who’s Effie?” Chantal called out from the kitchen.

“What’s an Effie?” Keith asked from beside Chantal.

“Oh my GOD this is a disaster!” Matthew screamed out in frustration. “Get out of here, Taryn!”

“Who’s Effie?” Brady demanded once more.

Matthew put his heads in his hands dramatically before giving up. There was no way he was going to get out of this. Now his whole family would know. It would be a game of telephone, and by the end of his and Brady’s conversation, Keith would hear Matthew married a girl named Jessie who’d grown up in a hut. “You remember me talking about one of our physio guys? Levi Schaffer?” Matthew asked. Brady nodded. “His younger sister.”

Brady furrowed his brows. “Isn’t Levi in his thirties? You’re dating an older woman, Matthew?”

Matthew rolled his eyes. “No, you dolt. She’s fifteen years younger than he is.”

“SHE’S FIFTEEN?!”

“WHAT?!” Taryn screamed from the screen door again.

“AAAAAAARGHHHH!” Matthew screamed in absolute frustration. “You are literally the dumbest person alive, you know that right?!” he screamed at Brady.

“Matthew! Apologize to your brother!” Chantal called from the house, opening the screen door and stepping through into the backyard with Keith.

“But mom! He’s an idiot!”

“Matthew,” Keith’s voice bellowed. “Now.”

“Sorry,” Matthew grumbled. His parents always made the siblings do this stuff, ever since they were kids. “Can we just drop it all?” he asked.

“Nope. We’re all here now,” Brady said. “Who’s Effie?”

Matthew sighed heavily. “She’s a girl I met through my friend Levi at work.”

“What’s the big deal? Are you dating her?” Keith asked.

“No,” Matthew answered immediately, shaking his head. “No. We’re not dating. Not at all. She…” he began, trying to find the right words.

“She…” Brady egged on.

“She’s a bit…” Matthew began again. How was he going to tell them? How was he gonna word it? Should he sugar coat it or just come out and say it? “She’s a bit…different. She…she and Levi grew up in one of those, like, religious cults, out in rural Alberta. But a year and a half ago, she escaped, and she’s been trying to adjust to the real world ever since. I met her in January, at Noah’s birthday. And ever since, I’ve just been, like…helping her experience the normal world.”

The entire Tkachuk family was silent as they processed the information. They were definitely expecting a much different explanation from Matthew, that was for sure. “A religious cult, Matthew?” Chantal was the first to speak. Matthew nodded his head. Chantal grew serious. “Was she abused?”

Matthew hesitated, but he eventually nodded his head. It wasn’t his business to tell – he knew that – but he couldn’t lie to his own mother. “She could only wear dresses. She had to read the Bible all day. She was married at fourteen to the leader of the cult who was 55. That sort of thing,” he explained briefly, not wanting to give any more details.

Chantal looked concerned. Keith looked at his wife before looking back at his son. “So you’re not dating her, but you’re helping her learn about the real world,” Keith clarified. Matthew nodded again. Keith looked at Brady. “Then that’s none of our business! What’s the big deal?” he huffed.

“It’s not—”

“Why’re you busting his balls then?”

“Keith!” Chantal chastised.

***

Hi Matthew,

I still can’t believe you got me the stand mixer. I love it so much. It’s the only thing that I have out on my countertop because there’s no reason to hide it. And the pistachio colour is sooooooo beautiful. I promise that as a token of appreciation, I’m going to bake you whatever sweets you want when you get back to Calgary. Seriously. Anything you want. Even if I haven’t made it before. And I’ll make ice cream too!

I have been taking some walks around Calgary in my spare time. It’s a really beautiful city. Sometimes I will do my walks at night and see all the young people out at restaurants and bars and all the light are lit up downtown, and it’s even more beautiful. It’s so nice to see life in people. Everybody in the cult was so miserable. Maybe I’m just saying that because I was so miserable, but that’s how I remember it. Nobody was happy about life. Well, they weren’t happy about life like the people in downtown Calgary are on a Friday or Saturday night.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Calgary is definitely a beautiful city, and I’m happy that you’re starting to see that. Wait until you see even more of the country and the world one day! All of those young people that you see out and about are your age. I know you are probably very nervous to make new friends, but if you ever want to go out to one of those places, I’m sure Levi or Jenna would take you. When the team gets back into the city, I know any of the guys would take you too, just like when we went out for Andrew’s birthday. You just let us know when. And I apologize in advance for Noah’s behaviour.

I’m going to put in a request for snickerdoodles. My mom used to make them a lot growing up, but she doesn’t make them as much now because then I’d eat them all and get too pudgy.

Hi Matthew,

Snickerdoodles it is. I will perfect the recipe before you come back.

On top of movies, I’ve also been listening to music. Levi lets me use his Spotify. He also told me what an iPod is…was. Have you heard of Adele? She’s amazing! I love her voice. Most of the time I just let Spotify recommend me things and I end up liking them, but Levi introduced me to some bands too. Have you heard of Bruce Springsteen? Taylor Swift? The Tragically Hip? Red Hot Chili Peppers? They’re all so good. Red Hot Chili Peppers is Levi’s favourite band. I also really like listening to Coldplay. I think they’re my favourite out of all of them. But I also like dancing songs, like the songs that have a good beat. I wasn’t allowed to dance before (it was too sensual and would tempt the men) so now I feel like I should let it all out.

Sincerely, Effie Schaffer

Dance your heart out Effie. Fuck them.

Fuck them.

***

Matthew was antsy. Antsy. The second the plane landed in Calgary, his leg was bobbing up and down to get off the plane, grab his bags, and go straight to Effie’s apartment.

It was the first time since he had lived in Calgary that he wanted to go anywhere but his apartment after a flight back to the city. But Effie had that effect on him these days. He hadn’t seen her in three months – almost four. And he was dying to. FaceTimes and Instagram-messages-formatted-as-emails could only do so much, and satisfy so much in his mind. He needed to see her, physically see her. He didn’t know what had happened to him in the past few months, especially since he and Effie had left on such a good note. No need to rush things. Take the time. But this entire summer, all Matthew could think about was her. All he dreamt about was her. He wondered if it was the same for her too. And he wondered, if it was, if she would admit it.

Once he got his bags from baggage claim, he hightailed it out of the airport and got into a taxi. He gave the driver Effie’s address, and within half an hour, he found himself with his suitcases at the foot of her apartment.

Okay, so maybe he didn’t think this through.

He hauled both of his suitcases up the staircase, most definitely putting chips in the wood steps along the way. It reminded him of moving her in to the place months ago, with him yelling at Sean for half of the day but ending with a slice of pie and his first kiss from Effie. He didn’t know what to expect now, but he knew that whatever he’d get, he’d be happy with. He knocked on her door and waited.

When Effie opened it, she looked confused because she wasn’t expecting anybody. But the second she saw Matthew’s face, her face lit up like a night show of fireworks. “Matthew!” she squealed, jumping on him and wrapping her arms tightly around his broad shoulders as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “What are you doing here?! You weren’t supposed to be back in Calgary for a few days!” the shock was still evident in her voice.

“Just thought I’d take an earlier flight out,” he said casually. “Gonna need to customize to the time change anyway.”

As if an hour was going to be a big shock to his system.

When Effie pulled away, she still kept her hands on his shoulders and he kept his hands at her waist. She’d gained more weight throughout the summer, thankfully, and filled out more. The pair of jeans she was wearing actually fit. The top she was wearing actually fit too – a simple navy-striped long sleeve. He was happy to see that. She’d been so frail when he met her in January. She looked like she had life in her now. “Have you even gone home?” she asked, looking down at his suitcases behind him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Uh…no,” he said awkwardly. “Can I bring them in? I just wanted to see you.”

Effie couldn’t help but gulp at his words. “I just wanted to see you.” Nobody had ever said those words to her before – not even her own mother, she thought. Nobody was ever happy to see her in the cult. But in the real world, Matthew was. “Yeah, come in,” she said, moving to remove her hands from his shoulders to give him more space to haul his suitcases into her entrance. He closed the door behind him when he was done, and that’s when the reality snapped back into Effie’s mind. “Oh no!” she exclaimed worriedly.

Matthew automatically got worried too. “Oh no what?”

“You came home early and I—I didn’t make your snickerdoodles!”

A smile automatically appeared on his face. “Effie, it’s okay,” he said softly, slipping off his shoes. “It’s not like I told you I was coming back to Calgary.”

The worried look didn’t leave her face. “Are you sure? I—I didn’t mean to forget. I actually made one batch but I thought they could be better for you so I was going to make another and—”

“Effie,” he said sternly, placing a hand over hers, which had bunched together nervously. “It’s alright. It’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” she asked one more time.

“I’m positive,” he squeezed her hands gently. “Just gives me another excuse to come over again in a few days, really.”

A small smile crept on Effie’s face as she realized Matthew wasn’t angry. Usually, when something like this happened, the outcome was much different. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore. “Well come in then, come in,” she said, moving further into her apartment so Matthew could follow her. “D’you want something to drink?” she asked, already opening up her fridge.

“Tell me what you’ve been learning in school,” Matthew said instead, leaning against it. “I want to hear everything I missed.”

Effie couldn’t stop talking after that. They had managed to migrate to her couch and she told him about her courses and teachers and homework and assignments and textbooks and her new computer and the classroom and the building and the campus and the Starbucks on campus and the cafeteria she’d eat in and the vending machine she’d buy snacks from and the bench she’d sit on waiting for class and everything. Everything. There was nothing she didn’t talk about. And he listened to it all, listened to all of it intently, not interrupting once, asking follow-up questions and asking her for more more more more more. He couldn’t get enough. He forgot about his water. He forgot about the homemade Rice Krispie she gave him on a plate on her coffee table. He forgot that he was going to suggest they go out to a Starbucks. He forgot that he hadn’t seen her in months and was so desperate to see her that he came here before he even went to his own apartment. All he could think about was here, and all he could pay attention to was what she was saying.

He wanted it like this all the time.

“How’s therapy going?” he asked, finally remembering his water and taking a quick sip from his glass.

“I’m seeing a sex therapist now too.”

That was a bombshell. Matthew tried not to make it show that he was shocked at the news, but she’d said it so casually – like everyone saw a sex therapist. And, like, a therapist was one thing, but a sex therapist was another. He understood why she’d need one, but it was still a shock to him. “Oh yeah?” he tried to say casually.

Effie nodded her head. “I told Dr. Barlow how we’d been kissing,” she said, biting her lip and blushing slightly. “And, um…well, I told her some other things, so she suggested I see the sex therapist to help fix them.”

Fix them? Matthew had no idea what she meant. He moved slightly closer to her on the couch as he furrowed his brows. “What else did you tell her?” he asked softly. Effie averted his gaze, looking away as if she were embarrassed. “Effie, come on, you can tell me,” he urged.

“Well…when we—do you promise not to freak out at me?”

His heart ached. “Of course.”

“When we started kissing—well, when I started kissing you…I liked it a lot,” she said.

“We were kissing each other,” he said, correcting her, because he knew language was important and the way things were phrased was important and he wanted her to know he was 100% in on it too. He wasn’t exactly innocent. He was a willing accomplice. “I was kissing you too. I liked it a lot too.”

Effie nodded her head. “Well…I liked it a lot. But then we had that talk and you left for St. Louis and we were in a good place. Dr. Barlow told me that was very mature of me, and that she was very impressed. But then…”

“But then…”

Effie kept averting his gaze. “Um…but then, well, you weren’t here, and I started to have dreams of us kissing. I’d lean into you and close my eyes and kiss you. And your lips were soft like I remembered. But then it would change. Quickly. And it would hurt. It—it would hurt. And I’d open my eyes and instead of you, it was…Abraham. And I’d get so scared. I’d wake up screaming.”

Matthew’s heart fell in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he was going to be sick. “I made you feel that way?”

“No! No you didn’t,” she shook her head vehemently. “It was only when you left. When you’re—Matthew, no,” her words were jumbled because she had started crying. “When we kissed, I liked it. I liked it so much. But my mind was playing tricks on me.”

“Effie, if I hurt you—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t hurt me at all,” she pressed, her hand extending automatically to grab at his forearm comfortingly. “You could never hurt me Matthew. Ever. I just…” her voice had gotten softer, frailer, more like it had been in January. “I still see him sometimes.”

If Matthew’s heart had fallen into the pit of his stomach before, then now it had just shattered into a billion pieces. “Oh, Effie…” he barely got out.

“I don’t want to see him ever again,” she said.

“C’mere,” he said softly, pulling her body towards his so he could hug her. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and could feel Effie melt into him, her head cradled on his chest. He wanted her to feel as safe as possible with him – he’d wanted that since the beginning. With this new revelation, he now wanted it more than ever. “You’ll never see him again, Effie. I promise you.”

“I know I won’t. I know. This is happening because of what happened to me.”

“When he would hurt you.”

Effie looked up at him, nodding, almost embarrassingly. “I know that he can’t hurt me anymore. But my dreams would take me back to when he did. It wasn’t you, Matthew. You didn’t make me feel that way. I told Dr. Barlow and Dr. Stevenson that. They’re just trying to help me not see him anymore, and move past the things that he did to me. And they’re…they’re trying not to make me feel guilty about something so simple like kissing.”

“You felt guilty about us kissing?” he asked.

“Women couldn’t date, right? So it wasn’t like I was kissing any of the other boys in the cult. We were harlots and sinners if we kissed men, and we were responsible for them straying away from God. My first kiss was on my fake wedding day.”

Matthew could kill them all. He had half the heart to jump into his car and drive to Sheerness so that he could. “I will give you as many kisses as you want if it helps you forget,” he blurted out.

Effie couldn’t help but smile. “Can we start again now? Slowly?”

Matthew smiled slightly. She craned her head up and placed one of her signature chaste kisses on his lips, and he reciprocated readily, the feeling of her lips on his after months of not having them there ranking up there with the best feeling in the world. When she pulled away, her eyes were still closed, but there was a smile on her face. Her prior tears had stained her cheeks. “Hugging you feels nice too,” Effie said, finally opening her eyes.

Matthew smiled. “Well then we’ll start doing a lot of that too.”

***

At the beginning of every hockey season, right before training camp, the Calgary Flames hosted a gala to benefit the Calgary Flames Foundation. The team would set a fundraising goal for the night – often surpassed – and then set one for the season – also surpassed – to give back to the city and community that supported them endlessly, through thick and thin. The gala was unofficially the kickoff to the season. Every member of the team, coaching staff, and head office attended. It was one of Calgary’s biggest events. It was the one night of the year Matthew didn’t mind being out and having to small-talk with hundreds of strangers, because he knew it was all for a good cause and a greater good.

Matthew was forced to wear a tuxedo. All the members of the team were forced to wear tuxedos. He kept fiddling with his bowtie and Mark kept slapping his hand away. Matthew thought they all looked like penguins. He searched around the gala room, already filling up with people. He took his phone out of his pocket.

You guys here yet? he texted Geneviève, knowing that since Elias and Jacob were already here, she and Annica were coming together.

We’re in a taxi. Eyeliner needed to be reapplied because Effie kept crying.

Matthew chuckled to himself, picturing the image of Effie sitting in a chair while Annica and Geneviève fussed over her makeup. Before he could text her back, another text from her came through.

She looks beautiful, by the way.

Matthew was impatient. He kept looking towards the doors even though he was supposed to be pretending to be interested in what these rich people had to say. Levi and Jenna were already there, too, so it really was just him waiting for Effie to arrive. This entire night didn’t start until Effie arrived.

Matthew was in a conversation with someone when he saw her walk through the doors. Annica was wearing a navy blue bodycon dress that showed off her curves, and she looked great. Geneviève was wearing an emerald green midi-length dress with a high slit, high collar, back cut-out, and cap sleeves, and she looked impeccably chic and stylish, like only Geneviève could.

But it was Effie, of course, who looked the best. A bright red dress that fell to her knees, with floral lace and sequins and cape sleeves that covered her otherwise bare arms. She wore a pair of low nude heels, and her blonde bob was styled professionally as a barely-there curl. She looked impeccable. Beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Divine. Exquisite.

“Excuse me,” he said quickly to the man and wife he was talking to, and left Elias alone with them as he made his way through the crowd and towards Effie, Annica, and Geneviève. He pushed past some people gently before finally appearing in front of them. He could see Geneviève smirking the second they saw him, but he locked eyes with Effie. When she saw him in his tux, her breath hitched in her throat. He looked good. “Hi,” he said to Effie breathlessly.

Annica saw the look in his eyes and knew she had to skedaddle out of there. “Where’s Elias?”

“Over there,” Matthew pointed behind him, somewhere in the crowd of four hundred people, as if that answered the question and helped her.

“Thanks,” she left, winking at him as she passed him.

Geneviève was next. “I guess my husband is in the same place?” she asked him.

“Mhm,” he nodded his head quickly.

“Great. You two behave. If I don’t see you, I’ll assume you’re in a broom closet,” she said before disappearing into the crowd of people.

Matthew and Effie hadn’t taken their eyes off each other. Effie thought he looked great in his tux; it was tailored to perfection, and really showed off how thick his body was, but in a good way. She’d felt it when they hugged when he showed up to her place after landing in Calgary, and if she was being honest with herself, she had been thinking about it ever since. She kept thinking about being physical with him, about touching him and hugging and cuddling and doing all the things she couldn’t have done with another man before. And she only wanted to do them with Matthew. Her mind – and now increasingly her body – wanted to do that only with Matthew. With the dress and the makeup and the whole look all together, Matthew was a man possessed. With Geneviève and Annica gone, Matthew couldn’t help but bite his bottom lip to suppress himself from smiling bashfully, like he usually did with Effie. “You look beautiful, Effie,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” she smiled. “This is the second dress I’ve ever worn that has shown off my legs. It’s Geneviève’s. And – if you can believe it – this is the first time I’ve word something red.”

He couldn’t take it anymore. From her hair to her makeup to her dress to her shoes, he just couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He looked around the room quickly before grabbing her hand. “Come with me,” he mumbled.

“Where are we going?”

He dragged her out of the room and into the foyer. There were more people out there, sipping on cocktails and eating hors d’oeuvres and getting checked in, so he kept walking with her behind him down the long foyer that connected all the different hall rooms in the complex together. When it got quieter, and the rush of people were too far away, he led her into a short corridor where a men’s and women’s washroom was. They were far enough away that he knew no-one from the gala would find them.

“Matthew? Is everything okay?” she asked as she watched him close the door behind them.

“Everything’s fine,” he said, his voice strained. “I just…God, Effie, you look so fucking beautiful.”

Effie could pick up on the strain in his voice. She could also see the fire in his eyes as he looked down at her. She didn’t know much about the world, and she knew even less about men, but those things alone were telling her something. Her body was telling her something too, something she’d never heard from it before. Instead of being repulsed by the body in front of her, she was drawn to it. Instead of being scared to touch it, she wanted to feel it all over her. Instead of allowing her mind to take her somewhere else so she didn’t have to focus on pain on hurt or anything else, she wanted to be in the moment and feel everything. “Kiss me, Matthew,” she said. She’d never been so bold in her entire life. She didn’t think she had it in her.

Matthew didn’t need to be told twice. He held her face between his hands, dipped his head, and began kissing her passionately. Effie loved it. It wasn’t a chaste kiss like the kisses they had shared in the past. This kiss was hungry, and told her almost everything she needed to know about Matthew’s feelings.

Her feelings were similar. She wanted to explore them. She wanted to do more.

That was why, when it was Effie who slid her tongue along Matthew’s lips, he stopped in shock. Not that he wanted to – the action was just surprising. He pulled away slightly, making sure it was something she wanted to do. When he saw her open her eyes slowly, she was bringing her hands up, placing them over his. “You can touch me, Matthew,” her voice was barely above a whisper.

He let out a shaky breath. He knew they weren’t exactly gonna hook up in the bathroom or anything, but this was still huge, especially for Effie. “Are you sure?” he asked.

She nodded her head. “You won’t hurt me.”

He dipped down and kissed her again. And he kept kissing her, letting his hands wander to her waist and hips, where he gripped them and pulled them closer to his body. And she kept kissing him, letting her hands wander down his chest and under his tuxedo jacket to his back, feeling the thickness of his body. And for at least a few minutes, they were in their own little world, kissing in the men’s bathroom of a banquet hall, hands all over each other as Matthew probably got lipstick all over his mouth.

Effie was loving it. The feeling of his soft lips on hers was unlike anything she’d ever felt, and his tongue in her mouth, tasting slightly of the alcohol he’d drunk before she got there, was intoxicating to say the least. She felt like it could go on forever. She was pretty sure she would let it go on forever if she could. She was happy, so happy that she was doing this – that she could do this. Two years ago, if she’d even thought about it, she would have been scared of being damned to hell for eternity. Now, she was enjoying it. Now, she wanted to do it all the time. Now, she could—

She could—

She—

Now, it hurt a little.

Now, the lips weren’t as soft.

Now, she could feel a prickly, unkept beard scraping at her skin—

“STOP,” she instinctively pushed the body away, scrunching her face and gulping hard. Before she could see Abraham’s face – before it could appear to her in her mind – she opened her eyes and looked at Matthew.

Matthew.

She saw him staring back at her worriedly and she let out a shaky breath. He knew why she stopped; he didn’t need to be told. “I’m—I’m so—”

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s alright, Effie. We can stop.”

She diverted her eyes from looking at him. She was so embarrassed. “You won’t be mad?” she asked. That was usually how it went for, well…

Matthew put his hand under her chin so he could look her in the eye. “No,” he said, with as much conviction as he could muster. “We can stop whenever you want.”

