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catboyieejeno · 9 months

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don't kiss and tell: part 4 ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

other parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

pairings: best friend! mark + best friend! jeno + best friend! hyuck x female! reader summary: “you’re mine, yeah?” — the finale of the don’t kiss and tell series. content: non-idol au, angst, hurt + comfort, smut, unprotected sex, pet names, spitting (only once), very plot heavy! read the other parts if you haven’t already! wc: 9.4k

masterlist

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18+ minors do not interact !

the first sip of soju mark had the night that he met you was nothing compared to his final sip that evening. honestly speaking, he didn't want to drink soju at all; he always preferred beer because—well, it didn't make his face and ears go quite as red and it paired better with his favorite snacks. at least that's what he thought until he found himself at the quiet corner store by his apartment late on a thursday night, where he saw you for the first time.

you sat alone atop a tall stool, glowing from the warmth of the summer night's heat with an impressive six bottles of soju by your side. instantly, his plan to grab a few beers and some junk food to take back to his place after a tiresome, uninspiring day vanished.

he'd never admit it to you, but you were quite a pitiful sight—slumped over the table and halfway through your second bottle with black rings of mascara around your eyes. you were obviously not having a good day; that, and the fact that it was half past midnight, sealed his fate: in a moment's notice, he didn't know you, but even then, he decided that you didn't deserve to be out so late, upset and drinking by yourself.

that night, mark lee approached you, be it out of intrigue or intense sympathy, and unknowingly catalyzed the beginning of your friendship.

"do you plan on drinking all that by yourself?"

you didn't look up at first, staring blankly at his shoes that came to an abrupt stop a short bit away from you. for a while, you didn't say anything, either, completely ignoring his presence as you wallowed in your state of sadness.

just when he thought your silence was a polite form of rejection and made the first move to step away, the screech of the stool dragging against the ground drew his attention. you were looking at him now, one foot pushing the chair as a wordless invitation for him to sit down.

you're quick to shake around one of the soju bottles for him, watching the little tornado form a spiral behind the clear green glass. after twisting it open, you hand it to him, clinking your bottle against his and not waiting before bringing it to your lips for a sip.

he watches as he drinks, then follows suit, taking note of the fact that your gulp is significantly longer than his. you scrunch up your face at the taste, huffing out, and he asked, "do you not like this flavor?"

nothing.

mark takes another apprehensive sip and sighs. he'd much rather be at home having his beer with his loud roommates who hog his snacks. even if he were to have been alone, the more probable outcome since they went out often, he might still have been fine. why did he have to come up to you in the first place?

deciding this would be his last attempt at conversation, mark clears his throat, "do you wanna talk about it? i won't even say anything if you want. sometimes it's good to vent, ya know?"

truthfully, he's not expecting you to answer, and he's begun planning how he's gonna get up and politely excuse himself when for the first time, you meet his eyes. your hand dances across the table, taking the small, metal bottle cap and extending the attached metal strip until it's poking upwards. you hand it to him expectantly.

"do you-" he holds it up between his index and thumb, "do you want me to flick it..?"

you nod, "we'll take turns asking questions, and whoever flicks it off gets their question answered. if it doesn’t come off on your turn, you take a drink." your voice is not nearly as quiet or timid as he expected it to be, and it takes him by surprise. your speech is also not slurred, meaning either your drinking tolerance is relatively high, or you were still early into your night's mission of destroying your liver when he ran into you.

his train of thought stutters momentarily, but he clears his throat and managed to form a sentence, "wouldn't we get to know each other better if we were actually answering the questions?"

nonchalantly, you shrug, "i think the questions you're willing to ask a complete stranger say a lot about you."

mark blinks once at you before readjusting in his seat. he thinks for a second before nodding to himself, "okay. what's your favorite color?"

there's a small clink as he flicks the coiled metal, but it doesn't come off. you snort at his plain and boring question, taking the cap from his hands. as he awaits your question, he takes a sip, only to choke on it as your words leave your lips.

"are you like a pervert or something?" flick. it doesn’t come off.

"what? no!" instantly, he coughs out, wiping his mouth on his jacket sleeve, "why would you even think that?"

"you saw a girl drinking on her own and came over to talk to her. maybe you wanna take advantage of me or something..." you trail off, continuing after taking a drink. "anyway, that's not how you play—you weren't supposed to answer. you also can't ask me a question unless you flick for it after, but we'll call that a practice round."

"you just asked if i was a pervert! how was i meant to not answ-"

"that's also a question," you warn, waving the little green cap around in front of his face. he begrudgingly takes it, sitting up much straighter as he tries to conjure an equally staggering question to ask you.

"why would you let a random stranger join you for a drink on a street corner? what if i was a pervert?"