“I’m so—”

“Do not apologize to me,” he said sternly. She didn’t need to. He needed her to know that. “Never apologize to me for that.”

She bit her bottom lip. “Thank you for stopping.”

“There’s no way in hell I’d keep going.”

Effie nodded. She understood. “At least I’m getting better,” she said. “I didn’t give you a black eye this time.”

Matthew couldn’t help but snort. It released all the tension in the air immediately; even Effie was giggling slightly. “That you did not,” he said, grabbing her hand slightly. “Wanna go back out there? Well, after we get all this lipstick off of me.”

***

The gala was nice. It was formal and the food was decent and even though Matthew basically kept his eye on Effie sitting with Levi and Jenna the entire night, it was nice. He had fun with his teammates. He embarrassed himself on stage for charity. At the silent auction, one of his packages with signed memorabilia went for the second-highest bid. He was proud of what he and the team were able to accomplish in terms of giving back to the community.

But now he had more important things on his mind.

By the time he found Effie again, she was standing in a group with Levi and Jenna, Jacob and Geneviève, and Annica and Elias. It looked like they were chatting about something exciting, so Matthew knew he needed to be there. When Geneviève saw him butt his way in, she smiled. “I was just reminiscing about when Jacob and I met, and how my friends and I went to the pubs in Oxford after our graduation in our robes and Tudor bonnets,” she said, filling him in. “There’s nothing better than showing up to a place severely overdressed and then having the time of your life dancing.”

Matthew looked at Geneviève in her dress. He looked at Annica in hers, and Effie in hers, and Jenna in hers. He looked to his teammates in his tuxedos, and to Levi wearing a form-fitted navy suit. “Wanna go dancing?”

Elias smirked. “The night’s still young.”

***

They ended up at a bar downtown, one that Matthew had been to before but couldn’t really remember exactly what happened (it was his first year in Calgary and he’d just found out hours before that the legal drinking age was only eighteen). The bouncer looked at them all weirdly in their getups but let them in anyway. It was only when they entered that they realized it was frosh week for the University of Calgary, and the bar was full of university students drinking and dancing. The floor was slightly sticky. It was the perfect venue for the goal they wanted to achieve.

“Oh, this takes me back,” Geneviève giggled, looking out at the sea of people. She looked at Annica and Jenna. “Spicy margs?”

Both women nodded. “Spicy margs.”

She looked at Effie. “Have you ever had alcohol?”

“No.”

“Do you want to try it while you’re safe with us?”

Effie nodded.

Geneviève, Effie, and Matthew headed to the bar while the rest of the group went to find a bar table to take over. Matthew made sure Effie got a spot right at the front as he stood directly behind her, his body pressed against hers. Geneviève waved down the bartenders and ordered all the drinks. All the university students clamouring to get a spot at the bar and the attention of the bartenders looked at them weird for their too-fancy clothes. Geneviève didn’t care – it wasn’t like this was her first time doing this. Effie was a little self-conscious, but that soon went away when she saw the drinks being made in front of her.

“Whenever you go out to a bar like this, you always want the bartender to make your drink in front of you. Don’t ever accept a drink from a stranger or if you haven’t seen it made in front of you,” Geneviève cautioned her.

“Okay,” Effie nodded. “What happens if I don’t like the spicy margarita though?”

“Then we’ll get you another drink.”

Once all the drinks were made, they were brought back to the bar table the rest of the group managed to find and everyone began drinking. Effie liked her spicy margarita. Matthew let her take a sip of his beer but she didn’t like that too much. She ordered another spicy margarita. Her body began to feel tingly because of the tequila. The music started to get progressively louder, too, the bass making the floor vibrate. Effie looked out onto the dance floor to see a bunch of people her age dancing – grinding, as Matthew called it at Andrew’s birthday many months ago. She watched them intently, while they were having the time of their lives.

“You okay?” Matthew asked, bending down to ask as she was looking out at the crowd.

“I want to dance but I don’t know how to,” she revealed. “I’m just…looking to see what everyone else is doing. I wouldn’t be comfortable with that grinding.”

Matthew couldn’t help but smile. “Nobody knows how to dance, Effie. We all just move our bodies to the beat of the music.”

The song changed suddenly and it made Geneviève scream at the top of her lungs in excitement. Effie watched as she grabbed her drink and Jacob’s hand and dragged him towards the dance floor as they began to dance together. Levi and Jenna followed, and so did Annica and Elias. The couples weren’t grinding like the university students, but instead danced facing each other, holding hands or swaying back and forth, holding their drinks it their hands and raising them up in the air, miraculously not spilling a thing. She and Matthew were the only ones left at the bar table. “This was their wedding song, I think,” Matthew explained, watching Effie watch Jacob and Geneviève dancing.

“What’s it called?”

“I Wanna Dance With Somebody by Whitney Houston.”

“Levi hasn’t introduced me to that one.”

“Levi isn’t the type to listen to Whitney Houston.”

Effie continued to watch them dance, Geneviève singing the lyrics to Jacob at the top of her lungs. They were so in love with each other, even she could see it, and she barely knew what healthy love was. A part of her wondered what made them love each other so much, and another part of her wondered if she should ask. Was it rude to ask something like that?

“D’you want to dance, Effie?” Matthew asked.

Effie looked up at him. “Do you think people will laugh at me because I don’t know how?”

He shook his head. “There’s so many people and they’re all so drunk, they won’t even notice you.”

She gripped her margarita tighter. There was something to be said about overcoming fears ever since she left the cult, and this could be classified as one of them. But she wasn’t like these university students who were moving their bodies so freely and easily. She was much more restrained – with everything really – but she wanted to actively work to move away from that. Conquer her fears. Do what she needed to do to shed herself from the past. So she nodded her head. “Let’s go.”

Matthew grabbed her hand and led her on to the dance floor, moving his body to the song with his beer still in his hand, doing his best not to spill it everywhere, but especially not on Effie wearing Geneviève’s expensive red dress. Effie watched, moving her feet back and forth awkwardly. She looked up at Matthew for reassurance, only to see him already smiling at her. “You got it, you got it,” he said, moving his feet in a similar way.

“What do I do with my hands?” she asked.

“Just throw ‘em up!” he showed her. She did the same movements, but she couldn’t step or move with the beat of the music. Matthew could tell she was nervous. “Just move your body, Effie. Move it however you want. Doesn’t need to be on beat.”

Effie closed her eyes, trying to get the feel of the song in her, but she lost her groove because it soon ended and another began. This one was even more upbeat – well, it had a better beat – and Effie began to move again.

Feel buried alive This city is airtight Suffocated and lonely in the crowd I'm surrounded by All the screens of their life Screaming in to space to drown them out

Effie not only began to move her feet and hands, but she tried swaying her hips a bit. She liked this beat. She loved this beat. She lost herself completely in it, dancing with no inhibitions. Matthew watched as she let loose, moving her body in tune with the music. Her dancing was unlike anyone else’s around her, and the only thing he wanted to was copy her. It looked a bit ridiculous, but it didn’t matter to Matthew. He’d made himself look more ridiculous than this before. This was nothing.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie opened her eyes to see Matthew. Matthew, who would wait for her. Matthew, who had waited for her.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

“Go Effie! Go Effie!” Annica chanted, coming up beside them with Elias, grooving to the beat of the music. Annica watched Effie moving and followed her movements too – albeit more fluidly – and when Effie looked up and saw Annica, a giant smile took over her face. Annica screamed in excitement and cheered their drinks together before moving with her, beside Matthew, letting him get closest to her.

So hold me tight I just wanna fade out Somewhere we can ship the world away I'm ready to hide Far from the fallout They won't find us in the paradise we'll make

“Woooooooo! You go girl! Get loose!” Geneviève screamed from her other side, approaching them with Jacob beside her who was doing a modified version of the robot. Matthew watched as Effie closed her eyes, going into her own little world, raising her arms and bopping her body to the music. It was the happiest and most carefree he’d ever seen her. He vowed right then and there to take her dancing whenever she wanted to go so she could feel this same way.

I felt down so low Found nowhere to go But I know you wait for me You wait for me So far out of sight Straight into the white But I know you wait for me I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

Effie was feeling it. She loved it. She loved this. She loved the people she was surrounded by. If this was love, she wanted to feel it all the time.

'Cause I've been hypnotized by the lights But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight Yeah, it's taken time to realize But I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

When she opened her eyes again, she saw everyone dancing around her. She stepped closer to Matthew, almost so close that she could feel his body against hers. They moved together to the climax of the song, Matthew looking down at her and smiling.

Free falling from the high I'm following the voice I know Free falling from the high I'm coming home I'm coming back down tonight

In his tuxedo and in her frilly red dress with cape sleeves, surrounded by people. it felt like they were the only ones in the world.

***

“I think I can live a normal life with him,” Effie told Dr. Barlow as she sat in her usual seat in the office, looking down at her hands. She’d already been talking for almost an hour during her session, but she felt the need to get that statement out. Dr. Barlow had the right to know.

“With Matthew?” Dr. Barlow clarified.

Effie nodded her head. Who else would she be talking about? “He’s never once made me feel uncomfortable or unsafe or…like…ashamed of what I went through,” she elaborated.

“That’s a very positive thing,” Dr. Barlow said, her voice steady. “It’s good that you’re thinking about these things, Effie. You’re thinking about your future. You actually see a future for yourself. But how normal do you think a friendship or perhaps even a life with a hockey player can be?” she asked.

Effie shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I barely understand hockey as it is.”

“Well, hockey players don’t exactly live the most conventional of lifestyles. They travel a lot, as I’m sure you know since Levi travels with the team.”

“Yeah…” Effie didn’t know where Dr. Barlow was going with this. “That’s…that’s not the biggest deal to me.”

Dr. Barlow nodded her head, writing something down on her pad of paper. “Have you continued to kiss him since he’s come back?” Effie nodded. “Regularly?”

“Semi-regularly.”

“Have you told Dr. Stevenson?” she asked. Effie nodded again. “Do you still envision Abraham sometimes?”

Effie hesitated before nodding her head. She knew she couldn’t lie. “It’s been getting better though. We kissed for a couple of minutes once before I, um, felt Abraham’s beard. And when he stopped, he didn’t get mad at all. I means it’s progress from when he brushed up against me in bed and I gave him a black eye,” she tried to joke.

Dr. Barlow apparently didn’t find it funny like Matthew had. She just nodded again and wrote on her note pad. “You should tell Dr. Stevenson about that.”

***

“I made another pint of maple pecan ice cream,” Effie told Levi as she handed him a Tupperware full of white chocolate macadamia nut cookies. They were mostly for Jenna – she was craving them. Jenna had been craving a lot of things lately, ever since Effie got her own mixer, anyway. Effie had been experimenting making ice cream. The café was pleased about this as well. The owner was already looking to invest in ice cream storage to be able to serve it. “I’ve found a real gem in you, Effie,” the owner would repeat over and over again to her. Matthew had to stop himself constantly from getting a third bowl on nights he’d come over. He’d tap at his stomach and say “I can’t” but when he’d go and put his bowl in the sink, she’d always see him hesitate before he did so. “Do you want it?”

“Please,” he begged his sister. She moved to open her freezer. “I swear Effie, the best thing Matthew’s ever done was get you that KitchenAid. I’ve been gaining weight ever since.”

Effie smiled. “At least you’re not the hockey player that has to stay in peak physical condition. Matthew’s been complaining that I’m making him pudgy.”

“Thank God.”

“Speaking of…” she began, handing him the pint of ice cream. “Do you think you can teach me about hockey?”

“You mean like the rules and stuff?”

“Yeah. You know, like what’s going on out there whenever I’m at games.”

“Okay,” he nodded, shrugging his shoulder slightly. “Any reason?”

“If I’m going to be surrounded by hockey because of you, then I should learn it, shouldn’t I?” Effie asked rhetorically.

“Sure,” he side-eyed his sister playfully. “But does this have anything to do with Matthew?”

“What if it does?”

Levi smiled. He knew there was something going on between the two of them, regardless of whether or not they wanted to tell him. He liked Matthew, he knew he was a good kid, so it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She could have hooked up with someone way worse. Actually, she could have gone the opposite route of where she currently was (which many former cult members went), which was becoming a hypersexual after being sexually repressed for so many years. Effie was taking her time with it, and that was fine, but if her friendship…or relationship, or whatever she had going on with Matthew was any indication, Levi figured Effie was thinking about it. “I don’t care, Effie. It’s kind of cute, actually.”

“So you’ll teach me?”

“Of course. I’ll have you screaming at the referees in no time.”

***

“So Levi’s teaching me about hockey,” Effie said as she marinated chicken in her kitchen, her phone call with Matthew on speakerphone as she moved around and got her hands dirty.

“He is?”

“Mhm. By the time the home opener comes around, I’ll be able to understand what’s going on,” she revealed.

“I better get you a Tkachuk jersey then.”

Effie smiled bashfully, even though he couldn’t see it. “You don’t want me wearing a Markstrom one like last time?” she joked.

“Effie.”

***

Effie was nervous as she sat in Dr. Stevenson’s office. Not because she was scared, or because she wasn’t a good sex therapist, or because of anything like that. She was nervous to admit to her the thoughts she’d been having about Matthew, even though she knew Dr. Stevenson wouldn’t judge her at all and that it was his job to help her. Help her make peace with these thoughts; help her realize they were completely normal and okay; help her act on them, eventually, in a healthy way. Dr. Stevenson already knew about Matthew – she knew about him from Effie’s very first day.

“My mind may not be ready but my body is physically attracted to him. I don’t know how to…you know, mend the two so that both are on the same page,” Effie admitted after almost an hour. “I want to be with him. I do. I know he won’t hurt me – that he’d never hurt me.”

Dr. Stevenson nodded. “When you were in the People’s Dominion of Christ, there was a huge power imbalance between Abraham, being the prophet and leader, and the followers – you,” Dr. Stevenson began to explain. “This imbalance made it impossible for you to give true consent to sex.”

Effie’s body stiffened. Consent. Geneviève had taught her that term early on. Consent was giving permission for something to happen. Effie had never given her consent to marry Abraham. She’d never given Abraham consent to consummate their marriage. She’d never given Abraham consent to touch her, stroke her, do anything to her. She’d surely never given him consent to impregnate her. “Okay…that makes sense. But I didn’t know I had to give consent. I thought that men could do whatever they wanted with my body. Especially Abraham, since he was the prophet.”

“The institutionalized sexism in the cult is nothing I haven’t heard before. Many victims like yourself have said the exact same thing to me,” Dr. Stevenson said. “You are not alone. There are many people like you, unfortunately. When females are not equally valued because of misogyny, because of outdated traditional gender roles that are disempowering, it makes women like you experience sexual inequality and become more susceptible to leaders who will exploit you.”

“So how do I get it back?”

“Get what back?”

“My agency. My…my…” Effie began to tear up, thinking about all the things she had to endure at the hands of Abraham – literally and metaphorically. “How do I get my mind back? My body is finally mine, and I can do what I want with it, but I don’t feel like I have my mind back yet if I’m kissing Matthew but then all of a sudden I remember the feeling of Abraham’s beard or that I can’t sit or lie at the foot of a bed because that’s where…”

Dr. Stevenson took a deep breath. “One way to do so is to embrace, appreciate, and celebrate your sexual self. That is what I am trying to help you do here. You need to understand that your capacity for pleasure is not a luxury, and it is not shameful either. It is a necessity for a well-balanced and emotionally happy life. As a woman – as a survivor of sexual abuse, of rape – you should take a stand for your own sexual healing and embrace sexual pleasure as something that will help heal you.”

Effie nodded her head, more tears escaping her now, but she understood. She knew what she needed to do, and the mental shift she needed to go through. Touching could be pleasurable for the woman. Sex could be pleasurable for the woman. Not everything had to hurt. Not everything had to come with pain.

“I’m not saying this is going to happen tomorrow for you, Effie,” Dr. Stevenson continued. “I’m not saying it’ll happen next month, or year. It happens quickly for some, and for others it can take years. Everybody has their own timeline – you included. You have to remember that your trauma comes with complex PTSD. If you set goals for yourself, like you already have been doing, with a person you are comfortable with – Matthew – your sexual self will grow with your physical self and your mental self. When those three parts of you are aligned, they will all grow stronger, and make you stronger.”

Effie kept nodding. The words were permeating through her like lightning. “I’m going to try. I’m really going to try.”

“Just stop when you need to stop. Go when you want to go. You’ll get there, Effie.”

***

“Did you learn about gay people in the cult?” Matthew asked as he prepared Brokeback Mountain on the TV while Effie finished pouring the popcorn into the bowl.

“Not in a good way, if that’s what you’re really asking,” she said from the kitchen. “You know the stupid Bible verse. The prophet called it an abomination. But it was one of the first things that Levi and Jenna taught out of me when I first went to live with them, because Jenna’s brother is gay and has a husband and two kids. Levi didn’t want me to be shocked if I ever saw them.”

Matthew didn’t know that about Jenna. But he nodded his head and watched Effie bring the bowl of popcorn over. “Have you met them?”

Effie nodded. “They came over a few months after I arrived. They were so incredibly kind,” she explained. She handed the popcorn bowl to Matthew to take before folding her leg and collapsing onto the couch beside him, facing him. “It really…it really messed with me. I mean, it’s not like I wanted to think that way. It was what I was conditioned to think. I didn’t know better. And I felt so bad, because I knew they knew, but they were so understanding. From the moment they walked through the door they were so nice and they didn’t hold it against me,” she explained.

Matthew could only listen. And though he listened through her entire explanation, he was hung up on one thing. “You should stop calling him the prophet,” he said suddenly, not really thinking it through but needing to get it out. “He wasn’t a prophet. He wasn’t even your husband. He was just some guy.”

Effie looked stunned by what he was saying. She’d never considered that before. She was so used to calling him the prophet that the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind – ever. “You’re right,” she said, unable to say anything else. It was such a simple sentiment but it held so much power. “I…you’re right, Matthew.”

He smiled slightly. “Wanna start the movie?”

Effie nodded. Matthew extended his arm to move the bowl to the side, and his other arm moved upwards slightly, signalling to Effie that it was already to cuddle. She moved closer to him, snuggling into his side and letting both legs drape over his thigh. Only then did he let his arm down, draping it over her back. Effie looked up at him. “Is that okay?” she asked.

“It’s perfect,” he whispered, placing the bowl of popcorn between their bodies so they had equal access to it. “You comfortable?”

“Mhm.”

“Effie, are you comfortable?” he repeated.

She knew why he was repeating himself. She looked up at him and smiled. “The comfiest I’ve ever been.”

Matthew pressed play. From that moment, Effie’s eyes were glued to the screen, hooked on the love story unfolding in front of her. For Matthew, he was more hooked on watching her than the movie, but he kept up slightly. At some point during the movie – Matthew didn’t pay attention when – Effie’s hand settled on his abs, and it was all he could think about for the rest of the night. He was acutely aware of its placement. Then, the sadder scenes started happening, and he’d feel the hand grip his t-shirt, and his body would seize up. She’d soften it, but then grip again when something emotional would happen. Then the scene where Ennis visits Jack’s parents after his death occurred, and Ennis was let into Jack’s childhood bedroom and found his old shirt. Matthew watched as Ennis smelled it and clutched it against his chest.

Then he heard Effie let out a sob.

She gripped him tighter than she ever had. He tightened his hold on her too, shifting slightly and letting his shirt ride up against the couch, just so she could cuddle into him even more than she already was. He could feel her hand on his skin now, gripping at his side tenderly as the tears still rolled down her face. He took the opportunity to place his hand in the small sliver of space where her shirt had ridden up too, squeezing and massaging it gently to comfort her. “Y’okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper.

She didn’t respond. Her eyes were glued to the TV. As the movie continued, Matthew left his hand exactly where it was, and Effie left her hand exactly where it was. Holding each other. Clutching each other.

When the movie ended, Effie didn’t move for a long time. Not even when the credits began rolling on the screen. “Are you okay, Effie?” Matthew repeated his question from earlier, albeit a bit louder and more pronounced this time.

“I think my heart is broken,” she finally let out, bringing the hand that was squeezing his side to her face so she could wipe her tears away. “That was beautiful. Beautiful.”

“It was,” Matthew agreed. It was very obvious the movie was affecting her a lot.

Effie moved so she could look up at Matthew, craning her head and bringing her hand up to cradle his face so she could kiss him. When their lips connected, Matthew could feel the wetness of her cheeks. “I can’t believe I was ever scared of that,” she whispered against his lips when she pulled away.

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is what you think now.”

Effie nodded. He always knew the right things to say. He was helping her change her past and way of thinking one way or another. “I think I want to kiss you again.”

Matthew kissed her. And even as the credits finished, neither of them would let go of the other.

***

The Calgary Flames home opener at the Saddledome had Effie buzzing with excitement. She wore a brand new pair of jeans for the occasion, and arrived at the game with Jenna, Annica, and Geneviève. As was normal for them, Annica was wearing her tried and true Lindholm jersey, while Geneviève was sporting a Markstrom one. Jenna wore Levi’s old Iginla jersey.

Effie had Tkachuk sprawled across her back.

“Do you want to go down near the ice and wave?” Annica asked, and Effie nodded her head. “It might get a big crowded, so stay near me.”