"that's two questions," you sigh out, but he fails to flick off the coil off so you take it from him again.

"if you're not a pervert, then why did you come up to me?"

as your finger meets the cap, it sends flying the piece of metal. mark's lips purse, realizing he actually owes you an answer this time. he also realizes… he doesn’t have one—not a very good one at least.

the tips of his ears are glowing hot as he clears his throat, “well, i-i was gonna… you just- and then i saw you and-” he pauses to take a deep breath, pleading with himself to stop his pathetic stuttering. really, he came up to you because you were sad, lonely, and drinking by yourself on a random street corner; he can't just say that though. you would be offended if he stated it so plainly.

after a short moment, racking his brain and sitting under your expectant gaze, mark gathers himself and his answer.

“today hasn’t been great. i was gonna go home to mope and drink, too. I only came to pick up some alcohol and that’s when I saw you sitting here, drinking by yourself. so, I figured, you know... that neither of us deserve drink alone...”

he hardly maintains eye contact as he trails off and you’re grateful, because there’s a small smile fighting to creep onto your lips. he's charming, albeit a little awkward.

“that’s a good answer,” you decide and finish downing your drink, spinning around a new bottle and twisting off the cap.

mark, newly encouraged by your praise, holds his hand out for you to allow him his turn. he even goes as far as flicking the air a few times for practice before aligning his fingers with his target.

"so, how and why did you end up sitting out here tonight?"

your breath kinda hitches in your throat.

"no one ever gets in on the first try," you try to argue, reluctant to reveal your answer, "so hand it over-"

there's a small clink as it lands on the cold pavement, the metal spiral that was proven to be no match for the boy. you blink at him and the accomplished, giddy smile that spreads on his face, letting your shoulders fall.

"you were saying?" he jokes, leaning forward. his cheeks and face are starting to flush red from the alcohol, "i believe you owe me an answer,"

"long day," you mutter.

"oh, come on. that's so vague," at your glare, his hand reaches over to land on your forearm, and your eyes follow it warily, "i promise, i won't judge you or anything."

his eyes are soft and genuine and boring into yours with no attempt to hide his curiosity. this game may have been your idea, but you didn't expect to actually have to open up to some random guy.

whatever, you think to yourself, it's not like he knows you enough to care. but then why would he ask? he does care, at least somewhat. why would he approach you if he didn't, right? anyway, you're not sure whether that notion makes you feel better or worse, but the soju is catching up to you and sending the words tumbling out of your mouth before you can decide.

"i got broken up with yesterday," you pause, but mark doesn't speak. his smile does falter, though, and you feel a pang in your chest for ruining the mood, "we were together for over a year and a half. as it turns out, he hasn't even been in love with me for most of it. he said that he 'fell out of love' a few months in. didn't bother letting me in on that detail, though,"

you laugh bitterly and take a sip, nose sniffling to fight any tears that might spill, "and i'm here because, well," you slosh around the clear liquid, "it beats being in my apartment and laying on the bed he's slept in."

another drink of grape soju washes down the bitter feeling in your throat, just as mark finishes his own bottle. for a moment, you think he's getting ready to head home after your confession, but he reaches for another without hesitation, handing you the cap when he peels it off.

he nods in encouragement, lips parting to speak, and his voice is soothing when it flows out. unknowingly, he'd say exactly what you needed to hear.

"i don't wanna overstep, and i don't want you to keep thinking about that asshole. he doesn't deserve it. so, instead," he wiggles the cap, "i'll keep you distracted. i will say, though, you don't seem like the kind of person who's easy to move on from."

"you don't even know me," you whisper.

"then take this soju cap, play your turn, and give me the chance to get to know you. your game's pretty fun, stranger, and we've still got a few bottles to get through."

"mark? mark! are you even listening?"

a couch cushion plummets towards him, hitting him upside the head and knocking the glasses off his face. He blinks a few times but he’s clearly still dazed as he turns to face hyuck, a distant look his eyes, "what?" he mumbles.

"dude, you've literally banana-peeled yourself three times in a row. what are you doing?”

bringing the hand that tucks his glasses back on down to rub his chin, mark sighs out, "sorry, just got lost in my thoughts for a second,”

it’s been happening incessantly the last few days–his mind drifting and getting lost in a memory of you. He can’t help but think of you, and each and every flash of your face that crosses his mind makes his heart ache just a little bit more. you haven’t answered his texts and calls, other than the very brief reply you sent this morning where you let him know you need more time to think things over.

it's a very reasonable, exceedingly rational, normal request. in fact, it's exactly what he expected you to say, but still... damn you.

damn you because for two hours straight this morning, mark had typed up at least a dozen different replies, spamming the back space button after each one since none managed to make sense of his disorganized thoughts. he thrashed around in bed, hovered his thumb over the call button a few times, even considered taking his car keys and showing up on your front door. your reply, which he waited nearly 72 hours for, had nearly driven him mad, and it robbed him of sleep for the remainder of the early morning hours.

he almost prefers you hadn’t answered him at all. almost.