The ladies descended down the steps, joining the pretty big crowd that had formed against the glass beside Jacob’s net. A bunch of kids were up against the glass with homemade signs, their parents near them taking pictures. Some men around Effie’s age were there too, drinking beers with their jerseys on and taking videos on their phones. Other girls her age were there too, taking pictures of all the players. “Can you see Matthew?” Geneviève asked as she looked down at Effie.

“He’s over there,” she smiled, pointing at Matthew across the ice. He was practicing his stickhandling, in such deep concentration that he didn’t look up for a while. When he finally did look up, happy with his stickhandling, he began skating around the ice, bumping into Noah and Andrew along the way.

Effie waved excitedly.

Matthew stopped when he saw her. Even though there was glass streaked with puck shots and some distance between them, she could see him smile from ear to ear, his mouth guard hanging out. He waved back, his hockey glove looking like a giant bear claw.

“God you two are insufferable,” Geneviève said jokingly.

Matthew continued to skate around, shooting the puck at the net, each of them going in. Geneviève noticed all of his glances back at them, and the small smile constantly on his face as he went about his drills. When the practice was almost over, she kept an eye intently on him, watching as he skated over. She knew what he wanted to go. “Go closer,” she said to Effie, urging her with a little nudge.

Effie took her cue and stepped down, closer to the glass. Matthew had flipped a puck over the glass towards a kid with a sign for him. Now, as Effie watched, he pointed to her and made sure everyone around knew who he was pointing to. She turned around slightly, pointing to his name on her back. He smiled wide and flipped another puck, perfectly, right into her hands.

Geneviève watched as the young women around them eyed Effie suspiciously.

***

“Matthew!” Effie squealed once he finally emerged from the locker room, his suit back on and his tie tied loosely around his neck. She hugged him excitedly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as he reciprocated. “Great game!”

“Thanks, Effie.”

“And your goal!” she continued. Now that she actually understood hockey, and now that she wasn’t scared about every little thing around her at the arena, she could actually enjoy the experience and know what was going on. “What a great goal!”

He had the puck in his pocket, and had planned to give it to her, but right now his mind was elsewhere. Seeing her in his jersey at the beginning of the game did things to him, and although he was able to focus throughout the sixty minutes, now that he saw her again with his name sprawled across her back, his mind was right where it was the moment he first saw her that night. “Wanna come over mine and watch a movie?” he asked, his voice low so no-one else would hear.

To his complete surprise, Effie nodded her head immediately. “Of course.”

They left inconspicuously without saying goodbye to anyone.

***

Effie broke down during the first scene.

Matthew had changed out of his suit and into a sweater and track pants, and Effie had taken off the jersey and hung it up in his front closet. They cuddled on the couch together, exactly as they’d done when they watched Brokeback Mountain, and Matthew pressed play on Netflix. The first scene was the main character, Esty, packing up her most valuable belongings, including a small picture of her grandmother, and running away from her Hasidic community. All before the opening credits. When the show’s opening played, he heard Effie let out a loud sob.

“Hey hey hey,” he cooed, watching as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth to try and control herself, but there was no use. Tears were streaming down her face. “It’s alright, it’s alright.”

“It’s me,” she said softly, through tears. “It’s me.”

“C’mere,” he said, pulling her even closer against his body, if that was possible. Every inch of her was touching him now, with his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he hoped that brought her at least some reprieve. She was wiping her face with her hands, and he could see her chest heaving, though he could tell she was taking deep breaths to calm herself down. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. “We can stop it or watch so—”

“No,” she interjected sternly, looking up at him. “I can do this.”

“I know you can Effie, but—”

“No buts. I can watch this,” she was adamant.

Matthew lost. He knew he would. He bit his bottom lip and nodded his head. “Will you promise to tell me if it becomes too much?”

Effie nodded. She snuck her hand underneath his sweater to feel his skin again, and she – surprisingly – game him a quick peck before laying her head on his chest again. “Press play.”

Matthew kissed her forehead, then the crown of her head, then laid his cheek there before pressing play.

Effie broke down again less than ten minutes later, when the grandmother was listening to an old German song, An Die Musik sung by Elisabeth Scwartzkopf. And again, when Yanky was searching her childhood bedroom and found her personal items and her music. The last scene she cried to was near the end, when Esty’s biological mother showed up and gave her documents to prove German citizenship “just in case you need somewhere else to go”. When the episode ended, Effie was shedding her last tears. Matthew paused Netflix before the episode could switch over. “You okay?”

Effie nodded, despite her tears. “I know it’s different religions, but a lot of things were just, like, so similar,” she explained. “The…the beginning brought me back.”

“I can only imagine,” Matthew whispered.

“The grandmother crying listening to that beautiful song. Esty’s music. Her mom still looking out for her despite abandoning her. It all just…it all just really hit home.” Matthew nodded. It was the only thing he could do. If Effie wanted to elaborate, she could, but he wasn’t going to force her. Instead, he shifted her body so she was sitting more in his lap as opposed to right beside him. She steadied her breathing, and her tears had stopped. “When I went to live with the proph—Abraham, as his wife,” she began, “he made me leave everything at home besides my clothes. I couldn’t see my favourite things unless I was visiting, and even then, I’d never be alone in my room for more than two minutes because he knew I’d be reminiscing, and he said it was a sin to dwell on my past life when I should have been looking forward to my future as his wife and as a mother to his son of God.” She paused, biting her bottom lip; Matthew could tell she was remembering it all vividly in her mind. “After a year my mom threw out all my things anyway. Because she agreed with him.”

“What did you have? What were your things?” he asked, sad and angry and disturbed all at once.

“Just simple things. Nothing special,” she said. “My…my own Bible that I’d been using since I was a kid. A journal I had where I recorded my favourite verses. A doll I had when I was a kid that another member made for me. Just stupid things.”

“They’re not stupid things if they were special for you,” Matthew said. “I can’t believe your mom threw them all out. My mom has kept my kindergarten paintings.”

Effie smiled slightly. “That’s because you have a good mom who knows how to be a mother.”

Matthew digressed. Effie obviously hadn’t meant Chantal yet, but Matthew talked about her enough that Effie knew a lot about her. “I know I keep saying this, but you’re so strong, Effie.”

“It’s a lot to overcome,” she whispered, nodding her head. They sat for a while in comfortable silence, just being with each other. Matthew’s arms were still wrapped around her. Effie was still in hip lap, looking at him. “Will you kiss me, Matthew?”

Matthew smiled slightly before dipping his head down and capturing her lips in a kiss. It wasn’t long before – once again – Effie took the initiative to slip her tongue into his mouth. There was kissing – so much kissing – and Matthew took it upon himself to start to lay Effie down on the couch, his body looming over hers slightly and—

“Stop,” Effie said, her hands on his chest, pushing him off her slightly. Matthew immediately stopped and moved away from her. Her chest heaved up and down once before she pushed herself up. “I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize,” he said. “Did you see him again?”

Effie didn’t answer. “I think it happened because we laid down,” she said, her lips puffy from all the kissing.

Matthew was catching his breath. He was thankful that he was wearing track pants or else Effie would see how…excited he’d become. “How about you stay on top then?”

She furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“We—we can stay upright,” Matthew explained. “You can sit on my lap if you want…facing me. Or you could just…you know, like, sit…” he was losing his words.

Effie looked confused. Nervous. Like she didn’t know what to think. Like she was picturing the scenario in her head and couldn’t really make sense of any of it. “W—Women are allowed to do that?” she asked softly. Matthew couldn’t speak; he could only stare at her flabbergasted. He nodded his head slightly, and Effie thought about it. How women could be ‘on top’. What that would look like. What that would entail. “C…Can you—can you show…” she was too embarrassed to even be asking.

“C’mere,” he said, extending his hand. She put her hand in his and he pulled her towards him. “Put your one leg over here,” he said, patting to the space on the other side of him. She did so slowly. “And your other leg goes here,” he explained, and she did the same movement, “and now you can just sit on my lap.”

Effie took a deep breath as she lowered herself down until she could feel his thighs as her seat. Both she and Matthew had barely blinked the entire time during his simple act of showing her how to straddle him, but she had never done it before (and it wasn’t like she would have been allowed to), and so everything about it was new to her. Now, she was face-to-face with him, her hands resting on his chest, his hands resting near the bend in her knees. “This is new,” she said.

“Are you comfy?” he asked. She nodded. “D’you like it?” he asked again.

“It’ll take some getting used to,” she admitted. “But I can see it being nice.”

Being nice. Matthew couldn’t help but grin. “It’ll be nice. Trust me.”

Effie nodded. She did trust Matthew. So when she went in to continue their kisses, it was nice, and it was beautiful, and it wasn’t so bad anymore. Which is why, when Matthew’s hands moved from her knees up her thighs, it was okay. When his hands squeezed at her flesh through her pants before going higher, it was okay. When his hands moved to her hips and pulled her even closer, it was okay.

It was okay.

298 notes · View notes

byunbaekby · 4 years

Text

title — a clouded fate pairing — badboy!mark lee x female reader featuring — lucas wong/wong yukhei, johnny seo, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta (mentioned), lee donghyuck (mentioned) word count — 17.2k overall warnings — extreme drug use, drug dealing, alcohol use, language, religion, addiction, drug overdose, vomiting, one explicit smut scene smut warnings — fingering, protected sex (stay safe, always!), high sex, corruption kink for like 0.2 seconds, degradation collab — bad boy bingo collab, link here lyrics inspiration — “call it quits, call it destiny.” bruno major, easily ; “gotta stay high all the time, to keep you off my mind.” tove lo, habits writing playlist — link here

author’s message — oh my gosh, it’s finally here! this has been a work in progress basically ever since early summer, when i started writing on this blog. this is one of my favorite pieces i’ve ever written, but not because writing it came easy to me; quite the opposite. i scrapped and rewrote this three times, consulted many people for their opinions because i simply didn’t think that it was good. a few thank you’s: my babe @jensungf for reading the first draft when it was at barely 5k, the lovely @ncteaxhoe for reading it at 7k and also the night i finished it, @taempteng the writing god for proofing it for me, and my amazing @starlit-jeno for getting me through everything. also thank you @legendnct for hosting this collab! it’s finally at a place where i am happy and very very proud of what i’ve written. i hope you all read and enjoy!

—DAY ONE.

The ice cold water thrown over him shocks Mark awake from his post-high sleep.

“What the hell, man?” He exclaims, wiping the water from his face as he sits up in his bed, soaked t-shirt sticking to the curve of his clavicles. His eyes meet the source of the intrusion: his roommate and best friend Lucas, holding a now empty pitcher.

“Dude. It’s past noon. Wake up.”

Lucas’ passive words only make Mark furrow his eyebrows in annoyance. “Shut the fuck up bitch, I’m awake.”

“Someone’s feisty today.” Lucas retorts, tossing Mark a towel as he swings his legs over the bed. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he recognizes his best friend’s chastising tone in his diluted ears. “When did you get back last night? What were you doing?”

“Calm down,” Mark groans, the volume of Lucas’ voice beginning to hurt his head. Running a hand through his now wet hair, he responds, “I was smoking with Yuta. Got back around three in the morning.”

“Yuta,” mumbles Lucas. “You know, I don’t like him. You’re always with him, getting high or something. Exams start soon, and you’re not planning to study at all? You’ve been high every day for what, like, the past two weeks?”

This early morning lecture is enough to cause Mark’s irritation to spike. Since when is Lucas so nitpicky? Last time he checked, Lucas enjoys partying just as much as he does. Sometimes, even more than Mark himself. “Fuck, are you my roommate or my mom?”

“I’m your best friend, is what I am. I’m worried about you. All you do is party, get high, and sleep. When was the last time you even ate?” Before Mark can even think back to answer that, Lucas continues, “You’ve been like this since you broke up with Y/N, and—”

Mark cuts him off. “Don’t say her name.”

“You’re hurting, Mark. And this isn’t the right way to handle it.”

“Oh, so you take one psychology course and you think you’re an expert or something,” Mark scoffs.

This seems to stunt his roommate for a second, before he sighs looking down at the image of his best friend sitting on the edge of his bed, gaunt eyes and all. The last time he saw his friend looking so pitiful was when his dad had passed. “I’m just worried about you. You should let me be, sometimes,” replies Lucas quietly.

“I’m an adult,” says Mark, which causes Lucas to scoff and respond, “Then act like one.” Annoyed, Mark stands and instead takes a seat at his desk chair.

The taller male speaks up once again, starting to tear off Mark’s bed sheets that are now wet. “You need to stop. This isn’t good for you. Stop the drugs and tell Johnny you’re done. Study for your finals. Get your act together, stop acting like an idiot, and go get her back.”

When he finishes stripping the sheets and looks up, Mark’s head is in his hands. “It’s not that easy.”

“You love her.”

“But that doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” Mark finally says as he looks up, voice raised in frustration at both the situation and the fact that his best friend is calling him out for it. “We can’t be together,” he declares. “I’m only going to ruin her. She’s good. I’m bad. She has a future. I don’t. She’s everything I’m not and I can’t mess it up for her. Not after... Not after—” Lucas cuts his friend off, sensing that he’s about to start hyperventilating.

“I know. What happened, you can’t change it. It was your fault. But don’t say you’re not meant to be together. Nothing’s going to change the past. You broke up. But nothing’s going to bring you back together but yourself.”

Mark stares at Lucas with tired, red-rimmed eyes, wondering when his tall goofy friend had grown so much. Has everything around him changed, matured, while he stayed the same?

“How do I do that?” He finally relents.

“Make yourself good enough for her. Start with the drugs. Stop doing them.”

He knows the truth in that statement, but doesn’t want to acknowledge it. It’s a lot easier said than done. With no words to say, Mark stands and starts to walk past his friend toward the bathroom. On the way out, he accidentally kicks his guitar, on the floor propped on the wall. “Fuck,” he curses, looking down at the old wooden thing.

Lucas follows him out as he leaves the room, and Mark steps into the bathroom. Opening the mirror cabinet, he pulls out his prescription bottle which shakes with noise. Silently he pops a pill into his mouth and swallows it with a handful of tap water. It’s probably a bad idea on an empty stomach, but he’ll eat whatever Lucas is making right after.

“That includes the Xanax, Mark!” Lucas’ voice calls from the kitchen.

“Baby steps,” he responds, staring endlessly into the pitiful character watching him in the mirror.

—THE FIRST NIGHT

It isn’t his first party, but it’s his first college party. There’s a big difference.

The scale is larger, the alcohol more plentiful. And more importantly, the shame of being under the influence is nonexistent. His ziploc of kush feels heavy in his pocket, but he knows he’ll feel lighter with its effect later on. School’s only been in session a week, yet Mark’s already decided he likes university more than high school.

He hasn’t smoked yet, but clearly others have, from the haze wafting from room to room. The music is loud, the air is musty, and there’s a cloud of visible smoke surrounding a group of people in the corner. He can smell it now, the familiar scent relaxing him in a new environment.

He’s about to venture out to said group, catching Lucas’ ashy gray hair (a horrible decision, really) sticking out from its inhabitants, but then something catches his eye.

In a room of dark gray smoke and purple LED lights, a white dress catches his attention. He turns his head and, faded by the blurred intensity of the smoke, there you are. Leaning with your back against the wall, alone. You’re not doing much, just standing there in your awkward lonesome looking entirely out of place while swirling the contents of your red cup in your hand. With seemingly no move to drink it, you’re staring blankly into said cup, and Mark stares blankly at you. The white fabric of your dress seems to vividly attract the iridescent purple lights of the party, leaving you to stand out in the massive crowd. Though from the way you stand out from the crowd, it seems that that’s the last thing you want to do; you’d rather blend into the scene.

But you don’t. You’re a beacon of white light in the gray bleakness of the party, and Mark contemplates his next action. He had promised Lucas that he’d be his wingman to try and win over Yuqi. But there’s something about you that pulls him.

Oh well, he muses to himself as he slides across the room toward you. It’s not his fault Lucas needs a wingman to talk to girls, and he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he starts, trying to make himself heard above the music. “You’re staring at that thing like you need a refill.”

At the sound of his voice you look up as though suddenly startled. Then your eyes land on him and Mark’s not entirely sure if he’s sane, but you relax. “No thanks,” you respond politely. “I don’t drink.”

“Really?” Mark glances at his red Solo cup, half filled with some sordid mixture of vodka and Fanta that Doyoung had given him earlier.

“Is that strange?” You ask curiously as he makes move to lean on the wall next to you. Except rather than lean his back to it, he presses his shoulder to the wall to face you.

“A bit.” Mark says as he tilts his head back, pressing the red cup to his lips as he downs the rest of the liquid in his cup.

“Maybe. I’ve learned that there are more people who drink in college than people who don’t… I guess I fall into the second category.” When he finishes his drink, he tosses it over his shoulder.

“Nah,” he says in response. “I don’t really drink either. Only occasionally. I’m already a mess with the weed, imagine how much I’d be if I was an alcoholic.” He nearly expects you to laugh at his lame attempt at being playful, but he’s met with silence. Still, he doesn’t miss the way your eyebrows quirk slightly upward at his words. Right now, dark hair tousled and dark ripped jeans decorating his legs, Mark thinks he looks pretty good. But you don’t seem to be as interested as girls in the past.

“You smoke…” Your words trail and Mark finds himself enraptured by the form of your lips as you talk. His mind flies, but you continue, “How’s that like?”

He shrugs. “It’s nothing, really. Just fun. I have some right now if you want,” he says, patting his jean pocket.

“Oh, no,” you immediately recoil, as if it were preposterous. Immediately your eyes widen and you shake your head at him. “Not-not that people who do it are bad or anything! It’s just… not my thing.”

If you didn’t drink or enjoy any substances, what were you doing here? He asks this aloud.

“My roommate dragged me,” you explain. “We’ve only been living together for a week since the year started but she’s… something else. I’ve seen her smoke more than I’ve seen her study.”

You almost sound scared. This causes a laugh to leave his lips, and yours. He’s finding, in the mere two minutes of conversation you’ve made, that you are very different from the girl he thought you were across the room. You were indeed like your dress that attracted him: bright, pure, and comfortable.

And he wants you.

Your silence brings about Mark’s introduction. “I’m Mark, by the way.” His hand stretches out to you and you stare for a second.

“Y/N.” You place your hand in his, and from the jolt he feels in his heart, the first of its kind, that is the first time that Mark Lee believes in the existence of fate.

—FIVE HOURS CLEAN.

If someone had told Mark in his freshman year of high school that he would become a drug dealer in college, he would have directed them to his father’s church and told them to pray a bit.

Yes, prior to his entrance to adulthood and the cruel, cruel world, Mark Lee was a church boy. A good boy. He did well in school, dedicated his weekends to church and playing basketball with his boys. Up and down the high school halls, his signature laugh could be heard at any moment he wasn’t in class.

Then the summer before his senior year, Pastor Lee passed from cancer and Mark’s boisterous laughter became a long forgotten sound.

It was two weeks after his dad’s funeral that he met Donghyuck, a boy with shady eyes who offered him some kush. Just want to try it, Mark had tried to reason with his conscience when he took that first hit behind the school. Then he fell into the fatal world of drugs and partying. Lucas had been there since their junior high days, sad to see his friend fall so poorly, and he had forced Mark to get his shit together for graduation that year. Barely.

So yes, he was once the bright eyed boy he always wanted to be, who read the Bible front to back and wouldn’t have known how to roll a joint, but that was fantasy. He wasn’t that anymore. He’s a college student trying to get along with the little money he can make from selling weed and other things. He had first gotten into this when he met Johnny Seo, two years above him who could tell that Mark was struggling to make tuition and rent with a job at McDonald’s. Now Johnny has graduated and Mark is still doing his dirty work for him.

That’s exactly what he’s doing now, standing outside Taeyong’s house a little past 6PM with a pouch of kush in his bag.

It’s easy money, but that never calms his nerves.

Even when the door opens to reveal Taeyong, shirtless and red hair in disarray, Mark doesn’t stop bouncing his foot in worry. His restlessness isn’t lost on Taeyong, who had obviously just woken up. “It’s 6PM,” Mark says, eyebrow raised at his appearance.

“I was up all night working on a track.” Taeyong’s eyes flicker to Mark’s bouncing foot. “You’re bouncier than normal,” he comments as he counts his bills in his hand.

“Haven’t had my fix today.” Mark explains simply as the older male hands over a wad of cash. As he counts it silently, Taeyong points his thumb over his shoulder to his living room.

“Wanna come in and hit some?”

Mark looks up at his offer and sighs inwardly. It would be rather easy to just give in and smoke a bit with someone he trusted, and he wouldn’t even be paying for the weed. He’s tempted. After weeks of being stoned nearly every day, he’s starting to itch for a fix. But Lucas’ gruff voice rings in his mind and he knows that if he gives in, only five hours in, he’ll never be able to live with himself. So for now he does it for Lucas, but maybe in time he’ll see that it was for himself after all.

“I’m good.” Mark nearly shoves the pouch of green into Taeyong’s grasp, wanting to be away from it as soon as possible. The red-haired recipient only blinks.

“You’re giving it up or something?”

“Or something,” mumbles Mark sullenly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“That’s good,” Taeyong declares after a short silence. Mark looks up, meeting Taeyong’s suddenly sincere eyes. “Good for you. I really couldn’t believe that you got into that stuff with Johnny’s crowd anyways.” Mark only shrugs in response. He’d long since stopped deliberating over that. This is his life now. “Still doing music?”

“In name, yeah, I’m still a music major. But I don’t have time to play.” The last time he touched his guitar was this morning when he had kicked it. The last time before that… he doesn’t know if he can’t remember due to a marijuana induced haze or if it’s because it really has been that long.

Taeyong continues. “You know, you don’t have to do this stuff. You’re a talented guy, you’re strong. If you could dedicate yourself to your music like you do to dealing, you wouldn’t need to deal.”

This brings about a sigh from Mark. Who is Taeyong to tell him what to do, anyways? Last time he checked, he was the customer, not Mark. “You all make it sound so easy.”

“Trust me. You can do it.”

—THE FIRST KISS

The first time Mark kisses you, it’s cold outside.

He’s walking you back to your sharehouse, down the streets of town, when he asks, “Be honest with me and tell me if that date sucked.”

It’s been a couple weeks since the two of you first met that fated night at Doyoung’s party, and you’ve only now allowed him to take you out on a date. He doesn’t know that it’s your first. Well, in some ways, it’s his also.

Mark’s been on a few dates, sure, but those all ended up with him getting his dick wet in the dark parking lot of a Burger King or something. He’d normally take them out for fast food, and finish with the usual fun stuff in his back seat. This time it’s… different. Not only does he figure that you wouldn’t be down for that type of date, but something in him wants it to be different. The only problem is he doesn’t know how to plan a good date.

He still took you out to get McDonalds’, but instead of retreating to the backseat, he drove the two of you to the movie theatre. It was probably a dumb choice of him in hindsight, deciding to watch an action movie, but something about the way you hid your face into his neck when one of the characters got punched out made him smile.

“No, it wasn’t… bad,” you respond, swinging your interlaced hands. You had surprised him earlier when you had grabbed his hand upon exiting his car, curling your fingers together.

“You’re lying,” he sighs.

“No, I’m not. Really,” you reassure him as the two of you approach the door of your home. After all, how can you have a bad date when you’ve never been on a date before? You have nothing to compare it to. “I had a good time. Actually… it was my first date.”

Mark blinks, having not expected that to be so. A groan leaves his lips as his free hand comes up to run through his hair. “Oh god, and I ruined it.”

“No, no, it was perfect. I wouldn’t change it for anything.” You smile a sickeningly sweet, charming smile at him, and he sighs. You’re too good for a guy like him.

He’s beyond surprised actually—even though you know of his habits, his hobby of wasting time and rolling joints, you haven’t run away like others. And he likes you. A lot. Even though everything tells him that what he does is bad for you, he still wants you. You’re a comfortable presence in his life.

“You know,” you suddenly start. Mark looks up, intrigued. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

He wonders if the surprise on his face is painfully evident. “Really? Like, ever?”

His question is met with a shake of your head, and he blinks. So you’ve never drank or smoked. That, he can believe. But the fact that you’ve never kissed anyone? Sometimes… you shock him with your boldness. Like earlier when you grabbed his hand and at your first meeting when you had asked for his phone number before he could. But in some moments like now, he realizes just how the duality of your personality comes into play.

“Why’s that?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, it never really felt right,” you explain as the two of you approach your doorstep. As he escorts you up the steps and to your front door, he furrows his brows deeper. Why were you telling him this?

“Does it feel right, now?” He asks softy, gaze flickering to your interlaced hands as he turns to face you. His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek, the touch soft despite the callused skin of his hands.

“Yes,” you respond gently, simpering smile on your roseate tiers.

The smile on your face is sweet and pure, two words that Mark isn’t.

A flood of relief shows on Mark’s face, and you bite down on your lower lip as excitement bubbles in your stomach. “Can I kiss you?” A response quickly follows. For some reason he can’t quite figure out, you let him into the maze that is you. Despite the leather jacket, his messy hair, and the lingering smell of weed on his clothes, you want him just as much as he wants you. Even though you both know that he isn’t the type of guy that you normally like, the type of guy that your mother would approve of, you trust him. It’s bewildering to him.

Then he guides you to him. Within seconds his lips are on yours, and you melt into him. It’s surely not Mark’s first kiss but it feels like it. The initial awkwardness, then the heat on his cheeks as you both fall into a rhythm. It feels right, like it was meant to be, just as Mark had hoped.

You’re like the kind of irreplicable drug that Mark has sought after for years. The kind that brings a euphoric high which burns his lungs and twists his stomach, but in all the right ways.

—29 HOURS CLEAN.

The smell filling the kitchen leads Lucas to scrunch his nose in distaste when he exits his room. “Dude, what the hell is that smell?”

His answer lies in the pan on the stove and Mark standing in the kitchen, wielding a wooden spoon. Clad in only basketball shorts, he looks absolutely foreign to the environment. Lucas sighs. “Please tell me you’re not boiling crack right here in our kitchen.”

The face the Korean makes is scandalized. “What—no, what the fuck? It’s mapo tofu. I’d be insane to try and make crack cocaine.” He adds under his breath, “In the apartment.”

Lucas leans back against the counter, cocking an eyebrow. “Then why are you cooking mapo tofu of all things? I haven’t seen you eat anything but ramen and eggs probably since we moved in here. And—put on a shirt if you’re cooking, or an apron at least. You look like a caveman.”

“Well,” sounds Mark with a roll of his eyes at his friend’s expected lecturing. “I had a shirt on, but I spilled some spicy shit on it and took it off. And I,” he pauses, turning off the stove. “I thought we could eat your favorite food together before we head out to Hendery’s party. You know, as a… sorry for being a bitch yesterday apology.”

The taller man narrows his eyes, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to make sense of his best friend’s words. “So you… decided to make my favorite food because you felt bad that I had to wake you up and take care of your shit?”

“I guess, yeah.”

Lucas laughs, a deep sound, whilst shaking his head. “Dude, I’ve been doing that since middle school and you’re only apologizing now?”

Mark purses his lips, making a face of annoyance. “Better late than never.”

“I guess. But sorry, I wouldn’t want to eat your mapo tofu anyways. Smells more like my week’s laundry than food. Maybe next time just order from that Chinese place around the corner that I actually like,” advises Lucas.

A pitiful laugh leaves Mark’s lips. “Duly noted.”

“And anyways, I’m not going to Hendery’s party. I have plans.” This causes Mark to finally take a good look at his friend. He’s normally well-dressed, but tonight he looks even better, a little too fancy for the typical college frat party. Before Mark can even question what these other plans are, Lucas explains, “I have a date with—”

“Yuqi,” finishes Mark for him. “Figured.” Lucas grabs his wallet on the counter, nodding before tucking it into his pant pocket. “Is that why you haven’t been partying with us? Or why you’ve suddenly been on this, ‘Mark, sobriety is key’ rant?” Mark questions, lowering his voice to imitate that of his roommate’s. At Lucas’ silence, Mark scoffs. “Dude, your relationship is so fucked up, how many times are you guys going to try to make it work when it doesn’t?”

All that leaves Lucas is a sigh, but Mark continues. “This is what, your third breakup so far? And fourth time trying to make it work?”

“Some things are worth the effort,” replies Lucas easily, slipping on his shoes. As he reaches to tie his laces, Mark continues, “She takes up all of your time now, you haven’t hung with us in months, and all for a relationship that’s destined to fail.”

“Nothing’s destined to fail, Mark. It’s all about how hard you’re willing to work for it.” His voice is calm, but there’s something building beneath it. To this, Mark sighs, and says, “You’ve changed, man.”

Lucas grabs his keys, clearly at the limit with Mark’s prodding. “Sometimes people are worth changing for, Mark. Yuqi forgave me for what I did, and I forgave her for what she did. We’re trying, okay? We’re not walking away. I’m sure…” The taller male pauses on his words, as though contemplating them, before continuing. “I’m sure Y/N would’ve forgiven you for what you did, but you walked away. And that’s where we’re different.”

It hits him, and Mark tightens his jaw. Yes, his relationship with Y/N was destined to fail too, there was no denying it. To fight with his friend who he had just tried to make amends with, or apologize? He goes with the latter, only because he’s too exhausted for a yelling match right now. “Lucas, I’m sorry, okay? I’m a little… on edge.”

“I know. I’ve known you for years,” chuckles Lucas softly. “I know how you get.”

“Yeah. Have fun on your date, though.”

His best friend nods tightly. “Yeah, I will. But if you care about what I told you, don’t go to the party tonight. You know you won’t be able to control yourself.” Mark nods, sighing. “And throw out that mapo tofu while you’re at it. It stinks, and not in the good way mapo tofu’s supposed to smell.”

Mark rolls his eyes while Lucas’ laugh fills his ears. “Just leave already.”

With a few smooth movements he’s already slid out the apartment door. A sigh leaves him, alone in the apartment. He does as Lucas says, tossing his attempt at dinner in the trash. It’s gonna be a long night.

—THE FIRST TASTE.

The first time that you kiss Mark, however, it’s hot inside his apartment and sweat sticks the fabric of your tank top to your stomach.

That doesn’t stop you from cuddling on his couch however, and you gaze up at him from your position under his arm to watch as your boyfriend, focused on the TV, lifts his blunt to his lips and takes a long drag. Underneath his arm, you observe how his lips wrap around the circumference of it, sucking in a sharp breath before releasing it into the air. He knows that over your time together, you’ve come to accept the smoking. It’s obviously clear to him that you don’t particularly approve, but Mark’s responsible enough to control himself. Now however, as you gaze up at him, you realize just how attractive your boyfriend is. Dark hair tousled and arms bared through his tank top, he looks so, so good. Somehow, he looks even better with the cig in his hand.

You never would have thought you’d fall for such a guy like him, but you keep falling. He’s not the good guy that you dreamed of, but that’s okay, because you make him good.

“Mark?” You ask, still looking up at him.

He hums in response, turning to look at you.

Your voice is soft as you ask, “Do you believe in destiny?”

Your boyfriend blinks at the sudden question. “Define destiny.”

“That like, we all have a predetermined fate. That everything happens for a reason, and every challenge is just a small piece in a bigger puzzle. That we all have soulmates we’re destined to be with.” Mark’s lips purse, pouting just the slightest in thought, a habit of his.

Does he?

It’s a question, because he used to. He used to be a good old Christian boy, of course he believed that God had a plan for everyone. Every tribulation was just something that would make him stronger in the end. Unfortunately, the last time Mark can remember being at church, he fucked one of the choir girls in the Bible study room.

He can’t really pinpoint when he stopped believing in fate. God? Yeah, sure he still believes in him, though the big guy upstairs will probably send him south for his irrefutable sins. But fate? Not really. If fate was real then it was really messed up to make him such a failure.

But, he realizes, gazing at the strands of hair matted to your forehead as a result of the hot summer weather, and the pure adulation in your eyes as you gaze up to him, that perhaps because of you, his destiny isn’t too bad. Sure, he’s a fuck up with addictions and demons, but he does pretty well by keeping you happy. Because you make him happy. A smooth, suave smile spreads across his lips like butter. “I didn’t before, but I do now.”

Your eyebrow perks up. “Now you do? Why’s that?”

His arm wrapped lazily around your shoulders allows him to pull your face close. With the same smile, he presses a number of kisses to your cheek (much to your sweet protest, complaining about his sweat and smoke). As though he attempts to mask his words against your skin, he mumbles, “Because I found you.”

Mark has never told you that he loves you; it’s a bit too intimate for him, who’s never been vulnerable in that way, and you, whose every first is him.

But he doesn’t have to say it, because you know it.

Your lips break out into a flustered smile, though you try to hide it from him. His quiet, unsaid confession fills you with glee and more importantly, confidence.

“Babe,” you tell him. This grabs his attention, because you rarely use such sweet nicknames. He attempts to respond, but you’re already sitting up and swinging yourself over to straddle his lap. Your movement brings about confusion on his features, and you take a deep breath. This isn’t the first time you’ve been in this position with him, but the first time you’ve made the initiative to do it yourself. Mark was always leading you. So you lean forward, placing your hands on his shoulders, and you kiss him.

You can probably taste the smoke on your tongue, but you’ve grown accustomed to that. Mark kisses back and grips your waist with his free hand, both shocked and amused by your sudden courage. Everything feels right, it’s like it’s destiny. He’s about to slip his tongue into your mouth but you break the connection, choosing instead to linger your lips over his. Your breath is hot on his as you finally speak.

“I want a puff.”

“Are you sure?” He looks up at you, nearly breathless at the sight of you atop him. Lip gloss smeared from your heated kiss, you look delectable. Your wide eyes, once depicting innocence, are now focused and curious. He knows you don’t necessarily approve of his habits, but here you are, sitting on top of him looking irresistible and asking for a taste.

“Yes,” you confirm, as though reassuring yourself. Mark had always liked you, been attracted to you because of the notion that you were innocent, pure, bright. Everything he was not. He had never wanted to taint you, yet his confession still hangs in the air.

But as he lifts his blunt to his mouth, taking a long drag before blowing the diluted smoke into your waiting cavern, he starts to worry that this would be the beginning of a long downward spiral which would place no blame anywhere but on him.

—44 HOURS CLEAN.

The withdrawal forces him from his sleep at 5AM.

Mark wakes in a cold sweat, itching for a fix. That’s when he realizes how deep he really is.

Shit.

His fingers are shaking, so he moves to occupy them with the only thing he can think of. He drags himself out of bed, grabs his guitar, and makes his way out to the living room. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a window, he attempts to refamiliarize himself with the strings that he had abandoned. Lucas is still asleep, so he plucks quietly.

He has long since forgotten what it was like to lose himself in the sound.

There was once a time when he was passionate for something other than haze. It was music. The first time he touched a guitar, magic sprung through his fingers and he knew: he was made for this. Somehow, majoring in music composition and being forced to take so many theory and history classes had caused his passion to simmer. Now, it slowly burns again.

He doesn’t realize how the hours pass and the sun begins to shine between the blinds.

His mind brushes over what Taeyong had told him two days ago. Is this what he had been missing all this time? All the hours he spent blinded by a foggy smoked haze, had he been neglecting his own love for music? It’s amazing what he can accomplish when he takes a break from that life.

He starts to feel like the old Mark again.

For a second, he stops strumming and directs his gaze to outside the window. There’s not much to see except the college town, with the glimpse of the university itself just atop the hill, but he stares and relishes in the sight of the sunlight casting a glow over the town.

A knock on the door interrupts his deliberations.

A glance to the clock tells him it’s barely 9AM. Who would be here so early? There are two options, he decides as he stands from the floor to stretch his legs, resting his guitar on the wall. It’s either Yuqi, Lucas’ renowned off-again on-again girlfriend, or Johnny coming to deliver the week’s set.

When he opens the door, the visitor’s face is blocked by a box, but he knows those shoes. Those white ballet flats with purple bows were always your favorite.

Suddenly the box lowers and Mark is finally face to face with you, his ex-girlfriend. He hasn’t seen your face in the months since you’ve called it quits, even though he’s spent countless moments just staring at the leftover pictures on his phone. You look surprised to see him.

“Oh—Mark. Lucas said you probably wouldn’t be awake.” So you had been keeping in touch with Lucas? This is news to him. Had his best friend been sharing that he had been basically wasting away the past few months without you?

“Couldn’t sleep,” explains Mark almost sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. For a moment he’s glad he had the mind to put on a shirt before coming outside.

“Oh…” You trail, your gaze traveling down to the box absentmindedly.

He doesn’t mean to be rude, but the surprise at seeing you on his doorstep makes him a bit gruff. You’re still the same as before: same face, same shoes, same bright eyes. But there’s something about you, about your aura that’s different. More mature. More independent. Because you don’t need him anymore. “What are you doing here?”

If you’re taken aback by his coarseness, you don’t show it. “I brought a box of your stuff. It’s just... stuff that was left at my house.” You gesture to the box in your hands, and Mark is quick to take it from your arms. He prays you don’t take note of the way his hands shake.

Slowly he places it on the floor next to the door and when he stands again, you’re leaning back and forth on your heels looking rather awkward. He doesn’t ask for an explanation but you give one anyways. You had always had a habit of talking too much when you felt nervous. “I’ve had it since...” Your breakup, but neither of you want to say it. “I put it together a couple months ago but put off bringing it over. But I figured, uh, the school year’s over in a couple weeks so I should just do it. I texted Lucas, he said he’d be awake to grab it but..”

“He’s still asleep,” Mark completes for you.

“Yeah,” you say simply. No longer having a box to occupy your hands, you hold them behind your back which only furthers the idea that you’re uncomfortable in his presence. It makes him sad almost, how much things have changed.

He thinks back to what Lucas had told him at the start of the weekend. Maybe it was possible to change things back to the way they used to be. “Do you want to come inside? I have some coffee, or some—”

You look at him with blinking eyes. “I don’t dr—”

“I know.” He knows you don’t drink coffee. Of course he does. “I have tea. It’s even peppermint, your favorite.”

“You drink peppermint tea?” You look at him, incredulous.

“I don’t. It’s leftover from when I bought it for you. I just... haven’t thrown it out yet.”

That’s what your love had done to him: turned him from a brooding boy into a softened man, so much that he was willing to keep your favorite drink around just in case you’d ever come back and want it.

“Oh,” you sound. Your teeth bite down gently on your bottom lip, gnawing it in contemplation as you look away from him momentarily. When you look back, he can see you’ve made your decision. “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mark. I’m sorry.”

He expected it, but it doesn’t sting any less. “That’s okay. I understand.” An attempt at a smile is displayed on his face, but it doesn’t reflect any of the radiance in the smile that you mirror back at him. It’s small, the tips of your lips barely lifting, but it’s enough to remind him that you are indeed all that is good in the world, and he needs you. He loves you.

Maybe he can’t love you right now but one day, he’ll be good enough to deserve you. That day isn’t today, but it’ll come eventually. “I’ll see you around,” you say to him.

“I hope so,” is his response.

You give him another small smile before turning to leave. “I hope you’re doing okay, Mark.”

He is, or he’s trying to. When you leave, he closes the door and returns the box to his bedroom before opening it up. Inside, numerous hoodies gifted to you because they became too small for him but were still huge on you. Old songbooks from his high school days that he no longer needed. A teddy bear he had gifted you on your first anniversary.

Pushing the box aside, he grabs a notebook and his music theory textbook. Maybe it actually would do him some good to study.

—THE FIRST TEAR.

“What the hell, Mark?”

You don’t curse often, so when you do, it wakes him. When you find him in his room, he’s knocked out with his body half on the bed and the other half slung over the edge. His hair sticks out in numerous fluffy tufts over his pillow, but you can still smell the weed off of him.

“He only came back like, three hours ago.” He hears Lucas’ voice selling him out, and he groans into the pillow, only lifting his head to grumble at his roommate.

“Snitch bitch,” he says, his voice groggy and scratched.

“Don’t get mad at him,” you suddenly speak up. “At least he answered my calls when I was calling, worried where you were because you hadn’t texted me since,” you stop to check your phone. “5PM last night!”

“I told you, I was going to Johnny’s party,” responds Mark, sitting up in his bed, head still spinning. Rubbing his eyes, he sits up, looking rather disheveled and hungover.

“Yeah, and you never texted me to let me know you were home. How would I have known if you had overdosed, or passed out drunk, or got in a car accident? Or just died?” As your voice rises, reaching a volume you’ve rarely ever employed, you clear your throat to calm yourself and turn to Lucas. “Thanks, Lucas. I appreciate it.”

“Any time,” he responds, giving a nod before walking away, likely disappearing into his room.

When you turn back to gaze into Mark’s room, he’s slipped on a shirt. “What the hell were you doing out so late? 9AM is when you should be waking up, Mark, not falling asleep. Finals are next week, you were supposed to meet me at the library an hour ago!”

He makes an annoyed expression at your chastising, and you gaze at him with expectant eyes, awaiting an explanation. All he does is grimace and say, “Babe, can you like, quiet down? I’m hungover, your voice is too loud.”

Your jaw drops.

For a moment you stay like that, until you continue speaking, words coming out faster than Mark can understand them. “I’m just trying to help, Mark. You’ve partied more than you’ve studied this year, and I’m not going to let you just get away with it. Almost every weekend I have to stay up worrying about you, wondering when you’ll get home, unable to sleep until you text me that you’re home and okay.”

“Maybe you should stop worrying then,” he retorts.

“Maybe stop giving me reasons to worry?”

He rolls his eyes, laying back in his bed. “Maybe you should come with me then.”

You quickly reply, “Maybe you should stop partying.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to control me,” he finally spits.

Once again, you’re rendered speechless. And when you turn your head away, focusing your gaze to the hallway instead of at him, Mark thinks he’s won. But then you sniff, an indication that your sensitive heart has once again been touched with tears. “Please,” you finally say, voice weak. This is the timbre Mark is used to hearing from you, not the tone you had used earlier when yelling at him. In this moment, he’s not sure which one he hates more. “Please stop this.”

In a swift movement you reach forward, gathering yourself on your knees before his bed. You grab his hand, pressing your lips to it as a tear makes its way down your cheek. “Please, please, please… please stop the drugs, Mark. It’s made you this… this terrible person and I know you’re not like this.” Suddenly, you’re crying into the palm of his hand while he gazes at you in surprise. “Missing dates, staying out late, yelling, I know that’s not you.”

“Y/N—”

“Please, just call Johnny and tell him you can’t do this anymore. Tell him you’re done. Please, for me.”

Your begging causes Mark’s jaw to tighten subconsciously. What you’re hoping for is a better Mark, a different person. He’s not that person that you want him to be, he can never be that way. This is how he is and how he’ll always be. This is his fate, to be a lowlife drug dealer barely passing college, and if you can’t handle it then—“You know I can’t do that. You promised you’d be here through everything, all the good and the bad.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you destroy yourself like this, Mark.”