“get it together, man! how am i supposed to beat jeno if you’re sabotaging yourself and therefore, my training session? i lost forty bucks to him last week ‘cause i couldn’t beat him at smash, i’m not losing to him again.”

on cue, the sound of the doorknob unlocking and twisting open alerts both boys who turn their heads; instantly, hyuck scoffs at the inconvenient coincidence and mark’s stomach drops in dread.

the other person responsible for his rapidly depleting mood and confidence, the last of the two individuals occupying his every thought–lee jeno.

mark lee has never felt so conflicted and confused in his life. sure, he understands where jeno's coming from; how could he not sympathize with him when he, too, is in the exact same position? still, it's frustrating because he’s pissed off, but he's not even mad at him, or at you, for that matter. he debated it for a while, but turns out he's not mad at himself, either. it's not any less true that he is angry. perhaps, it’s at the universe for its sick and twisted sense of humor.

it fucking hurts that he knows it's no one's fault and yet, he can’t help the way seeing jeno makes him sick to his stomach. to put it plainly, if it wasn't for him, you'd be his, but dwelling on that fact and wishing for the alternative is extremely selfish.

the boy, oblivious to his best friend's inner turmoil, walks in, swinging his gym bag off his shoulder and wiping his shoes on the door mat. he takes a moment to straighten it out since it was folded over, no doubt hyuck's doing.

“hey,” he greets quietly. mark only manages a grunt, but it’s not like jeno would’ve heard it anyway, with the youngest boy jumping up and out of his seat, creating a rattle as he knocks his phone and the remote off the couch.

his index finger shoots forward to point and shout, “you!” jeno looks over, alarmed as hyuck spews instructions, “couch, now. controller in hand. i’m handing your ass to you,”

“in your dreams,” he snorts. the couch dips when he plops down, and less than a second later, mark’s moving to leave. he can't bother to not make it obvious, and jeno's brow creases as he notices.

“yo,” hyuck drags out the syllable in a whine, “where are you going? jeno just got here.”

“he can use my controller, i’m not in the mood to play anymore.” without glancing his way, mark scoots up and passes the controller to jeno who holds an arm out to stop him.

“wait. you alright? you’ve been down the last few days.”

hardly managing the effort to reply, mark blinks at the ground. he says, “m’fine,” but his roommate's not convinced at all. jeno tries insisting again, smacking his lips playfully in one last attempt to lighten the mood.

“come on,” he urges, “stick around for a bit. maybe a few rounds will cheer you up, we can grab some beers and-“

but mark stands anyway, tapping his phone out of habit to turn on the screen, just in case there’s a notification from you. there isn’t.

“i’ll see you guys later, yeah?”

jeno remains silent this time, lips folding downward as his eyes follow mark who walks away. hyuck doesn't offer the same quiet, but his protests are drowned out nonetheless when mark has made it down the hall, shutting his bedroom door behind him.

⋆ ★

“alright, you’ve been warned.”

“come on, there's no way they're that bad,” you roll your eyes, nudging your shoulder into mark’s. he hollers an ‘ow’ at the impact, although it's half-hearted and mixed with a laugh. without giving it a second thought, he pushes you right back, setting you off balance. instinctively, you scramble to reach for his upper arm to keep from falling flat on your ass, and his quick reflexes allow him to grip your wrist and pull you to his chest. his eyes are wide as he stares at you, laughter echoing loudly.

you gasp, but your offense is short-lived. his giggles are contagious and you end up mirroring his expression, settling for smacking his arm instead.

“do you want me to end up in the hospital before i meet your friends?!”

mark only rolls his eyes and shoots you a playful wink, “i’d take it as a sign from the universe that i should gate keep you.” in one motion, he twists the key into the lock and when the apartment door opens, he calls out a hello to his roommates who he explicitly briefed you about on the car ride over.

firstly, he warned you about donghyuck, who he described as a funny, talkative, know-it-all that didn't know how to keep his thoughts to himself. mark also made sure to mention that he'd be probing you mercilessly, poking his nose in your business. "it’s his way of showing he cares," he had said. "reminds me of someone," you had replied, wiggling your eyebrows his way. mark smiled at your indirect compliment, then proceeded to express the fact that him and hyuck were very different, as you would soon come to find out.