He rips his hand from your grasp, causing a slight squeak of surprise to leave your lips. It’s almost as if he’s not in control of himself, because he blows up. “Can’t you just be like a good girlfriend and love me through the bad shit? I’m trying my best here.”

But is he really? Suddenly, as though empowered by some kind of intangible strength, you rise to your feet, the sadness in your eyes now quickly replaced by anger. “I do love you, that’s why I’m acting like this, you asshole!” You wipe your tears furiously with the back of your hand before glowering down at him. “But if you can’t keep your mind sober long enough to see that then call me when you can.”

He registers the sound of the bedroom door slamming shut, causing it to ring in his ears. Within the blink of an eye, you’re gone. Fate is a really messed up bitch for this.

—1 WEEK CLEAN.

It’s been a week.

A week since the last time he touched anything, though he had been tempted when Yuta invited him over for some sativa. The drinking and partying isn’t hard to let go of. It’s the weed, because it got him through the hardest days.

A week in, and he’s pretty proud of himself.

Nowadays, he tries to occupy his shaking hands with guitar or studying but he’s started playing so often that his hands are now raw and in pain. Today, because the weather’s nice outside and his fingers hurt like hell, he decides to take a walk.

It’s aimless at first, just exploring the streets around his apartment on foot. But then ten, fifteen, thirty minutes pass, and without knowing it, he’s arrived at his destination. Johnny’s place. Standing in front of the door, eyes boring into the bright red paint of the front door, Mark feels himself start to slip. No, he decides, he has to do this. This is the right thing.

A shaky knock on the door is followed by another stronger one. He waits a minute before trying again, yet as his hand lifts to place another knock on it, it slides open to reveal Johnny himself in casual wear. “Hey,” greets Johnny, giving Mark a nod. “What’s up? I told you I’d drop the next batch off at your place, you didn’t have to come out here.”

At Johnny’s question, Mark feels his breath caught in his throat. Not only is the guy taller than him and towering over him in every aspect, but he could definitely throw Mark under the bus for his own crimes. But no… he wouldn’t do that, right? He had done enough for Johnny over the past three years that he would let him off easily, surely? A gulp is heard in Mark’s throat as he straightens his position in front of Johnny.

“That’s the thing. I… I don’t want to do this anymore.”

For a moment, Mark thinks that the taller man will be angry. Johnny stands before him, eyebrows furrowed. “Why?”

“I just need to.”

Johnny immediately starts to argue, tilting his head. “You know you’re my best seller, though. No one sells as much as you, and I trust you with all the big deliveries. Who am I supposed to give the heroin to now… Ten? As if, Mark.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

“I…” Mark starts, though he stops. “I need to stop. I’ll finish the batch from this week, I promise. I only have like, two deliveries left but I just, it’s not healthy for me. And it’s not because I’m planning to sell you out or anything, or find someone else but I just can’t do this anymore.” He finds himself ranting, finding more interest in anything but Johnny’s face. “I’m not happy, I’m angry and anxious all the time, and being around the drugs only makes me want to do it more, and I just… I just can’t, John.”

When he finishes his unfiltered rant, he looks back to the taller male and tries to read his expression. Will he be angry? If his earlier debate was anything, he definitely wouldn’t let Mark off without a fight.

But instead, the older nods. “I get it. Just finish your deliveries for this week and call it done.”

Mark blinks at Johnny’s easy acquiescence. “T-That’s it? You’re not going to fight more?”

“You want me to?” Johnny asks, cocking an eyebrow that’s almost mocking.

“No, but I…”

“Thought you’d be worth the fight?”

“No, that’s not it.” Mark shakes his head. “I just…”

“Mark,” sighs Johnny, standing straight from where he had been leaning rather casually against the doorframe. “I’m not stupid, okay? I know that drug dealing is hard for you. And I’m also not oblivious, I know that you and your girlfriend broke up, okay? Yuta told me what happened with the coke, and I wasn’t surprised when you refused to sell it anymore.”

Mark frowns even deeper at the mention of it, but Johnny continues. “I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do. If you say it’s not good for you, then it’s not good for you.”

“But…” Mark starts, but doesn’t find the words to continue. It was… that easy. “Okay. Uh, thanks, I guess. For everything?”

“Sure. Just don’t come crawling back when you can’t make rent on your McDonalds’ salary. Male strippers make pretty good money, if you’re interested.” It’s clear Johnny’s joking, so Mark rolls his eyes and laughs, though the sound is somewhat tight.

“I’d love to talk to you some more about ways to get a hustle going, but I have to go find a new dealer, and teach Ten how to stop giving weed to everyone he meets because he thinks they need a pick-me-up.” Johnny sighs, as though the life of a drug dealer is the most difficult of them all, which in Mark’s experience, it might just be.

“Alright. Uh, later, John.”

Johnny nods in acknowledgement before shutting the door. Mark breaths out a heavy breath.

That went… surprisingly well. Maybe Lucas was right, maybe it really was this easy all this time. Perhaps he had always just been the one believing that it was difficult, because he had made it so. He had been stressing over it all this time, but Johnny was more easygoing about it than he’d thought.

As he walks the path home, he thinks he deserves a reward for his endeavors. It’s a bit selfish maybe, but he opens his phone, and you’re on his speed dial.

“Hello?” You ask, voice bright as always but clearly a bit guarded from the name that had flashed across your screen.

“Y/N,” Mark breathes out. It’s only been a few days since you had swung by the apartment.

“Hey, uh… what’s up?”

He doesn’t quite know either. He had quite honestly been a bit impulsive in pressing on your contact, and now that you truly rest across the phone from him, he has no idea what his purpose was. “Um, nothing much, I just wanted to tell you…” A soft breath leaves his lips. Will you be happy for him? “I told Johnny that I quit, that I’m done.”

There’s a momentary pause on the line, and Mark begins to worry that you’ve hung up when you finally breathe out, “That’s good, Mark. I’m… I’m proud of you.”

Proud. He had only been hoping for a “good for you,” at most, but to hear that you’re proud of him, it makes him smile to the ground as he walks the trail back to his apartment. Fuck, you’ve made him weak. “Thanks.”

“I guess you really are doing well then,” you say.

When he gets home, riding the high of his successes from standing up to Johnny to calling you, he flushes his Xanax pills down the toilet and watches as they swirl away into oblivion, as if they had never existed in his life in the first place.

—THE FIRST CRASH.

Mark connects his lips to your neck and suckles on it softly, drawing a moan out of you. The sound you make goes straight to his dick, and he releases a breathy groan against your skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty, princess.”

Princess—that’s the name he’s given you, because all he wants to do is treat you right. And he does, especially in times like these, where you feel the heat of his body on top of yours and he devours your moans in his mouth.

He currently lays between your spread legs, your combined figure lost in his bed sheets as he softly grinds his hardened core against yours. He’s still got his jeans on while you’re laying only clad in your panties, yet the feel of the denim is enough to have you moaning. You tilt your head back as a light mewl leaves your lips, your body subconsciously grinding down on his.

It had been complete heaven for the both of you when you had given him your virginity, your purity, at the beginning of this year, and since then you have been basically insatiable. You had never felt such desire for anyone before him. Now as his hands rub small circles over your clothed clit, you want him once more.

You’re shaking your head, so needy for him but he doesn’t relent, only smirking more while he continues rubbing sinful circles on your clit. “Tell me what you want.” He wants to hear your beg.

Voice soft and breathy, you say, “Please, Mark, I—”

The doorbell rings. It’s heard through the apartment and Mark groans, rolling his eyes while attempting to keep you going. “Keep going. It’s probably just Lucas forgetting his key again.”

Though the mood was momentarily killed, you both try to fall back into place. Now his fingers have left your clit, instead pulling your panties down to your midthigh. “Shit, you’re soaking,” he moans out in amazement, running a finger through your wet folds. As much as he wants to dive in and fuck you until you’re cumming all over his cock, he needs to hear your sweet voice dripping dirty words for him first. Easily, he slides a finger in, to which you groan at the stretch. But it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease me, please.”

He smirks, slowly sliding his singular digit out of your sensitive core whilst he thumbs your clit. “Go on then, princess. Tell me what you need.”

“Fuck,” you curse and he finds it so hot. “I… I want you to—”

The doorbell again. This time, Mark audibly curses. “Fucking hell,” he sighs, removing his fingers from where you need him. Instead, he moves up and places a sweet kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right back.”

He’s still fully dressed, so he simply opens the door and slips outside before closing it again behind him. As he’s walking down the hall, the doorbell rings once again, causing him to roll his eyes. God, how many times was Lucas going to lose his keys?

The person at the door, however, isn’t his roommate. It’s Johnny, holding a black gym bag. Mark already knows what it is. He runs a hand through his hair, already crazy from how you had been running your hands through it. “Hey, John,” he says, taking the bag clearly in a rush. It’s Sunday, which means Johnny’s dropping off Mark’s deliveries for the week.

“Hey, man,” greets Johnny, handing over the list. Mark doesn’t even bother to check that everything’s there, so the older man raises an eyebrow. “Busy?” He asks, eyeing Mark’s disheveled clothes and the fresh hickey on his collarbone.

“Kind of.”

“Nice. See you next week,” says Johnny with a click of his tongue and a wink, then Mark closes the door and he’s gone. Now, back to what’s important. He slings the strap over his shoulder and makes his way back to his bedroom. As soon as he enters, you look up at him with wide, anticipating eyes.

You’ve pulled your undergarments back on, much to his displeasure. Mark drops the dark bag on the floor in the corner, and your eyes find it. “Johnny came?”

“Yeah. Just dropping off for the week,” replies Mark, his mind not exactly on it as he takes off his shirt, tossing it somewhere. He moves back over your figure on the bed, lips on the curve of your breast fully intending to return things to the intensity they were at just earlier.

Though his lips trail up to meet yours and his hands begin tugging your panties back down, he can tell from the way you’re kissing him that you’re not fully there. So when you moan his name, he knows it’s not out of pleasure. “Mark,” you say softly against his lips.

“Hmm,” he responds, callused hands gripping your thighs and leading them open. He’s about to slip his hand inside your panties, but your hand stops him.

“Can I have some?” When he looks at you, your eyes are not focused on him, but the bag in the corner. Your eyes are faded, clouded as your both ascend to a place of pleasure. You… wanted drugs? Sure, he’s blown a few times in your mouth but in your relationship spanning over a year already, you’ve never directly asked for any.

His dark eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure?”

You bite down on your lip. “What’s in it?”

“I don’t know,” reveals Mark truthfully as he gets off of you and makes his way over to the package, picking it up and placing it on the bed. You’re sitting up now, peering over the bag with interest as he unzips the gym bag open. Though the exterior looks unsuspicious, the bag opens up to reveal bags of white powder and green kush.

Cocaine.

It’s dangerous. Mark gazes down at it, biting down on his lip.

“Is that… cocaine?” You ask, not unaware of the extreme drug sitting in your boyfriend’s room.

He nods, almost ashamed. “Yeah.”

A silence falls over the two of you, both just staring at the white bags. It’s almost unbearable, how much Mark wants to throw the bag away and just resume your activities, but you’re still gazing into the bag with contemplation, fear, and even… curiosity.

“So, can I have some?” You ask again.

Mark sputters for a second, blinking. “Babe. I—are you sure?”

You nod, eyes dark and curious. “Yeah.” At your confirmation, sounding like it was more to assure yourself than him, Mark stares holes into the white substance. It’s filling the bag to the brim—surely whoever he has to deliver it to won’t notice a line’s worth missing.

So it’s with steady yet hesitant hands that he pulls a pack from the bag, directing you. “Grab your credit card,” he says, walking over to his nightstand. Unzipping the bag just the slightest, he pours out a small amount. Just a little bit, he swears.

When you return to his side with your said card in your hand, he takes it from you and lines up the coke on the table. In a neat little line, it’s set up for you. “Okay,” he starts, looking at you. “Just hold down one nostril and—”

“I know how to do it. I’ve seen it at parties.” You interrupt him as you kneel, finally head level with the nightstand. It’s true; the few parties you have attended alongside your boyfriend, there’s more than enough depictions. He watches with interest as you lean forward, holding one side of your nose closed, and snort up the entire line in one go.

First, you cough into the nightstand. When you turn and look at him, you’re wiping the remaining white dust from your nose. “You okay?” Your boyfriend asks you, to which you nod. “It takes a few minutes to work.”

Again, you nod silently, sitting down on the bed and gesturing Mark to come to you. When he approaches, you lay back in his bed, looking up at him with lustful eyes. “Now, hurry up and fuck me.”

The words are so rare from you. It’s all he needs to hear, unbuckling his belt and dragging his jeans to the floor in two swift movements. Within moments he’s back on top of you, feeling your heat once again. He starts slow, pressing kisses to your stomach, breasts, and neck while waiting for the drug to take effect. He knows the exact moment that it begins to work; your pupils immediately dilate, and suddenly you’re a loose, moaning mess underneath him.

Your muscles relaxed, Mark immediately presses a long kiss to your swollen lips while dragging down your panties. He would usually opt for more foreplay, but he’s waited long enough. He pulls away for the shortest moment to slip on a condom, but before you know it he’s already flush against you again.

It feels so good, even just his touch on you. You’re so sensitive, senses heightened by the drug that you feel everything: his large hands on your breasts over your tips, his lips marking your neck. When he leads his dick to your dripping entrance, you watch in anticipation, though you’re shaking.

As he finally slides in, finally filling you up, you tilt your head back and let out a loud moan, the loudest yet. It just feels so good, you feel so full, and he’s so, so deep.

Everything is…. so good. Euphoria creeps into your headspace.

He pulls out, and you moan again. “Ah,” you gasp sharply, feeling every ridge, every muscle stretched as he slides out, only the tip inside you. Then he slams back in, causing your back to arch and your toes to curl. “Oh, fuck,” you moan out again, eyes closed tightly, lost in the pleasure.

Mark’s hand grips at your hips, eyebrows furrowed in focus as he falls into a rhythm. He would have taken some himself, but he wanted to watch you fall apart under him. Suddenly you grab at his free hand, and he intertwines your fingers. You’re squeezing him, his hand and his dick altogether, so tightly as you’re lost in your pleasure.

“Fuck, princess, you feel so good,” he moans out, closing his eyes. He immediately opens them again, not wanting to miss a second of you. “You love my cock, huh?”

Breathless, you nod without words.

“And to think, just a year ago you were an innocent little prude. Now look at you, taking my cock like the slut you are. High on my drugs, fuck—” Mark taunts, moaning aloud as you suddenly clench around him. “Fuck, you feel so tight.”

When he adds his hands to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles the way he knows you love it, the pleasure is heightened for your sensitive body. Your temperature rises, your heartbeat uncontrollable—all the telltale signs of that euphoric high.

A few minutes pass like this, you completely out of it and moaning at the top of your lungs whilst your boyfriend fades in and out of your vision. You grasp onto his arm, tilting your head back. “Mark, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he musters out, never stopping his hips. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are.”

And you do, losing it as you tighten around his length, walls clenching repeatedly. This brings him over the edge, cumming into the condom with a shaky breath. He keeps the rhythm going for both your sakes, though his thrusts go erratic as he comes down.

You do the same, your thirty minutes of elation coming to an end soon. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasmic high, you immediately relax. Your breathing is labored as you relax into his sheets.

Mark pulls from you with a low groan. By the time he’s tossed the condom off into the trash and returned to his bed, you’re already asleep, chest rising softly. A post-cocaine high can do that to you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he slides into bed with you, slipping a hand over your waist.

With the way your body fits right into his, one could say you were made for each other. In Mark’s mind, maybe you were.

—3 WEEKS, 6 DAYS CLEAN

His hands shake as he curls the wrapping paper, giving it a soft lick to secure it.

Tomorrow will be four weeks, a whole month since the last time he had done anything. He had passed his exams. After he had thrown the pills away, he was sure that everything would be smooth sailing. But he was wrong.

He’s disappointed in himself, he is. He wanted to be better, but it’s harder than it seems. Lucas would be disappointed in him. You would be too.

Luckily, neither will find out.

Right now he’s tucked in his bedroom away from Lucas with the excuse that he was napping, but he’s not. Instead, he’s wrapping a joint with the leftover weed tucked in his nightstand.

It’s not because he wants to, or because he’s being peer pressured by anyone around him. It’s for one person only—his dad.

On this day, five years ago, Pastor Lee passed away.

The first three years, the hardest ones, he had Lucas. The past two years, he had you.

No—the first three years weren’t hardest to face, this one is. He still has Lucas, but not really. Had he swallowed his pride, had he just told his best friend that he wasn’t okay when he had asked about his father’s death anniversary, things would have been okay. Lucas would have nodded in sympathy, then dropped everything he had to be there for Mark. They’d chill and drink a couple beers—no, not drink, not anymore—but maybe watch a movie and play some games until the day had passed. That would have been bearable.

But that hadn’t happened.

When Lucas had asked Mark how he felt about the day, Mark had lied and blubbered out a, “Oh, was that today? I totally forgot.” Why had he done that? He doesn’t know.

Because he had had too much pride to admit to his friend that he was struggling… Now he’s here, trying to take care of his pain in the only way he has left.

He lights it, fingers still shaking, and his body relaxes into the mattress as he finally gets a taste of the clouded, sinful smoke once more. The only downfall to this is that he knows, oh he knows well, just how much pain that it causes for him and those around him.

—THE FIRST BURN.

Over the years, Mark has grown accustomed to the warmth.

It’s what you do to him, what he associates you with. Your first kiss, despite the cold winter air, warmed his soul from the inside. Whenever he looks at you… there’s a feeling of espousement that explodes within his chest. Yes, he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it often. He doesn’t need to. You know. You’ve opened his eyes to the beauty of love, the exhilaration of showing yourself to someone and being fully accepted. In his life once frozen over with the loss of his father and the death of his innocence, you showed him warmth.

When he wakes, you’re burning up.

More than you should, even with the two of you naked beneath his blankets. You’re sweating, he realizes as he slides his hand, which he had slung around your waist as the two of you drifted into dreamland, over your skin.

You must be hot underneath the blanket, so he starts to slide it off the blanket from your figures. Then he hears it: you cough, the choked sound coming out scratched and labored. Though you’re turned away from him, he can hear the struggle in it. It’s as if… there’s something blocking your throat.

His eyes immediately widen, adrenaline spiking as he sits up, grabs your shoulders, and turns you around. No, no, it can’t be. Where you had been laying, facing the wall, there’s remnants of your vomit, though some had gotten lodged in your throat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. His fingers grab your wrist. You’re still breathing. You’ve still got a pulse, but it’s fast, too fast. So fast, he can barely count it. “Shit,” he curses. You’re overdosing. You’ve overdosed. Fuck.

It’s the cocaine.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice already loud enough to make the house burst into flames with the amount of desperation he puts into it. Shaking your shoulders, he tries again. “Y/N, baby, fuck—wake up!” When you don’t come to, he turns his head over his shoulder, screaming, “Lucas!”

It’s only the early morning, will he be awake? “Lucas!”

“Mark…?” Your voice draws him out from his panic, and he turns to you with wide eyes. Your eyes, pupils dilated and shaky, fly all over the room. “W-What’s—” You don’t finish, because immediately you’re flinging yourself over the side of his bed and throwing up the remainder of what’s in your throat out on his bedroom floor.

The door slams open. Lucas’ worried face appears. Mark is trembling, breath shaking, and you’re still vomiting over the carpet. At the moment, Mark doesn’t care that the both of you are naked in his bed. “What the hell happened?”

Mark feels himself start to slip away, only a moment from hyperventilating, but he speaks. “Hospital… cocaine—overdose, I—”

“I’ll go start the car.” Lucas is immediately out the door, loud steps running down the hallway to grab his keys. At least somebody is in a stable state of mind. Mark starts to move, standing to dress the two of you, but you grab his arm as he steps out, perhaps using the last of your energy. Your eyes are wild, your mouth parted as you heave heavy, labored breaths.

“I… I can’t breathe—Mark, I can’t,” you start between hurried breaths, but don’t finish. Immediately you go slack, falling back in his bed with closed eyes rolled into the back of your head.

“Fuck,” he curses, immediately throwing on his jeans and sliding your dress over your sweltering body. Though he’s stumbling and racing to gather things, his phone, his wallet, and your’s, he picks you up into his arms bridal style, racing out of his bedroom into the living room.

Flying out the front door, the cold morning air greets him in an unpleasant fashion, only making your perspiring body seem even warmer, reminding him of his faults. Lucas is already sitting in the front seat, ready to go, but Mark throws the two of you in the backseat. At this point you’re completely gone to the world, head thrown back against the cushion as he struggles to put on your seatbelt. It seems like an arbitrary precaution in this case.

As Lucas starts to drive, moving as fast as he can possibly go, Mark clutches your hand. “Baby,” he finally breaths out as reality begins to set in. This is his fault, he did this to you. He doesn’t deserve to hold your hand, so instead he lets go, placing it in your lap before leaning forward to place his head in his hands.

“Oh my fucking god,” he finally lets out, exasperated.

—1 WEEK, 2 DAYS CLEAN

“My name is Hyunjoon, and I am addicted to alcohol. It has been… six weeks since my last drink.”

Mark bounces his leg erratically, glancing around the room. There’s some people he knows, recalling their faces on campus or around town, but some people he's never seen in his life. He’s supposed to reveal himself to these people? He doesn’t belong here.

Or maybe he does. After his last breakdown, it had taken him three days to fess up to Lucas. His friend, though disappointed, was more than understanding. “It’s a long road,” he had told Mark at the time. He said that he knew of an addiction support group in town, and encouraged Mark to attend. He’s right; Mark knows he can’t do this alone.

“Glad to see you’ve gone another week, Hyunjoon. Happy to see you back.”

He’s next, so he stands. “Um,” he starts, rubbing his nape and feeling awfully out of place. “I’m Mark, and I’m addicted to…” he sighs. “A lot of things.”

The kind looking leader of the meeting offers him a smile. “You can share if you’d like.”

He takes a deep breath. There’s so many people, so many eyes. “Mostly weed. I drink a lot, or I used to. I… I was trying to stop everything then I had a—” How to describe it? “Relapse, last week. I don’t think I can do this alone.”

“We commend you for your courage, Mark.” There’s a soft round of applause in the circle. The smiling leader then continues, “We ask everyone who is new to this group, ‘why.’ Why do you want to stop your addiction? Why do you seek help? Besides the obvious reasons that it’s bad for you.”

This question doesn’t take long for him to answer. “I hurt someone. Someone that I really loved, and honestly… I hate myself for it. So I have to stop.”

There seems to be a couple of nods around the circle as Mark sits back down. He releases a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. This will work. Things will be okay. He will get better. He will get you back.

“Thank you for that, Mark. Welcome.”

—THE FIRST REGRET.

Mark finds himself in the same position he had been in earlier in the car, except this time he’s sitting on the floor right outside your room on the hospital floor, hiding his head in his hands. What is wrong with him?

What had he done to you? What had he allowed you to do to yourself?

God, he’s fucked up.

Lucas is inside with you. He had wanted to be there when you woke up, but he couldn’t. He could barely look at his face in the hospital bathroom mirrors; how was he supposed to face you, IVs hooked up to your arms as a result of the drugs that he gave you? It was supposed to be fine, it was just a little bit! It was supposed to help the experience you two were having. But instead, it almost ended your life.

He looks back now. Just two years ago, when you had first met, you didn’t even drink. You’d never been kissed, never been touched. Now he’s… done this to you. He’s despicable. You don’t deserve him. You deserve better.

The door opens, and Mark finally pulls his head up to see Lucas step out with a somber expression. It’s a stark juxtaposition that saddens him, for Lucas is so often the light hearted joking one of the two. “She wants to see you.”

Mark parts his lips, shaky breath exhaling. “I can’t.”

Lucas takes a seat next to him on the floor, sighing. He probably looks crazy, shirtless and puffy eyed on the floor, but his best friend moves next to him anyways. “I know. She’s not angry, you know.”

“That’s the worst part,” mumbles Mark, staring out at the bleak white walls of the hospital in front of them. He doesn’t say much, but Lucas understands him it seems.

“Something’s gotta change, Mark. Something’s gotta give.”

He knows, with a soft nod of his head. Of course, he knows what Lucas means, but what it means to him is different. He has to give something up, and it’s going to be you. Not because he can live without you or because he doesn’t love you, but because it needs to be you. You can’t be around him any longer. You’ll only continue to be hurt.

When this thought finally occurs, and he accepts it, it becomes a little easier to face you.

He rises to his feet. “I’ll… I’ll see you later,” he finally says, twisting the doorknob to your room open.

—1 MONTH, 4 DAYS CLEAN

He doesn’t know why you asked to see him for lunch, but he does know that you look good. You look healthy, you look better than you did that day when he slipped into your hospital room and saw you there, laying lifeless and gray. But that day, you still smiled when you saw him.

You look rather happy, like you’re doing okay without him, though he hopes that’s not that case—no, that’s not a good thing to hope for. He hopes that you’re doing okay, but that you’ll be even happier when you’re together again. Again, you smile at him over your food. Even after all this time, you still look at him like he’s the center of your universe.

Though you had made small talk about your lives, what you were both doing, how your mom is, how Lucas is, and other unimportant things, it’s at the end of the meal when your voice finally sobers, though you keep a smile on your lips.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I brought you out here.”

“I…” Mark starts, blinking, before nodding. “Yeah.”

You laugh, causing the slightest smile to break out across his lips. It’s still the same laugh you had, that fated night when you met. “I just wanted to see you again. And talk. We haven’t talked in a while.”

Mark’s smile turns into a bittersweet simper. “I thought that was because you didn’t want to talk.” Though you had spoken to him on that phone that one day, he had chalked that up to you being polite when he suddenly called.

“Well, at first, yeah, but you know it’s been almost a year since we broke up and… I had some things I wanted to tell you.” Him too, but he’s not entirely sure he’s at his best just yet. Nevertheless, he smiles and nods.

“I’m listening. You know I always am.”

You take a moment or two to simply stare at him with thoughtful eyes as you think over your words. All the while, your sweet smile never leaves your roseate tiers. Finally, hands folded over your lap, you start.

“Thank you.”

Mark blinks, but you continue. “I know that we didn’t end off on the best terms but I wanted to make sure you knew that I was thankful for you. For having you. You’ve done a lot for me. You’ve taught me a lot, and I can’t thank you more for everything you’ve done.”

You blink repeatedly, eyes fluttering before you continue, which leads Mark to think that these words might be just as emotional for you as they are for him. “Thank you for teaching me love. Because of you, I’ve grown a lot and become a better version of myself. A stronger one. I’m really thankful that you were my first everything: my first real date—” His mind flies back to that night. That movie really was a horrible movie.

“My first kiss.” Does it feel right, now? Yes. Can I kiss you? Yes.

“My first time.” It was awkward, but it felt, as it always did, right.

“Thank you, for being the first guy I loved. I really… really loved you, Mark. But most of all,” you say, gazing at his wordless figure with those eyes of yours. They’re not as innocent and naive as they used to be. They’re matured now, hardened, but still, the sparkle is there. The same sparkle that had attracted him that night, three years ago, with that damned white dress.

“I forgive you.” Mark releases a shaky breath. “For everything. I don’t want you to blame yourself anymore. It’s not your fault, really. I’m better now, I’m healthy. Please, don’t hurt yourself anymore because of me.”

“Y/N, I—”

“I met you in my first year here. We’re going to be seniors, Mark. We’re going to graduate and be thrown into the real world, where there’s real consequences. I don’t want the consequences of what happened to weigh you down. I just want to move on, and you deserve to move on too.” From the glint in your eye, it’s clear how long you’ve pondered over these words.

He wants to reach out to you, to grasp you and bring you back to him. Because he’s trying to let go of the past so that he can focus on loving you fully as you are.

Sure, you can forgive him, but he needs to forgive himself first. He’s not quite fully well yet. He has to be patient.

A soft exhale leaves his lips. “Thank you. For forgiving me.”

Yet another sweet, beautiful smile spreads across your lips. It’s the smile that haunts Mark’s dreams. “You’re welcome. And thank you again for everything.” As the waitress appears, returning Mark’s credit card that he had graciously used to pay for the meal, you stand with your bag.

No, you can’t be leaving just yet. “Stay in touch, okay, Mark?”

But he has to let you leave. The day will come when it’s right. “Yeah,” he manages, swallowing the lump in his throat. Yet as he watches you walk away, he can feel that that string of fate he had always believed tied the two of you together slowly wearing, twisting, breaking.

—THE FINAL TEAR.

“What do you mean we should break up?”

Your voice is scandalized, angry. Mark simply keeps his gaze to the living room floor, eyebrows furrowed in complete unhappiness. He never wanted it to end like this, but he’s run horrible with thoughts that the things he did brought pain to you. It’s time to end it. Not because he wants to, but because he should.

“We just should,” he responds bleakly. “After what happened, I think it’s clear that we’re not good for each other.”

It’s been a month now since you’ve been discharged from the hospital. After you had convinced your doctor that you weren’t addicted to drugs and in need of rehab, you had gone home. Mark had luckily had enough saved to pay off your hospital bills; neither of you wanted your parents knowing. “Mark, it’s okay. I told you it’s okay!”

“No, it’s not. It’s not just because of the overdose. Things have been like this for a while now.”

You attempt to grab his hand. If he allows himself to bask in just one moment of your kindness, he’ll give in. You beg, “Mark, please, hang on for me, for us. I promise things will get better, things can change.”

He snaps, pulling his hand from your’s. Your eyes widen up at him, shocked and appalled at his sudden movement. “No! Can’t you see? You didn’t even take that much. I took more coke in my first snort than you took in that entire line. The overdose shouldn’t have even happened, but look, it did. This is wrong.”

“What, the drugs? I’ve been telling you that. Please, we can get better. We can find help.” The fact that you’re still pleading him with kind, gentle eyes, makes this all worse. It only further proves that you’re good. He’s not.

“No, not the drugs. Us.”

“Us?”

He runs a hand through his dark hair, shaking his head in frustration. “We’re not right for each other. This isn’t working.”

“What do you mean? Tell me why.”

“We’re just not… destined to be together. What happened, it was God’s way of telling us that this is not right. We’re not right for each other,” he explains, voice exasperated as he tries his best to explain the mess of his thoughts.

This seems to take you aback, your voice finally rising. “Oh, so now you care what God thinks?”

No, not really. But sometimes he has to listen. He doesn’t respond, so you continue. “I’ve been more than willing to make this work for two years, Mark. You think any of this was easy for me? My first boyfriend and he’s a freaking drug dealer for God’s sake. I tried to take it all because I loved you! I took care of you when you were hungover, I waited around shady areas at night so that you could drop off deals, I stuck with you for everything. Fuck,” you shout, causing Mark to tense. You rarely curse, and based on your usage of it now, he knows just how upset you are. “I even overdosed and I’m still here. Yet it’s always you pushing me away, making it difficult. Why are you running away from us?”

He’s not running away. “I’m not running away,” he declares. “I’m letting you run away.”

“And what makes you think I need to run away from you?”

“Because! You heard yourself, don’t deserve those things. You should have someone to take care of you when you’re sick, not always be the one fixing me when I’m sick. You should have someone to walk with you through the shady areas. That’s not me. I’m not… right for you.” He finally spits it out, eyebrows tightened together as he releases the thoughts that have been on his mind for a month now.

You’re silent for a moment, taking in his words with your arms crossed over your chest. When you speak, your voice has returned to its normal speaking volume. “You told me that you believed in fate, that you believed in us. Is this fate? Fate that we met, and fell in love, and broke up? Is it fate that you hurt me over and over again and I came back, every single time? Because if that’s fate…” A single tear falls from your eyes, though you wipe it away so it’s as if it never even existed. It seems even you have some pride now, not to cry in front of him. “It seems like your idea of fate is pretty messed up.”

Mark takes a large breath, looking away to gather his thoughts before looking back to you. You’ve both come so far since that night, the image of her clouded by the purple lights, the energy of the party. Now, all that glamour is stripped away. It’s just you and him, as you are. “You had to meet someone like me, so you can know what you deserve.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to call it quits, and blame it on destiny?” Your tone is mocking, questioning his reasons and probably his sanity.

“I’m not calling it quits,” he immediately retorts, responding sharp and quick. “I’m letting you go.”

“No,” you say as you approach him. “You’re giving up. On us, on everything we worked hard to build. Our trust, our relationship, everything.” Your finger digs into his chest, pointing an accusing blame. “I broke up with you,” you emphasize. “Not the other way around. I broke up with you because you tugged me around, you pushed me away, and you never listened to me. I got tired of it, and broke up with you.”

With that, you pull away from him, though when he finally comes to realize the weight of the conversation you just had, he sees you grabbing your bag and slipping your white ballet flats with purple bows on. “Y/N.”

He wants to say he’s sorry, because it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He hadn’t planned for the conversation to go up in flames.

Whenever you walked out during arguments, there was always a promise to call later, to talk when your minds were stable. But now, as you turn over your shoulder, walking out of his apartment and life, you muster a goodbye.

“Don’t call me.”

—3 MONTHS CLEAN.

“Senior year!” Lucas yells as he throws open the front door with the power of the Hulk, startling Mark who’s still unpacking some boxes of cookware in the kitchen. “It’s our time, time to shine!”

A soft laugh leaves Mark as he places some cups in the cupboard. He and Lucas had left their apartment for two months for the summer to return to their homes, but here they are, back and ready to take on their final year. They had finished middle school and high school together, and now they’ll graduate college together. It makes Mark smile.

As he leaves the kitchen to greet his best friend in the living room, he sees that the guy has already brought in a number of his boxes. “Hey, man,” calls Mark, who leads Lucas in for a dap.

“Hey yourself, you barely talked to me this summer,” Lucas chastises playfully. “Ignoring me, I see.”

Mark laughs, shaking his head. “Not ignoring, just… working on myself.”

“Good,” responds Lucas, turning to bring in the rest of his boxes. Yes, Mark had spent the entire summer dedicating himself to the lost cause that was himself. He started working out again, got a job, and even worked on rebuilding his relationship with his mother. Things were looking up for him.

He feels ready. Lucas’ voice interrupts his thoughts. “Hey, wanna take a break and get some food?”

His question meets a raised eyebrow from Mark. “You just got here, like, two minutes ago.”

“And?”

A laugh leaves Mark’s lips, and he shakes his head. “Nothing. But, uh, I can’t. I was going to go… see Y/N.”

“Oh?” asks Lucas, leaning down to tear the tape on one of the dark cardboard boxes filled to the brim, probably with Lucas’ pillows; the man was like a giant baby, sleeping with ten pillows. “You called her and asked to meet up?”

“No,” responds Mark, who follows these words with a deep breath. “I’m going to go see her.”

Lucas stands straight once more, his playful expression from earlier now serious. He shoots Mark a soft smile, patting him on the shoulder. “Nice. I’m happy for you. Are you leaving now?”

“Uh, yeah, I was planning to go after I put all the kitchen stuff away.”

Lucas’ grin grows even wider, stretching from ear to ear as he gives Mark a little pat on the bum, which is supposed to be encouraging. “Well, then go get her, tiger! Good luck, man,” he yells supportively as he pushes Mark out the door.

As he shuts the door, Mark blinks. “Dude! I don’t even have shoes on! Or my car keys,” he laughs, banging on the door.

Some time later, Mark finds himself hesitating as he parks his car a block down the street from your sharehouse, the same place he had kissed you, that many years ago. He doesn’t even know if you still live here. You had been broken up since the beginning of your junior year, who knows if you had decided to move out?

He contemplates this as he walks down the sidewalk to your place, hands in his pockets and gaze on the floor. Surely, if you’re not there, one of the girls will point him in your direction? Hopefully.

Oh, but you are there. As your home comes into view, he sees you. You’re there on the front porch, dressed in a simple white skirt and the same white ballet flats with purple bows that you can never seem to grow out of.

But you’re not alone.

There’s a man with you, though his back is turned to Mark’s view. He blinks. His steps stop completely. Surely it could be anyone right? A neighbor? A classmate?

But that’s impossible. Not because class doesn’t start for three days or because you and him met the neighbors on all sides of your house, but because you lean up on your toes, the way you always did with Mark himself, and kiss the stranger’s cheek.

It would have been easy to lie to himself, but then it’s much too clear. He realizes it then as he stares, only a few steps away from the path that would have led to your steps, the steps he took when walking you back on your first date, intertwined hands swinging between the two of you.

He’s too late. Maybe much too late.

He was a fool all this time. Thinking that he could be better for you, that he could defy fate with his free will and urge the universe into letting you be together. Lucas was wrong; life isn’t free will, neither is love.

This is his fate, there’s no use denying it.

He stands staring for a few moments, simply gazing in complete desolation at the sight before him. This is it, this is the end. He’s ready to submit to his poor fate, the internalized idea he’s housed that he’d never be able to find a love like yours ever again, but then you see him, probably because he stands out like a stain of black paint on the green canvas of your lawn.

He doesn’t hear you, but your lips form his name, “Mark?” and your eyes blink in confusion.

He doesn’t wait too long anyways, for he’s already turned on his heels back to his car. Fuck fate and its tendencies, giving hope where there will only be heartbreak.

—SOMEWHERE BETWEEN THE FIRST TEAR AND THE FIRST CRASH.

The smell of you invades his senses, but he doesn’t care. It’s one of the first nights in a long time where you’ve agreed to go to a party with him. Though other girls beg for his attention, he’s still only got his eyes on you. Your outfit tonight is much too nostalgic.

“You know,” he whispers in your ear, dancing against your backside with a hand on your waist. “You look best in white.”

“I know,” you respond, chuckling whilst dancing back against him. He had taught you how to dance a while ago, and you just keep getting better and better.

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you, you little minx,” he teases, though a playful laugh leaves his throat. His words draw a knowing giggle from you, and Mark feels as though he could get drunk on the sound alone.

“Maybe,” you respond back, turning and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. This is when Mark gets a good look at you.

It’s so easy to remember the way you first appeared to him, standing awkwardly in a corner of a party just like this. This time the lights decorating the aura of this party are not purple, but his heart is all the same. You’re wearing the same outfit now, definitely at this point to tantalize him and tease him; you loved to make fun of him after he told you that he had fallen for you because of that dress alone.

But you’re different now.

You’re brighter, taller, more mature. Now you are not just your person carrying your own thoughts, but his as well. You know him, know his thoughts and his feelings, know his worries without asking. Your smile is bigger, it reaches your eyes more now than it did that first night, a forced simper at the strange guy coming to flirt with you. You dance with more confidence, you carry with yourself a quiet strength despite your hesitant nature.

He loves you. God, he loves you. He tells you just as much.

With a hand over your hip, he pulls you close. You think he’s going to press another tipsy kiss to your lips, but he doesn’t. Instead he brushes his lips to your ear and he whispers, so softly you would have missed it if you hadn’t been purposely filtering the party’s music to focus on his voice: “I love you.”

You blink, and stop your dancing. It’s the first time he’s ever said this to you.

“Mark…” you start, lips parting in surprise, but he’s pulled away to smile sweetly at you. It’s not flirtatious, the kind of smile he gives you before attempting to pull you in the bathroom for a quick one. Nor is it the knowing grin he shoots before guiltily asking you to go refill his drink. It’s a small one that barely touches the tips of his lips, and the look alone makes your heart melt in espousement. “I… I love you too.”

You had told him, of course, the other month when you had tore him apart in his bedroom after finding him hungover. But this time it’s real, and in the future you both will choose to remember this as the first time.

Some might think that it’s unorthodox to confess such strong feelings such as love in the middle of a party, sweltering with the heat of dancing bodies and the musky smoke in the air. But for the two of you, it doesn’t matter. It’s just you two in here; you only see each other.

—3 MONTHS CLEAN, ONE HOUR LATER.

Mark’s currently in his room, completely bare except for his bed and desk, sulking away. When he had returned home with a bitter lilt in his steps, Lucas didn’t need any explanation, stepping out to “meet Yuqi.”

Of course, it had been Lucas who had put him in this place of thinking he could get you back but in the end, it was only himself that he had to blame. He never had the chance, it was his fault for thinking he ever did.

He’s learned his lesson.

It’s only an hour later when Lucas knocks on the door again. Fuck, Mark thinks inwardly while rolling his eyes. It’s only the first day back, has this giant managed to lose his keys, again? He makes his way out to the door, already preparing to give Lucas hell for being so irresponsible, but Lucas never makes his appearance at the door.

“Y/N.”

“Mark, I’m sorry, but—”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shown up at your place uninvited.” He’s quick to interrupt you, shaking his head. It’s easy to pretend to be strong; he just needs to maintain a strong front until he shuts the door again.

“It’s not that, I—”

“I won’t do it again, I promise. I know you said you wanted to move on and I shouldn’t be surprised, it just hurts to see it, and so, I’ll—”

“Mark—”

“I hope that you’re very happy, and that he can make you happier than I di—”

“That’s my brother, you daft idiot!” You finally cut him off, voice rising to a volume louder than his. He had flinched at your sudden peak in volume. You give him a pointed look, and when he doesn’t dare speak again, you continue. “That’s my brother, Mark. He helps me move in every year, you know that!”

That’s true, he does know that. And he’s met your brother many, many times. Shit, he realizes.

“... Oh.”

“Mark Lee, you think I could move on from you that quickly? It’s been like, two months!” You scold him, as if the idea is preposterous.

“Well,” he reasons. “Technically we broke up a year ago.”

You seem to have the energy to argue back. “Okay, but I only really let you go when school ended this year.”

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment following your words, before you both start to laugh. You crack first, trying to remain serious when all you want to do is envelope him in a hug, for how could you ever love anyone else? You can’t even imagine trying to date anyone right now. He follows right after, shoulders relaxing as you start to chuckle.

“We look insane right now, you know,” he says, sighing as his chortle comes to an end.

“Yeah, and I’m insane because I drove like a madwoman chasing after my ex because he saw me with my brother,” you say with a pointed tone, to which Mark sighs.

“Okay, in my defense, I saw him from behind, and you are awfully touchy with your brother!” He starts, when you begin to laugh again, pure amusement breaking out across your visage. Wow, just five minutes ago he had been regretting all his life decisions, yet here he was with you again, making conversations like you had years ago in your relationship.

When the laughter dies down, the two of you are left staring at each other, and reality sets in. Yeah, he had run away when he saw you with your brother of all people, and you had chased after him, your ex. Where does that place you?

Mark speaks first, breaking the short silence. “I’m sober now, you know. I haven’t done anything, anything at all, in three months now.”

Surprise seems to claim your face at the revelation, and he’s not sure if he should feel proud that he managed to shock you with his success or saddened that it seems to be that much of a surprise. “Oh?” Your surprised expression is replaced with a smile. “I’m proud.”