then, he told you about jeno, who he claimed was so boyish and shy that it may initially appear like he doesn’t even like you. according to mark, he’s endearingly awkward but a very good, reliable friend. mark also mentioned the sporty boy has one weakness: he's highly susceptible to hyuck’s teasing. he told you how hyuck would pick on him at any given opportunity, then went as far as to say that “the most you’ll hear him talk is when the two of them are arguing,”

as soon as you walk in, it’s easy to immediately tell the two boys apart. the one you presume to be hyuck has his phone drawn to his lips and is yelling out the lyrics to a bruno mars song that plays from a speaker. his limbs are flailing, and he’s jumping in circles around jeno who stands stiff, patiently setting up the solo cups for a game of beer pong.

when they hear you both enter, hyuck is the first to spin on his heel, holding out a hand as if to dedicate the lyrics to his best friend and the girl he’s never met before. he takes shameless strides over before grabbing your hand to spin you in a circle. as soon as he reaches for mark’s waist, your friend recoils away and the two start bickering, leaving you to meet eyes with jeno for the first time.

with a deep breath, one that fails to soothe your hungry lungs and nervous heart, you bring your knuckles up, knocking three times on the apartment door.

when you pulled into the parking lot earlier, you noticed mark’s car was not in his usual spot, a sight that flushed relief through you almost instantly. it’s a strange feeling, because usually, you feel quite the opposite.

these last couple of days make the longest that you and mark have ever gone without talking since you met, and as much as you want to see him, there’s something you need to do first, and it’ll be much easier without him around.

you owe jeno a conversation, and he had been very patient in waiting for your call or text, unlike mark who accounted for more than half of your notifications. finally, you wrote to him today, just over a week after his confession, and asked if you could come over to talk.

it takes about a minute of you shifting your weight between your heels nervously for hyuck to open the door. he instantly moves aside to let you in, a hand holding his phone up to his ear. before walking over to the couch, where he presumably resided before your arrival, given by the snacks and mess of blankets, he nods once at you, then keeps arguing with the person on the other line.

“renjun, you’re insufferable. i’m telling you, there’s no way you can outdrink me.“

their interaction manages to crack a smile on your face, a feat that’s been harder to accomplish recently. as you kick off your shoes, your thumbs move quickly to shoot jeno a text that you’re here and then, you take a seat on the arm rest, returning to your state of nervousness. subconsciously, you bring a nail to your mouth to chew it as hyuck rips open a bag of chips and shoots you a look of disgust, waving at you so you’ll move your hand away. considering how often he bickers with renjun, he’s truly starting to resemble him.

you check your phone again, even though it’s only been a few seconds since you pressed send, and sigh out, continuing to lie in wait.

meanwhile, from the spot on his bed, jeno has a hand resting across his stomach, the other clutching his phone close to his face to watch a stream. the moment the notification of your text drops down, interrupting the league game he was monitoring, he shoots up into a sitting position.

he doesn't intend to make you wait so long, but it takes him a few minutes to head outside because, well, he takes the time to straighten out his bed and shove his running shoes in the closet in effort to tidy things up. jeno’s room is significantly cleaner than the other two boys, but this would be the first time you saw it, and he felt that it should look presentable.

when he deems everything accommodated, he wipes the sweat from his palms and steps outside. As he turns the corner at the end of the hall, his eyes land on you where you sit, fidgeting with your phone and chewing on your lip. for a moment, the air leaves his lungs.

the very first time jeno’s eyes glaze over your person, his train of thought–which was previously making a desperate effort to drown out hyuck's loud voice as he bellowed the lyrics of versace on the floor–is interrupted, halted at once.

all of his thoughts cease, as does his involuntary breathing process, and he has to instantly do a double take your way. you’re already looking back at him, offering a smile so soft and sweet that it provokes his own shy grin to form. the contagious, upward curve of your plump and pink lips is the first of your features that he notices, and his eyes blatantly admire it for a bit. the second thing he lingers on is the particularly dreamy blue hue of your crocheted cardigan as he acknowledges the way it brings out the color of your eyes. it highlights the shade of your smooth skin, and he decides just then that this color was made solely for you.

he can only spare it that single, passing thought, though. his focus is quickly drawn back to your smile, bright and unyielding, and in this moment, only for him.

god, how did he manage to go so long without knowing your smile?

it’s strange, the complicated curiosity that nestles in his chest; it tugs at his heartstrings until the organ is thumping incessantly in his throat. there’s an inexplicable warmth in your gaze, and although he has no idea who you are, he’s already appointed himself humbly at your disposal.

“hi,” you breathe out, voice as polite as the hand you hold out for him to shake, “i’m y/n.”