He nods, unsure what to say next, but luckily you add on, “What made you decide to stop?” You’re undoubtedly reminiscing on all the times you had begged him to give it up, to which he would stubbornly resist.

“You.”

Your features contort into an incredulous expression. “Me.”

“Really,” Mark urges. “I…” he pauses, preparing himself for the words about to leave him. He had long pondered over this moment, wondering if it would truly happen. “I lost you, and I know that I said it was because we weren’t meant to be together but somewhere along the line I realized, I can live without weed, and parties, and alcohol but I can’t live without you.”

“Mark…” You start, lips parted as you grow silent.

“No, please, let me finish, I don’t want to take all the credit because it was Lucas who had to come and knock some sense into me and make me see: sure, fate can be real and that soulmate shit might be real too because I believe you’re mine, but I know that everything is a choice, including love.” His mention of Lucas has you smiling, and he has no doubt Lucas has talked to you recently, attempting to be the middleman once more. “I love you, there’s no doubt about that, I love you more than I love partying, my friends, or anything. And if I love you that much, there’s nothing that can keep me from you.”

He grasps at your hands, and thankfully, you don’t pull away. “Not God, not fate, not anybody. Only me. I was the only thing keeping us apart. I want to be with you, I want to make things better, and I promise… I promise I’ll do everything in my power to be the best for you.” Mark takes a deep breath, taking a moment to glance down at his hands holding yours before looking back to your eyes. “I can’t promise that I won’t have relapses. But I promise that as long as you’re there for me, I will be there for you. I’ll walk you through the shady areas, I won’t run away.”

“Mark—”

“I don’t know if my words will be enough for you to take me back but I swear to you on my entire being that I will be here—”

“Geez, Mark does sobriety make you extremely prone to interrupting, or what?” You butt in, but you laugh, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. Whether it’s you natural shine or tears building in your eyes, neither of you know. “Don’t even go there, or explain anymore. Of course I’ll take you back, you idiot. You think I would chase after you like that if I didn’t think about running back to you every day?”

This causes him to laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t. I wasn’t ready. I was waiting until I was good enough to run to you.”

“You ran away earlier,” you point out teasingly, and he rolls his eyes, pulling you close over the threshold of his apartment.

“That was the last time.”

Your hands find his chest, resting upon the expanse of it as you look up at him with a cheeky smile. “Better be, mister.”

“Oh,” he muses, as you wrap your fingers around the fabric of his shirt and all feels right again. “You’re bold.”

“A year apart does that to you,” you smile, still a hint of shyness on your lips as you finally tug him in, kissing him. You melt into him and his hands immediately find themselves on your hips, just where they belong.

Oh yes, there it is again, that feeling of euphoria. You’re the only drug, the only high he needs.

#NCT-WRITERS #mark lee angst #mark lee smut #mark smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee fanfic #nct angst #tw: smut #tw: drugs #tw: drinking

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1997devil · 3 years

Text

deals with the devil

pairing: mingyu x reader

w.c.: 2.8k

includes: incubus!mingyu, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, dirty talk & degradation, daddy kink, oral (fem receiving), fingering, creampie

a/n: this is me being self indulgent because that’s what got me 1k after all 🥵😛 i promise i’ll work on requests after this! i just needed to get this out of my system 🖤 also to clarify some things that may appear dubious, the drink the reader is holding is a potion by mingyu that he uses to lure her towards him! a lil fantastical touch i added to upkeep the demon theme lol

you mutter expletives under your breath when the dj hollers and shuffles to the next song on his shitty playlist of trashy holiday remixes.

you’re only here because your friend had begged you to come along with her, pleading with such vigor she might as well had just dragged you by your wrist. she ditched you the second she set foot in the house, latching her arms around her boyfriend’s neck, the one throwing the party and the one who hired said dj. it really just reaffirmed how your best friend had a shitty taste.

when you entered what appeared to be a bar area someone had shoved a solo cup into your hand, the inside sloshing with a liquid you knew was strong, would blow your mind away from the scent that wafted from it, and would leave you with a killer hangover tomorrow morning. you didn’t dare take a sip from it, though you held onto it so that your hand wouldn’t look so lifeless, hanging by your body.

the shitty music didn’t pound against your still sober mind on whichever floor you were currently on, which you were thankful for. you wander through the house – perhaps the one thing your friend’s boyfriend was good for was the expansive mansion his family lived in – stumbling past locked bedrooms and powder rooms. people who were already trashed, no doubt from the same drink that remained in your cup, lingered about in the hallways. you gingerly stepped beside them, getting further away from where the party was mainly situated, not really having a concrete plan in mind or any sense of direction in what appeared to be a labyrinth standing as a house.

a bedroom you happen to pass by left its door ajar, and something called you from within to look in. it didn’t hurt to take a rest for a bit from the killer heels your friend shoved your feet into. you’d call a cab from there and you’d finally return home, within your safe space underneath your duvet.

there appeared to be no one, and you braced yourself to let yourself in fully. your heels sank into the carpeted floors as you slowly headed towards the bed. it was still clean and neatly made, and you wonder how no one has stepped foot in this bedroom amongst all the other ones you just passed by. you heave a sigh as you gently sat down on the plush bed. you hadn’t had a single bite or drink since night befell and painted the sky pitch black. the cup that’s in your hand still remains untouched, and you take a small sip, the alcohol burning like fire down your throat as you swallow.

something in the corner of your peripheral vision catches your attention, flickering, appearing transparent then returning to opaque in a moment you’d miss if you blink. it appears strange, fascinating, and you sense a stirring sensation throughout your body the more you rest your eyes on it. a voice that begins to resonate in your mind beckons you to come closer.

it feels like you lose all your senses as you face the man standing before you, and your brain eventually feels more muddled when you try to recall just where and you’d seen him before.

“had my eyes on you since you walked in,” the unnamed man hums, stepping closer to you, an arm circling around your waist. it presses you closer against him, letting out a soft gasp. your arms seem to move on their own accord, resting on his chest as he looks down on you. “wanted to taste you so bad,” he mutters, voice dropping to something lower than a whisper like you were the only one meant to hear him.

“w-who are you?” the lump that’s lodged in your throat since you swallowed whatever had been in that cup clears up just enough for you to brokenly rasp out words. you meet the man’s eyes, dark as midnight, glows and keeps your attention on him. you feel as if all your senses are heightened as he runs his warm hands on your body.

“call me mingyu, angel,” he smirks, a wanton intonation lacing his voice, “though you’ll call me many other things later.”

“l-like what?” you whimper when his head drops to your neck, gently sucking on your skin, fierce enough for you to feel but not enough to leave marks yet.

“are you gonna stay to find out?” his lips tickle at your ear, nibbling on your earlobe, placing a kiss to the skin right below it. it hits a spot you didn’t know felt good, a high pitched whine leaving your mouth. you nod frantically, and mingyu lets out a dark chuckle at how desperate he’s already gotten you.

it feels like mingyu controls all your movement, taking over your senses as he leads you around the bedroom and slams you to the door. his hand places itself firmly on your waist, and the other hand goes to circle your neck, almost like a priceless accessory that decorates the clean space of skin, like an empty canvas. it’s tight, hot, and you’d happily die like this, under his hands.

tears line and spring from your eyes, rivulets tracking your cheeks and dripping from your jaw. mingyu laughs, a snarky sound that is lined with fire and hell.

“haven’t touched you at all, pet,” he purrs, leaning closer to you, his tall figure towering over you. it is only fitting that the title of the king and ruler of the underworld is crowned to someone built like him. he commands attention, creates control in any space and room he enters, and right now he was playing with yours. “what’s making you so needy?”

he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ears, a contrast to just how rough he’d been with you before.

“you,” you whisper in response. the smirk that remains on his lips is taunting. “what about me? i haven’t done anything to you.”

he continues. “what would you like me to do with you, angel? would you like me to make you feel good?”

the affirming nod you give is all the permission he needs as he presses his lips to yours, licks on your bottom lip as you easily grant him access.

–

“you wanna know a secret, angel?’ mingyu teases, slow and relaxed, unlike you who’s the spitting image of desperation and need for him. he’s been teasing you for what feels like hours now, reducing you to putty in his hands, just begging with whatever energy you have left for him to fuck you already.

you nod, masking your sounds as the pillow underneath you swallows your whine. you feel mingyu’s hand return to your body, slowly tracing a path of its own on your thighs, inching closer to your wetness but not quite reaching it yet.

“i’ve known you since before tonight, darling,” he mutters as his legs bracket your legs, fingers carding through your hair. “i’ve seen and watched you, even when you thought no one could see you.”

his gentle touch on your locks turns into a searing grasp as he pulls you up by your hair, making you stand on your knees. your hands try to grasp at something, until it travels to behind you, pressing your back to his chest.

“even when you thought no one could hear you as moaned and whined until you made yourself cum.” he bites out directly against your ear, hot breath fanning on your skin until the hairs on the nape of your neck arose.

“so damn pretty when you got your fingers fucking yourself fast and hard, hm?” he continues, punctuating every few words with a wet kiss to your jawline. “or when you think that dumb little toy you have can make you come. it’s comical, darling, that you think anything can make you feel as good as i do. you’ll come to know it, angel.” his hand comes down to your ass, gentle for a start, though mingyu knows you’ll beg for him to go harder. you let out a little yelp at the contact, and mingyu just feels even more fired up as he sees the red mark deepen on your skin.

he pushes you back down onto the bed. “m-mingyu-ah, d-do it already, pl-please,” you brokenly mutter, and mingyu delights in the way your voice cracks at every other syllable.

“do what, angel?” your hands firmly grasp on the sheets as you feel his lips travel downwards, tracing down your spine and the small of your back. he moves back just a bit so he isn’t sitting atop your legs anymore, then holds you by your hips to pull you up. your knees are barely strong enough to hold you up, and mingyu scoffs at what you’ve become under his touch.

“this?”

he runs a finger on your sopping wetness, and you loudly keen at his touch, finally. you momentarily remember that you’re nowhere near your own bed, yet you continue to release loud noises, not caring if anyone can hear you from outside.

his mouth falls onto your pussy next, accompanying the ministrations of his fingers weaving in and out of you while he sucks and licks until you’re shivering. the anticipation that finally erupted with him pleasuring you produces moans and groans that mingyu absolutely revels in.

“what do you want, angel?”

you keen loudly with your eyes shut, taking deep breaths to not come early even though it seems mingyu wouldn’t even mind.

“w-want you in me, gyu.”

you feel mingyu’s grin deepen as he eats you out. “good girl.”

he lifts his mouth from your wetness, though his fingers don’t pause. he adds another digit, your wetness coating them up to their knuckles, dripping down to your inner thighs as well. you whine, impatient, and mingyu calmly shushes you, his other hand traveling up your body to pinch and play with your nipples.

“need to prepare you first, angel. you need to be able to take all of me, right?” he quickens the pace of his fingers, three of them now fucking you. your response is cut off by a whine. his feels better than when you do it yourself, going in deeper than you ever would’ve reached yourself.

“look at you,” he mutters in disdain, “can barely even take my fingers. d’you think you can take my cock?”

“pl-please, no more teasing, f-fuck me already!” you snap at his teasing, though mingyu seems unbothered, barking a familiar mocking laugh as he slowly pulls his fingers out, sucking on them, letting your sweetness coat his tongue and whole mouth, savoring your taste. he smacks your ass once more for good measure.

“demanding. be fucking grateful i’ll let it slide,” he growls, running the head of his cock on your entrance, as he slowly pushes in. he chokes on his own moan as he can barely push in up to the head of his cock. you’re so tiny underneath him, barely even fitting his dick, yet your pleading drips out of your mouth so easily.

your impatience takes over as you fuck back on him, and mingyu groans at how more of your tight cunt is enveloping his cock, warm and feeling so good. a gasp leaves your lips at how big he is, and mingyu’s hands bracket your waist, seemingly trying to stop you from going further.

“angel, y-you’re too tight,” he choppily huffs, a light sheen of sweat perspiring on his skin.

it appears to be your last straw. “please, please, i need you! n-need your cock,” you gasp once more, “please, d-daddy!”

you don’t even seem to notice the name falling off of your lips, but it reinvigorates the fire within mingyu. all his composure, the control he’d worked so hard to maintain so he doesn’t just fuck and break you, ebbing out of him and traveling far.

“you asked for it.”

he finally fully pushes in, his cock fully inside of you, your ass pressing against his hips. you gently swivel your hips, easing the stretch when it feels like his dick is splitting you.

“sweetheart, you’re driving me insane. what a greedy ‘lil slut, huh?” he grinds up against you once, and your arms feel like they’re about to give out. “getting off on daddy’s cock like this.”

his hands leave your waist, traveling to your nipples, flicking and pinching down on them. your whole body feels like jelly, letting out what you think are the most pornographic moans you’ve ever heard in your life. all your senses have been overtaken by the demon hanging above you, reveling in all the energy he’s feeding off of your pleasure.

mingyu bends over to press his body against yours, then straightens back up, bringing you with him. his hand tangles into your hair, keeping you upright as he finally begins fucking you, building up a pace. the sounds of skin slapping against each other resound in the room that feels larger than life, like no one can bother you.

he feeds dirty praises to you, and every syllable he bites out is almost competing with the noises you make. he tells you he loves how dirty you are, how wet and warm your pussy is, how soft your breasts feel, how you’re such a whore who so easily breaks when daddy fucks her.

his words tether back and forth between praising and mocking you, telling you that you look so gorgeous like this, brokenly sobbing at the pleasure, wetness dripping onto the sheets.

“do you like it, angel?” it is an understatement, and you can only express it through your dirty whimpers. “i l-love it, daddy. love it so mmm-much, ah, daddy, m-mingyu, ah!” you hate how mingyu keeps his composure so well, a sharp contrast to you, ruined and wrecked beyond comprehension.

“fucking you stupid, hm?” mingyu taunts.

then, in a smooth stroke, he pulls out of you, and you gasp at the loss of contact. mingyu leaves no time for regret. he moves back, turning your body around, letting you rest on your back. his fingers wrap around your ankles, pushing your legs up until he’s got you practically bending in half. he enters you again, easily picking up the pace he set beforehand. the new position easily leads him to the spot that makes you see stars.

your jaw falls as he continues to prod at the spot, hitting it perfectly every time. “right there, baby?” you deliriously nod, head lolling to the side.

mingyu’s lips on yours are soft and gently prodding, overwhelming you with the different sensations he’s subjecting your body and mind to.

“f-fuck, break me, daddy!”

mingyu’s lips stretch into a devilish smile.

mingyu slams even harder into you, pushing you to your limits. you see red, hot, and you know you won’t last much longer. you whimper, trying to work your voice up to warn mingyu, though you fail. he reads through you, his pace unforgiving as his hand comes to play with your clit, and you howl at the surge of pleasure that throbs through your body.

mingyu tightly grabs onto your thigh, pressing it down to keep you in position. “where do you want me, angel?”

“mmm, inside. f-fill me up, yeah, feels s-so good,” you’re completely out of it, slurring your words, not registering anything but mingyu’s warm hands running on your body and wetness, completely enveloping you until you’re teetering off the edge, ready to let the winding coil in your stomach burst.

mingyu groans, long and drawn, and makes the tension in your boy snap. you come from him coming, feeling him fill you up with hot spunk and pushed in deeper from how he doesn’t stop thrusting. sparks and sensations overflood you until you’re left with a gaping mouth and dripping pussy, as mingyu finally pulls out.

he coos as he watches you clench around nothing, his come dripping out of you. he bends down, using his tongue to clean up whatever had spilled out of you, then fucking the remnants back in with his finger. the overstimulation makes you keen once more, and mingyu finally takes mercy on you.

his lips gleam in the dark light, coated with the liquids dripping from your wetness. he kisses you again, and you taste the way yours and his come mix together in your mouths. your eyes flutter shut, feeling as if you’re suspended in mid-air as mingyu transforms from the ruthless dominant earlier to something much more gentle, lazily clashing his tongue with yours and pressing his digits down on your thighs to soothe the strained muscles.

it takes a while until he separates from you, and you can barely keep your eyes open as he smirks at you.

–

(you wake up the next morning in your bed, a sated soreness plaguing your entire body so great you feel like such pain would’ve only erected if you had thrown yourself off of a cliff.

a sigil that would’ve been invisible to anyone else but you brandish itself on your right pinky finger.

a feeling sinks into you, one that tells you he’d return soon.)

#seventeen #svt #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fic #seventeen smut #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu fic #mingyu smut #t:fic #f:spicy #mine #merry xmas freaks 🖤

343 notes · View notes

katsukisbimbo · 4 years

Text

DDAENG

✯ pairing: hawks x reader

✯ genre: FLUFFYYDS!!

✯ summary: fan! hawks meeting his newly debuted idol crush y/n at a fansign!

✯wordcount: 2.1k+

✯warning: just swearing and hawks being thirsty <3

✯ note: this literallt came to me because i was trying to turn @hoodtoshi into a bts stan (lowkey succeeded) and i was jus like yea, thirsty hawks

-ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥ ̥ ̮ ̥ ⊹ ‧̫‧ ⊹ ̥ ̮ ̥ ‧̥̥‧̥̥͙　⑅ˏ͛--ˏ͛⑅　‧̥̥͙‧̥̥

- you were nervous

- this was your first fan meet after all,, but you were still nervous

- you were only 19 and had already debuted!!

- that didn’t happen to just anyone!!

- you worked super hard to get to where you are today!! everyone knew that!!

- you sighed as your make-up artist continued to paint your lips a dark red colour

- you honestly didn’t look like yourself, but this was to keep up the whole idol image i guess

- “jinhee, how many people are outside? i’m sure only two people came to see me..” you pouted, resulting in your make-up artist to smack your cheek lightly

- “dOn’t say that you dummy! i’m sure a lot of people came to see you!” she scolded, wiping off the excess makeup on a towel

- “now get out, you’re done”

- “i don’t wanna”

- she raised a newspaper and flexed, ready to beat the fuck out of you if she heard another whisper of self-deprecation from you

- “fine! i’m going!” you grumbled, pouting at oncoming soreness of your feet from your heels

- why did idols have to wear heels anyway?

- okay no, you knew why, but sTill!! they sucked!

- you smiled as you saw the buffet table

- one little snack wouldn’t hurt

- >:)

- “keigo stop fuckign puSHING”

- “im so EXCITED!! i’m meeting THE y/n you SLUTBAG!!” keigo yelled as he shook his companion

- dabi sometimes questioned why he was still friends with keigo

- “i SEE that you asshole”

- keigo took this opportunity to punch dabi in the arm, causing dabi to retaliate, causing kEigo to retaliate, causing dAb-

- okay so

- “i’ve been in love with her ever since she debuted!! and she debuted ALONE!! a whole solo artist!! the talent!! the beauty!! i’m in love!!”

- dabi raised a brow at his friend

- “didn’t you tweet about wanting to ‘put a baby inside of her’?”

- keigo felt his cheeks heat up at the possibility of you seeing his indecent tweets about you

- what if you had seen? what if you think he’s a creep? what if you already hated him??

- keigo felt his anxiety creep onto his shoulders as he continued to overthink, not realizing that they were already next to go in

- ruh roh raggy

- keigo didn’t know anything BUT anxiety

- rip keigo we’ll miss you big daddy :,(

- “please come in, please don’t shout”

- whO was shouting?? nobody was shouting

- keigo wasn’t gonna shout

- as keigo was about to shout, he felt himself be silenced by his partner

- all keigo could feel was betrayal

- “calm down you hot dog, you’re going to TALK to her in person jfc. you can tell her how much you want to father her children then”

- it was almost time and you were STILL at the food table

- you saw a small intern approach you with an uneasy look on her face

- she was for sure about to reprimand you

- “m-ms. y/n,, we have to go now!” she stuttered

- she was sO! cute you just couldn’t say no

- so you decided to just sneak a few bags of chips under your skirt before smiling and quickly following her

- you made your way to the stage, peeking behind the curtains

- you saw a huge crowd of people, mostly males, but one man who sat near the front caught your eye

- he had bright yellow eyes with matching blond hair, even wearing some eyeliner

- the unknown male looked absolutely delectable

- he made you bark a little tbh

- you took a deep breath before you were pushed by your manager on the stage, cheers suddenly reaching your ears as your fans confessed their love for you

- quit shamelessly might you add

- you blushed as you watched the cute blond-haired man cup his hands around his mouth and yell—

- “I LOVE YOU Y/N! IM YOUR NUMBER ONE FAN!” he yelled, gaining the attention of everyone in the room

- soon everyone started to yell that they were your biggest fan and that the blond man could never even compare

- but the man had nothing but a satisfied smirk plastered on his handsome face

- did he enjoy starting riots?

- you sat on the chair, placing your hands on top of the table

- this was a small table ngl

- luckily there was a sheet on the table, hiding your nervously bouncing legs

- just imagine watching a fancam of you bouncing your leg

- people would still thirst for that

- anyway

- “thank you guys for coming! i’m so excited to meet you all!” you started, smiling at the large number of people

- “you guys can ask me questions or some things? i don’t know?” you laughed, feeling slightly awkward

- you didn’t know how to be a person

- “can you do a dance for us!!” a young boy, about the age of 7 yelled, jumping up and down in front of his seat

- “what dance?” you queried, raising your brow in curiosity

- “move by taemin!!” he cheered, immediately dancing

- you laughed at his adorable actions

- you were totally gonna dance for him!