“hey,” he waves you over and you stand on wobbly legs, walking toward the hall that leads to his room.

he opens his bedroom door and moves aside so you can walk in first, his arm gesturing around, “you can sit on my bed, or on my desk chair. wherever is okay,”

with a hum, you set your bag down on his chair, scooting onto the edge of his bed and hiking your legs up so that you’re sitting criss-crossed. he joins you, sitting at the foot and leaning back on his palms, twisting his torso to face you, somewhat expectantly.

“hey, jen,” you quietly mumble, looking up from your lap to finally meet his round orbs. they’re as kind as ever, and a grin creeps onto his lips before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“i was starting to miss you,” he weakly jokes. although the mood doesn’t lend itself too kindly to humor at the moment, his charm still brings a smile to your face, “you haven’t been around in a bit.”

you nod in acknowledgement, “yeah, i know, it’s just…” the sigh that leaves your lips makes him frown, and he contemplates reaching for your arm, but decides against it. the air is thick, and he’s not entirely convinced the gesture would help soothe your nerves in the slightest.

after a few seconds of silence, jeno picks up on the fact that your trailing off was because you couldn’t seem to find the right words. that, or you didn’t have the heart to say what he assumed you were implying with your hesitance, maybe in an effort to spare his feelings. when you start picking at your nails anxiously, he timidly interrupts the quiet.

“i hope you know that i didn’t mean to make things awkward,” he starts, “i don’t want you to think that you can’t come over because i have feelings for you. you’re still friends with the guys, it’s not fair for you to feel like-”

“no, it’s not your fault! that’s not why i haven’t been over,” he doesn’t miss the way your eyes shift around in thought, and he nods once to let you know he’s waiting and listening.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” you settle for saying, shoulders slumping slightly, “but i can promise you that it’s not because of your feelings for me.”

there’s a bit of a sadness behind the smile he gives you—despite how much he tries to hide it—as he reaches his conclusion, “i think i’ve figured out by now that you don’t feel the same, and that’s okay,” when you shoot him a look, he only grins at you again, reassuringly, “it’s okay that you don’t like me. you can’t help that,”

the tears that prick at your eyes come as a surprise to both him and you. they come unprecedented and unannounced, beginning to roll down your cheeks as you nudge him and wipe at your face harshly in embarrassment, “you’re not supposed to be comforting me right now,”

“can i?” he asks, ignoring your scolding. when you don’t say no, he guides your hand away, replacing it with his own and using his thumb to swipe away at your warm tear streaks with much more care.

“you know i care for you, right?” you admit in one breath. it’s hard to keep your eyes on him, maybe because of the slight guilt you feel at this moment, consuming your usual confidence. somehow, tearing your gaze away would be worse, because it meant you wouldn’t be able to read whether or not his answer was sincere, and for the sake of calming your heavy heart, you force yourself to keep looking.

slowly, he nods in response, blowing softly on your eyes, “don’t cry, okay? never over me.” even at a time like this, he’s selfless, tending to you with small gestures and actions. you almost feel the need to cry harder, but you meet his request and attempt to pull back your tears.

“you know,” he starts, “the day that we met, the first thing i noticed was your smile. you were beaming, and i wondered in that moment, ‘how did i go so long without your pretty smile in my life?’” instantly, as the words leave his lips, your brow furrows and your eyes squeeze shut.

so much for trying not to cry.

“i looked forward to seeing you everyday from then on. i thought about you while you were away, when i was down… you don’t know how many bad days your smile got me through, so please, don’t cry.”

with a shaky breath, you nod, leaning into his palm that still cradles your face, “you’re so sweet, always have been. i’m sorry that i can’t feel that way about you,”

he presses his lips to your forehead and you wrap your arms around his torso. he responds by squeezing you back, voice quiet and shy by your ear, “I love you–a-and I know you can’t say it back,” he rushes to clarify, “i don’t expect you to. but, i need to say it to you once, and this might be my only chance. i’m gonna be a little selfish and take it.”

the sound you make is somewhere between a strangled sob and a giggle, and he pulls back slowly to look at you. maybe it’s because of the sudden closeness or his attraction to you, but his eyes flicker to your lips.

“could i maybe, o-one last—nevermind, i can’t ask that of you,” his stuttering is barely audible, something like an impulsive thought he caught just before it managed to slip out. his tone is sharp, scolding of himself for even beginning to say it out loud. still, you catch on to his request, and with one hand softly stroking the nape of his neck, you start leaning in.

when your lips first touch his, barely pressing into them, jeno pulls away in a bit of a panic, “you don’t have to-”

“i know. i want to.” his brow lifts when you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “you deserve to give me a kiss that doesn’t have a ten second time limit, or two other people in the room each waiting for a turn. your heart is so big,” you mumble, “i want you to have the chance to kiss me how you want,”

jeno silently kicks himself, because how could he ask you not to cry if his own eyes were beginning to burn?

ever so carefully, his lips hover over yours. he takes his time as he leans closer, wary, giving you ample time to change your mind. when you don’t pull away and instead raise your brow slightly, he gains a bit more confidence.

jeno presses a few soft, opened mouth kisses to your lips, squeezing his eyes tight as he savors his first real and final taste of you. his warm tongue swipes at your bottom lip, but it isn't insistent enough to invite you to deepen the kiss; he doesn’t intend it to be, either. It’s clear that he’s taking it slow.

you can tell the flow of this kiss is being heavily considered, timed to be perfectly tender and easy. his mouth feels smooth, working against yours with only a slight desperation. instinctively, your hand clutches his shoulder as you realize: this might’ve been the kiss he intended to give you that day during the first bet if hyuck hadn’t pressured him.

a kiss so deep and so gentle, where his emotions pour out in the tiny breaths that tickle your face. his fingers disappear into your hairline and massage your scalp, and you can feel his nose pressing deeply into your cheek as he pulls you closer, humming quietly. on that day where he seemed so nervous to have you so close, because of course, it wasn’t just a competition to him, jeno wasn’t able to put his all into kissing you, but right now, it felt like he couldn’t give you any more of himself without physically handing you his heart. at the thought, you sniffle mid-kiss and realize the saltiness you’re tasting is a mix of both of your tears.

as much as he wishes he could continue, he can’t allow himself to be too greedy because kissing you like this and not being able to have you after might just be too much for his fluttering heart to handle. he breaks away, eyes remaining closed as he breathes out. you blink open your eyes before he does. it’s your turn to wipe his cheeks.

“i’m sorry, jen.”

“no,” he clears his throat, “don’t be. and thanks for, well, this.” his hand squeezes yours once, then a second time, and the two of you sit wordlessly for a few moments as everything sinks in, the only sounds being the occasional snivel from either of you.

when you finally move to stretch your legs out you gasp, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above his dresser. he’s startled for a moment, watching you shoot up from your spot and rush over to wipe your face.

“jeno, why didn’t you tell me i looked like this?!” you squeak out, mascara blotted on and around your eyes. he kinda laughs at you, twisting around to watch your frantic motions in amusement. in seconds, he’s dug into a drawer and he’s handing you a pack of wipes, mumbling something about how he didn’t even notice, which earns him a glare. the tension seems to have eased at once following this interaction, and the mood is lighter as you slip into small talk. you finish swiping away the makeup from your face and when it’s clean, you check the time on your phone and place it on the dresser.

“You know the last time i made your makeup run, you definitely weren’t crying,”

“oh, god,” your face glows red and your hand makes contact with his shoulder, “how embarrassing!”

“sorry, sorry,” he grins timidly, shying away from your blow, “too soon.”

when your laughter dies down, you shoot him a grin.

“i should go soon. it’s getting dark,” he nods once. you swing your bag over your shoulder and head for the door, mumbling something about how the last time you left their place late you were too scared to walk from your parking garage to your apartment, when jeno grabs your forearm.

“wait!” you stop, “can i… can i ask you something?”

flipping around expectantly, you blink and he swallows thickly, as if already knew the answer and didn’t really wanna hear it. either way, the words tumble from his mouth quickly.

probably the most timid he’s sounded tonight, his voice is gravely and reserved when he asks, “is there something going on between you and mark?”

that was not at all what you were expecting him to say. in fact, it’s the one thing you were hoping wouldn’t come up at all today.

you didn’t want to bring up mark for various reasons: firstly, there’s a very fine line between letting jeno in on the detail that mark also likes you–and that you like him–and explaining that that’s why you two can’t be together, and having him think that in telling him, you’re asking for permission to date his best friend. that’s something you’re incapable of even implying, because how fucking heartless and selfish would that be? secondly, you hadn’t even talked to mark yet, and you didn’t even know if the two of them had already discussed it. lastly, this conversation was supposed to be about jeno, and his feelings– and you’d feel like shit if you made it about anybody else.

you can’t help the way your eyes widen at his question, however, and you immediately blurt out “what? no!”

nice. smooth.

jeno cocks a brow up and you inhale shakily, “i mean, not really… or, at least not anymore.” he cocks an eyebrow at you and you purse your lips, shrugging, “i guess… for a moment there almost was, but then-”

“then i confessed,” he nods in understanding. instantly, your eyes snap wide open and you hold an arm out.