- you got up as the music started to play in the background, moving to the side of the table and sensually moving to the beat while the audience watched intently

- you carefully moved your hips, hitting all the right beats

- this wasn’t any different than dancing in front of the camera people, plus you had to get used to an audience

- it also wasn’t any different from how you had to dance to kpop songs from when you were younger for your family!!

- (no, literally. the amount of times i had to dance to 2NE1’s i am the best, girls generation’s gee, and wonder girls’ nobody. the dances are engraved in my head. 6 year old giri had to dance or else)

- as the song faded out, you held your pose before bowing, smiling at the little boy who continued to hype you up

- “holy fuck.. dabi that was hot” hawks whispered, tightening his grip around his friends sleeve

- “jeez kei, ease up a bit” dabi complained, prying his friends hand off of him

- “oh my god she’s such a great dancer, do you think she’ll like me if i learn how to dance too?” he questioned, grabbing his friend by the front of his shirt, pissing dabi off once more

- “no. not if you don’t stop being a fuckinf weirdo”

- hawks pouted

- dabi grinned

- how cruel

- “does anyone else have a request?”

- “WAP!!” a number of people yelled, resulting in your face heating up

- how would they suggest such a lewd dance!

- especially when there were children here!

- “haha! that doesn’t seem very appropriate!” you laughed it off, trying your best to mask your uncomfortableness

- hopefully this would end soon

- “no! can you dance to gashina please!” a girl yelled, catching your attention

- hm, gashina was actually a very good suggestion

- you could do this! you could be as great as sunmi!

- okay maybe no. sunmi was a god <3

- you did the routine, catching the eyes and the hearts of the audience

- “fuck i think i’m in love dabi” hawks whined, clutching his chest

- he had a lovesick expression plastered on his face

- he was totally whipped for you, no doubt about it

- before you knew it, it was time for the fans to have a minute to speak to you and for them to get their albums signed!

- you had recently debuted with your album, dawn in tokyo

- you had taken inspiration from the time where you had left your hotel at dawn and walked around the streets of tokyo, sitting near a bridge and writing lyrics for some of the songs in the album

- hence the name of the album

- most of your album was written in japan

- hawks felt himself get more excited as he came closer to you, holding tightly to the fabric of his friends jacket, which wouldn’t surely gotten him slapped if you weren’t so near

- before he knew it, he was already next in line, dabi already sitting in front of your figure while holding your soft, delicate looking hand in his large ugly ones

- this made hawks’ chest bubble with jealousy

- >:(

- sure, you had a large fan base, but it still hurt to see people touch you the way he wanted to

- it was now his turn, he walked up the stairs with his wobbly knees, wanting to just sit and be near you

- he knew that you would be able to calm his nerves, or make him spontaneously combust

- “hey! i’m y/n! nice to meet you!” you smiled, out-stretching your hand to him, offering to place your hand in his own

- he swiftly, but gently grasped your hand, before placing it on his cheek, letting you hold the soft chub of his cheek

- no fan had been this brave to do this. it was quite surprising to be honest

- he wasn’t breaking any rules so you decided to fuck it and go with it

- you placed both your hands on his cheeks, slightly squishing them together, causing him to adorably pout

- “dash not nishe” he mumbled, brows furrowing

- you laughed before letting go of his face, bringing your hands back to your side of the table

- “you’re so cute! can i sign your album for you?” you smiled, tilting your head to the side

- hawks just..dieded

- mans said peace out

- your beauty was incomprehensible

- phew, he had to get his shit together! he was trying to impress u! he wanted to be the mc in a wattpad story

- we all wanna be y/n

- anywayss

- “sure dove! u can make it out to keigo, u can put your number in it too ;)” he winked

- KDNDHSK

- DID HE—

- DID HE JUST ASK FOR YOUR NUMBER

- LIKE—

- nobody:

- y/n: i’m not gon do it girl.. i’m just thinking about it

- “ah! sorry cutie! i’m not allowed to share my number :333”

- you tried to laugh as you died inside

- he smiled, before placing a kiss on your fingertips

- “don’t worry dove,i respect that” he winked

- BARK BARK

- “i have some gifts for you!” he announced, placing the huge paper bag on top of the table

- he first pulled out your favourite snack before handing it to you

- how did he get these??

- omg

- then, he brought out a bottle of perfume, and a new song writing notebook!

- this was great!!

- “oh my gosh! keigo! you’re too sweet” you cooed,

- this was a lot

- “i also have something else.. would you wear this flower crown for me and do some fan-service?” he queried

- of course you would!

- you nodded before placing the flower crown on top of your head

- “what do you want me to say?”

- “say.. i’ll be a good dove for hawks. is that okay?” he smirked, tracing small circles into the palm of your hands

- w-wHAT

- was this legal

- your managers were literally ignoring you—

- “o-oh! sure! uhm-“

- god you were going to regret this

- “i-i’ll be a good dove for hawks!” you whimpered, showing off your practiced aegyo

- “ahhh! my heart!” he gasped, dramatically clutching his chest

- “excuse me, we need the next fan to come up” you manager tapped the both of your arms

- you nodded before smiling at hawks and waving goodbye

- you were going to miss him :((

- ig it just wasn’t meant to be

- the night you had gotten home, you decided to go through your gifts

- you were particularly interested in the gift you had gotten from the blond man

- it was really sweet of him to get you a notebook

- the moment you had opened it, you had noticed that something was written on the first page

- ‘xxx-xxx-xxxx call me pretty girl <3’

- he was a bold onealright

- you were contemplating on actually calling him

- he could leak your number!

- well, you could just wait for him to speak

- fuck it

- you dialed the number on your phone and waited as it rang

- “hello?”

- “i-is this keigo?”

- “hey dove, i’m glad you called”

- y/n: i did it :33

529 notes · View notes

imagine-a-life-like-this · 3 years

Text

Forget Him (P.JM)

Warnings : partying, mentions of sex, swearing, punching

Synopsis : her relationship with notorious fuckboy Kim Taehyung is over, but she can’t seem to move on. her best friend tells her the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, so she takes his advice. little does she know, he’d do more than just help her get over Taehyung.

Word Count : 3703

When my eyes met his I could feel my heart break all over again. It’s not that I expected to never see him again, we go to the same university. I just didn’t expect to see him with someone new so soon. I thought I meant more to him than that, but he warned me from the start.

“I hope you’re not looking for anything serious.” I looked up from my plate of food, curiousness prevalent on my features, even I could tell without seeing my own face. “I like you, but if you’re looking for serious I’ll just break your heart.” A smile took over my previous curious expression.

“I have thick skin; you’ll have to try really hard to break my heart.” I joked before taking another bite of the food he paid for. “Besides, I’m way too busy with university to be serious.” It was his turn to smile at me and I had to calm my heart. I could do casual, it’s for the best anyway. I don’t need any distractions. But at this point, who am I trying to convince?

I was telling the truth when I said he’d have to try really hard to break my heart. I’d been hurt in the past, it took a lot for me to open up, but it seemed as if he made it his mission to do exactly that. He was perfect, for me and just in general. And the girl currently wrapped up in his arms, smiling up at the man I never meant to fall for, is nothing short of perfect as well. There was no doubt in mind moving on would be easier for him than it would be for me, but did he really have to rub it in my face like that?

“You say you hate the guy and yet you can’t take your eyes off of him.” The familiar sound of my best friend’s voice tore my attention away from the sickeningly sweet couple. He draped his arm across my shoulders and dragged me away from the scene. “You know the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” I playfully slapped him.

“Only you would say that to me.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes. When I met Hoseok, I was immediately drawn to him. He made it so easy to open up to him and to fall for his energy. I’d never gotten close to someone as quickly as I did with him, and for good reason, but he never made me doubt my decision.

“Just come hang out with me and my other friends and stop looking so pitiful.” I rolled my eyes, but I wouldn’t protest to being as far away from Taehyung as possible. “Jimin, Namjoon, this is my best friend Y/N.” He quickly greeted when we approached two guys standing off in their own little world. “Can you watch her so I can go get us drinks?” I wasn’t someone who needed to be watched, but I appreciated the sentiment.

“Any reason you need to be babysat?” Jimin chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. I rolled my eyes at the cockiness that he exuded, so similar to Taehyung’s, but I trusted Hoseok’s judgment of his character and refrained from punching him.

“My ex is here with his new girlfriend.” Could I even call him that? Were we ever actually dating?

“You look stunning.” He said almost breathlessly, reaching out to take one of my hands in his. “How did I get so lucky to have you by my side?” His smile was genuine as he looked down at me, slowly wrapping his arms around me and pulling me closer to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“I should be the one asking that, Tae.” We spoke so softly, as if we were afraid others would hear and pull us out of this bubble we created for ourselves.

“Well we should get going. I have something special planned for our 100th day.” My heart skipped a beat at the thought that he put together something special just for me. If he still wanted casual, he wouldn’t go out of his way for something so minuscule as the 100th day, would he? I didn’t let myself dwell on it too much as got into the car when he opened the door for me. He held my hand the entire drive to what I thought was a restaurant, but instead he stopped by a field. In the distance I could see a small table for two set up, candles adorning the table.

“You did all of this for me?” I asked when we approached the table. I looked at what we’d be eating and saw he had made my favourites.

“You’re my princess, and I wanted to show you that.” We said casual, but neither of us really meant it, did we? I couldn’t help the smile I wore the entire night, looking across the table to see the man I was falling in love with without even realizing it.

“Here, let’s get your party on.” Hoseok placed a red solo cup filled with who knows what in my hand. I thanked him and tried my best to forget everything.

The next morning I could feel the headache before I even opened my eyes. The night came back to me in flashes as I tried to piece together how I could have gotten so drunk. It wasn’t until I felt the bed move as a body next to me rolled over that I wondered just how drunk I was. “God what a night.” He groaned as he opened his eyes and smiled at me. Park Jimin was in my bed staring at me with a smile. “Good morning, angel.” I chuckled at the nickname Hoseok gave me our first year here. We were paired up for a dancing project and he told me I resembled an angel to him when I danced.

“Good morning, Jimin.” I smiled back as the night continued to return in flashes. The images of rough kisses and tossed clothes hit me suddenly. I had to clench my legs as I thought of how the rest of the progressed, suddenly wanting to feel it all again while sober. Hoseok was right, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, but I wasn’t about to tell him that.

“About last night..” Jimin started as he slowly started to sit up, the blanket falling from his bare torso, allowing me a good look, a look I’d remember.

“Want to do it again?” He looked at me with wide eyes before smiling and moving closer to me.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Being with Jimin felt easy. I didn’t have to open up about past heartbreak or try to be a proper lady. We didn’t pretend that we were anything more than fuck buddies. There was no fancy dinners or empty promises. Just take out and crumpled bed sheets. “Let me watch you at dance practice today.” He said as he hovered over me, placing a kiss on my nose. I pushed him off of me as I stood to get ready.

“And why would I do that, Park Jimin?” I made my way to my closet, not bothering to cover my currently nude body with a blanket, it wasn’t anything he hasn’t seen.

“Because Hoseok goes on and on about how hot you look while dancing.” He was soon behind me, his hands on my shoulders as he kissed the back of my neck and slowly made his way around to my lips, bringing me in for a deep, needy kiss.

“Really, Hoseok called me hot?” I didn’t believe that for a second. Hoseok flirted with me in the past, that’s not something we’ve kept a secret. But not once in the three years I’ve known him has he ever called me hot. Stunning maybe. Ethereal definitely. Especially when it came to my dancing. The only person I knew who could beat me in a contest was him, but it would be pretty close.

“Okay so he didn’t say hot per se, but the way he describes you, I need to see it for myself.” I could see the pleading in his eyes and decided to cave to his puppy dog eyes just this one time. What’s the worst that could happen?

“Just this once, but you’re buying food after.” His smile widened as he quickly agreed and helped me pick out an outfit for practice.

I could feel his eyes on me the entire time I was dancing. It almost made me stumble a few times, but I was able to keep my composure as if he wasn’t even there. By the end of practice, Jimin was jumping up from his spot, spewing out about how good it was, trying his best not to let Hoseok in on the fact that we’ve been sleeping together.

“I told you, she looks like an angel!” Hoseok added onto the nonsense that Jimin was spewing. I couldn’t help but laugh and roll my eyes at the two of them. “Don’t laugh when you know it’s the truth. You could make it in the big leagues, I just know it.” I playfully slapped him.

“As much as I love the two of you complimenting me, and trust me I love it, Jimin promised dinner.” I smiled over at him to see he was already smiling at me with a look in his eyes that reminded me of Taehyung.

Six months. We both said it would be casual and that no strong feelings would be involved, but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t think we’d last this long. I could do casual for a couple of months, but we’ve been together for six months now. Every time I look at him, he’s looking at me with a look in his eyes that reminds me of a lovesick child. It’s the same look I give him, I’m sure.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I let out a little laugh as I covered my face. He reached over and took my hands from my face.

“Because you’re so beautiful.” He kissed me before I could say anything. My heart was threatening to beat right out of my chest, and I could swear he could hear it, but he didn’t say anything. The words were burning in my throat, dying to come out, but I knew that would ruin everything. So I swallowed them down and pretended I didn’t fall absolutely head over heels in love with him.

“Should we text Namjoon to join us? I don’t want him to feel left out.” I pouted at Hoseok and Jimin. Since I met the two of them at the party a month ago, I’d actually grown quite close to them, Jimin more so than Namjoon for obvious reasons, but I’ll be forever grateful to have the two of them in my life.

“As if I didn’t already text him.” Hoseok jokingly rolled his eyes. “I know you love him more than us.”

“Not true and you know that Hobi!” I said as I jumped on his back. His hands immediately wrapped around my legs to stop me from falling. “No one loves me the way you do so you’re my favourite.” I kissed his cheek as I usually do. I could sense the difference in atmosphere after looking over to Jimin who was staring at us with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Still offended I wasn’t invited to watch dance practice.” Namjoon huffed when we met him at the restaurant. I pouted up at him and told him he could come to the next one if he wanted to.

“How did you even convince Jimin to buy you dinner?” Hoseok asked, looking between the two of us. “I’ve known him for years and he’s never offered to buy me anything!” I stifled a laugh at that fact.

“I’m cuter than you, what did you expect?” I joked, wrapping my arms around the arm Jimin had resting on the table. He looked over to me with a wide smile and placed his hand on mine.

“Damn I see how it is. I’m not a pretty girl so I got to buy my own food.” Hoseok shook his head.

“Don’t even pretend like you don’t always buy my food too!” I joked back, unwrapping myself from Jimin as my food was placed in front of me. Just as I was about to dig in, I heard a familiar voice from behind me and I immediately lost my appetite.

“Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.” He exclaimed with a wide smile and a pretty girl tucked into a side, a different girl than the one at the party. She glared at me with a look that could kill, but I didn’t pay her any mind as my eyes couldn’t move from Taehyung, standing there dressed in all black looking like some sort of god.

“Well I’m here.” I replied, trying my best to hide the hurt in my voice. I couldn’t let him know he hurt me.

“I think it’s time we go our separate ways. This already went on too long.” I blinked back my tears and gave him a smile, telling him I agree.

“We said casual. A one-year anniversary is too serious.” I chuckled as I took a sip of my coffee. “This was fun though. You were a good distraction when I needed it.” He chuckled and shook his head.

“Yeah, you were too. I’ll see you around.” He stood from the table and I watched as he walked away. I just sat there, staring in the direction he left long after he was out of view. After I finished my coffee, I went back to my apartment and stared at the gift on my table. Something I found that would have been perfect for Taehyung. I wasted my money even though I knew it was all casual. I fell in love with a man who didn’t know what love was.

“Why are you standing there like we’re going to ask you to join us?” Hoseok snapped, anger prevalent on his features and I couldn’t help but smile at my best friend.

“Awe come on, we’re friends, right Y/N?” A small laugh came out of my mouth when he said that.

“We’ve never been friends, Taehyung.” Namjoon and Jimin seemed to put two and two together that Taehyung was the ex from the party a month ago. I could see it in the way their faces changed from confusion to anger. Jimin wrapped his arm around me.

“Should we get this to go, love?” He asked me softly. I looked away from Taehyung and met Jimin’s eyes. He seemed to always have an unreadable emotion in his eyes, and I just wish I could read him as easily I can Hoseok.

“No that’s alright, babe.” I played along with the prettiest smile I could muster while Taehyung’s eyes were still on me. “I’m not going to let irrelevant people ruin our good day.” I looked up at Taehyung who rolled his eyes.

“So much for not having time for relationships.” He muttered just loud enough for the table to hear as he walked away, the girl asking him a million questions. I chuckled at his annoyed expression and the way he all but pushed her away.

“You did not tell us that the notorious Kim Taehyung was your ex.” Namjoon said when the two were out of earshot. Jimin removed his arm from around me and just stared at his food while he ate.

“Not something I like to brag about, Joonie. Besides, it wasn’t anything serious.” Hoseok scoffed at that.

“One year isn’t casual, Y/N.”

“You dated him for a year?!” Jimin basically shouted at Hoseok’s words. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“We weren’t really dating, guys. Really it’s not a big deal.”

“It was a big enough deal that we had to babysit you at that party.” Namjoon added and I rolled my eyes and just let the conversation drop. It wasn’t something I wanted to talk about. Falling in love with Taehyung wasn’t my finest moment, and I’d rather forget we ever had something.

A few days after the incident at the restaurant, I found myself sitting at a café, my drink sitting on the table getting colder as the minutes passed. He was always good at making me wait, and I began to wonder if he was even showing up. After sitting there for almost 30 minutes, I reached for my drink and got up to leave. “Hey! Sorry I’m late.” He ran in, out of breath and sat down across from me.

“It’s not new. I should just stop showing up on time.” I said as monotone as I could.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’ll try to be better; I promise.” I furrowed my brows at his words. “I want to try again. I miss us. I was stupid to think things could be casual with you.” I crossed one leg over the other and sat back in my chair, my thoughts a jumbled mess. “I know you’re dating that guy, but I also know that you still love me.” I thought back to Jimin and how he distanced himself from me these last few days. I tried texting him and calling him, but it seemed as if he was ignoring me, ever since he found out about Taehyung.

“I love Jimin.” I told him simply and went to stand when my eyes met Jimin’s, sitting across from a girl who seemed completely oblivious to her surroundings. Taehyung turned to see what I was staring at.

“That asshole.” Taehyung seethed, standing from the table and storming towards Jimin. Jimin stood before Taehyung reached him but that didn’t stop Taehyung from grabbing the collar of his shirt and yelling at him. I knew I needed to stop him before anything else happened, but I was frozen in spot. The other patrons looked on, wondering what was happening at this usually quiet café. It wasn’t until Taehyung threw a punch that I was running over to them and throwing myself in between them.

“Stop!” I yelled as I put my hands on Taehyung’s chest. He looked down at me and his features softened. “It’s okay, Tae. Jimin and I aren’t dating.”

“What?” He asked, looking between the two of us. “But you just said you love him.” I nodded and took one of Tae’s hands.

“I did say that. Let’s go somewhere else to talk.” I turned towards Jimin and the girl he was with. “I’m so sorry. I’ll call you later, please answer.” Jimin just looked at me with tears in his eyes, but I wrote that off as pain from the punch Tae threw. Taehyung and I walked out of the café hand in hand, and it brought me back to the days we were okay.

“Tae can you stop walking so fast.” I said when we were outside. Just as he stopped, I felt another hand wrap around my wrist, and by the way Tae’s eyes widened, I knew it was Jimin before I turned around. When I looked up at him, he let go of my wrist and cupped my face before pressing his lips to mine. The kiss was different than the others we shared. It wasn’t needy or demanding. It was soft and filled with passion. Butterflies filled my stomach, and I couldn’t help but kiss back, my hand dropping from Taehyung’s.

“I love you.” He whispered, hands still cupping my face. I said the words to piss Taehyung off, knowing I couldn’t allow myself to fall more in love with him. I couldn’t get back with him knowing how fast he moved on. Deep down, I knew he just wanted me back because he couldn’t have me. Because I wasn’t letting myself be hurt over his absence.

But as I stared into Jimin’s eyes, I thought back to all the moments we shared, in and out of my bedroom. How he never thought twice about protecting me, without even knowing the truth. The way he looked at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. The obvious jealousy at me and Hoseok that I wrote off as awkwardness about Hoseok not knowing about us. How he would always bring me snacks when he knew something was wrong, even at 3 in the morning. He was always there, little by little kicking Taehyung out of my heart.

“Please don’t go to him.” Jimin added when I didn’t say anything, his hands dropping from my face. I turned towards Taehyung, seeing he was just standing there, fuming as he watched us.

“How can you say you love her when you were just in there with another girl?” He yelled, taking a step towards Jimin. I stepped in between them, hoping Taehyung wouldn’t throw another punch.

“How can you say you love her when you’ve been sleeping around since you guys broke up?” Taehyung scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know anything.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you don’t deserve her!”

“And you do?”

“Can you two just shut up!” I yelled. “Tae, I don’t want to be with you. There’s nothing between us anymore.”

“You can’t seriously tell me you’re choosing him.” Taehyung took a step back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“My love life has nothing to do with you, not anymore. Jimin, can you please take me home.” I looked up at his bruised face and he nodded, draping an arm across my shoulders and took me away from Tae. “Thank you.” I whispered as we walked. “And I’m sorry. I never thought he’d act like that.”

“I meant it you know. I love you.” He was already looking down at me when I looked up.

“Me too.” I didn’t when I said those words to Taehyung, but I did now.

#forget him #bts #bts imagine #park jimin #park jimin imagine #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon

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