“yes, but it’s fine jen, i think it’s better that we didn’t-”

“you don’t,” your shoulders fall as he sighs, reading you like a book, “you don’t think it’s better.” his eyes flicker between yours, but you don’t have it in you to even try and refute him.

“you know,” he starts, “i had a feeling but i wasn’t too sure ‘cause you guys have always been really close.”

“jeno…”

there’s a lingering moment of silence, and you almost fear the mood has become sour and tense once more. you can’t seem to find your voice, or any words for that matter, and jeno walks closer until he’s less than a few feet away. he looks like he’s deep in thought for a flashing second, before his shoulders relax and he speaks up.

“I think you should be together,” there’s no reluctance in his tone, no bitterness either, “not that you need my okay, because you don’t. but, if you’re worried about me, don’t be. i’ll be fine, I promise. besides, i’d hate to be the reason the two of you are forced to settle for a ‘what if.’”

“just um,” he continues and for the first time, he speaks meekly, “give me a bit of time to recover before you guys start rubbing your happiness all over me,”

oh.

speechless and gawking at him with wide eyes, it takes a long minute before you manage to muster up a reply. jeno could have changed his mind a dozen times over by then. your heart is beating noticeably faster, sitting in your throat like a lump.

“no,” you decide, “i can’t just do that to you.”

“it’s okay, y/n. i mean it. and thanks for coming by to talk abou-”

“no, no,” you shake your head, “you don’t get it, i can’t–i won't do that to you, it’s not fair,”

“I’d feel worse if you didn’t,” he admits, “like i’m keeping you from something. mark’s my best friend, so are you. what isn’t fair is keeping you guys from each other.” his eyes gleam sympathetically, and you blink a few times at him, “call him. talk to him, at least. he’s been down for a few days now. won’t come out of his room much while he’s home.”

you nod slowly, “okay, i’ll do that,”

“think about it, yeah?”

“jeno, get dressed!” hyuck’s voice comes as a bit of a surprise as he bellows, stomping down the hall and towards his room, passing by jeno’s on the way, “we’re going for drinks with renjun. can you believe that fucker thinks he can drink more than me? and jaemin agrees! man, you think you know a guy,” his voice is slightly muffled now that he’s in his room, but he’s still yelling out, “my pride is hurt, so hurry up! we’re leaving in 10,”

“besides, i’ve got hyuck to tend to. don’t know what he would do if my attention wasn’t on him all the time,”

you stifle a laugh and weakly suggest, “crash and burn. come on, walk me out?” and jeno gives you a wide smile.

“o‘course,”

⋆ ★

if looks could kill, the scowl on mark’s face would’ve been your demise. he’s staring at you from the doorway of his front door, just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.

nothing about today has gone right. it wasn’t until you got home last night that you realized you had left your phone on jeno’s dresser and by that time, it was too late to go back. more than likely, he didn’t notice either, or he would’ve dropped it off before going out for drinks. so, naturally, you had to stop by today to get it back.

you barely had time to think things over in regards to mark; part of you insists should continue to avoid him until you figure shit out–which obviously isn’t a possibility anymore since he’s standing right in front of you–and another part, was left tossing and turning in bed until the early hours of the morning, worried that mark would call or text you about something important and you wouldn’t be able to answer.

that doesn’t matter now, anyway. mark is standing a foot away, eyes low and emotionless. he looks like he hasn’t had a proper sleep in days, and you don’t doubt that you look very different yourself.

you’re the first to speak, mumbling a small, “hi,” which makes his chest rise and fall in a long sigh at the familiar sound of your voice–a sound that he missed dearly.

“hi.”

“i-” you start to speak again, before you realize, you have no idea what to say.

are you supposed to apologize for dropping by unannounced or explain that the reason you couldn’t announce your visit was because you had left your phone here the day before? perhaps, he’s expecting an apology for the way you’ve been ignoring him, leaving him in the dark the last couple of days and refusing to reply to his many, many attempts to reach out. you’re not sure if he knew what happened yesterday, either. the point is: if all of these are things you need to say to him, which are you meant to say first?

mark blinks at you until you offer him a sad, lopsided smile and shyly ask, “can i come in?”

he doesn’t respond; instead, he brings a fist up to rub his tired eyes and moves aside to let you in.

“m’sorry,” you mumble, placing your bag down and slipping off your shoes. mark walks past you and sits on the couch a few feet away, brows slightly pinched down, “for a few things,” you mutter.

“i’m sorry, too,” he sighs, and you blink at him in surprise.

“for what?”

“for how i reacted the last time we were together. i couldn’t see things from your point of view until i really thought it through, and… you were right,” he admits defeatedly, voice hushed. “i’m also sorry for not being able to give you space when you asked for it. It’s just–you just mean a lot to me and the idea of you not wanting to talk to me really freaked me out.”

“mark,” you coo softly. your feet carry you over to sit beside him, scooting closer until the two of you are shoulder to shoulder, knees bumping. when your lips part, your voice is airy and quiet, “you mean so, so much to me. I’m glad you didn’t give me space, i would’ve thought you hated me or something,”

“i could never hate you,” he’s still looking at his lap, at the spot where his hands have come up to fidget mindlessly with his drawstrings.

“–and sorry for not replying. that was childish of me,”

mark lightly shakes his head, “no, dude, i get it.”

“–and i would’ve mentioned i was dropping by, but i left my phone in jeno’s room after i came yesterday-“

“it’s fine, really—wait, you were here yesterday? with jeno?” his head snaps up.

“yeah, last night around seven.”

“you were in his room?”

“yes?”

mark scoffs, a puff of air leaving his lips sharply.

truly, mark didn’t mean to scoff. he meant to ask you “oh, how come?” or “hey, why you didn’t tell me?” but his questions are answered by his subconscious, and he’s not sure he liked what it had to say. he’d really like to think you didn’t come to—no. you wouldn’t… right?

before he can add anything else, your expression twists into one of offense.

“it wasn’t like that, mark.” you snap and he scoffs, again.

“right, i’m sure it wasn’t.”

instantly, you shoot up from your seat, arms crossing defensively, “it wasn’t,” you stress. mark runs a hand through his hair, huffing discontentedly, and you blink at him, “i just came to talk to him.”

“before talking to me? i’m your best friend,” he replies.

“yeah, but you’re not the one who had their feelings completely shot down,”

mark stands to his full height, too, an incredulous look in his eyes, “oh, i’m not? he told you he liked you and you immediately changed your mind about us!”

“that didn’t change my mind about us, mark. but honestly? this might,” you gesture between the two of you and spin on your heel to start making your way down the hall, “forget it. i’ll just get my phone and go,”

with a huff, mark shoots up.

“y/n,” he calls, but you ignore him. when you reach jeno’s bedroom door, you push it open and snatch your phone from the dresser. it was still in the very same spot you left it in, meaning hyuck probably dragged jeno out in a hurry. jeno also wasn’t here, which you were very grateful for right about now… it would have very been awkward to barge into his room if he was.

you make a move to leave, but mark is hot on your trail, and when you turn back around, you almost bump right into his chest, “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean-” he tries, but you cut him off.

“do you really think i’d do that to you? tell me, honestly.”

“i don’t,” he answers quickly. at the sight of tears pooling in your eyes, mark winces, and his arms wrap around you. you consider fighting his grip, but the truth is, you didn’t really want to.

“i’m sorry, i’m so, so sorry,” he chants into your hair, holding you tightly against him, “i was just upset that you didn’t come to me first, but i swear didn’t mean any of that. don’t even know why i said it, fuck.”

your voice is no louder than a muffled squeak, “i just–i came to tell him i was sorry and that i didn’t feel the same way.”

mark’s breathing calms, and he squeezes you a bit tighter.

“he asked about you, you know, about us. wanted to know if we were a thing,”

“what did you say?” he asks gently, curiously, as to not come off any more accusatory than he already has.

you pull back to look up at him and sniffle, “that we almost were, or that we would’ve been if–anyway, he said he was okay with us being together. and i was going to tell you,” you stress, “i just wanted to wait until all the tension died down; until after we talked and he had a chance to move on. I didn’t think our talk would go like this, though”

as you finish speaking, mark presses his lips deeply into your forehead, repeating his apology softly. they linger there for a moment before he replaces them with his nose. he then leans down to press his forehead against yours, although he doesn’t move to take anything further.

the tears that coat your eyelashes and stick them together make his heart clench within the confines of his ribs. he decides just then that the sight of you crying is his least favorite one.

both of his hands hold your cheeks, inviting you to look up and into his eyes, “i need you to know that the most important thing to me, like, ever, is you. I know i haven’t done a great job of making that clear today,” he whispers, “but whatever you decide you want to do, and however slowly you wanna do it, i’m there.”

and then, you utter out the last set of words he thought he would be hearing from you in this moment.

“i want to be with you,” at first, he thinks he may have misheard you, but when you nuzzle your cheek into his open palm and grab at his shirt to tug him closer, his breath hitches.

“what?”

“i still want to be with you,” you repeat, a little quieter this time. the tips of your ears have gone hot, “if you want to, i mean,”

“i do,” he replies quickly, nodding, “i do, of course i do.”

he lets his thumb brush your cheek, eyes dropping to your lips, they fly back to yours in a flash for any bit of hesitation, but he finds none.

slowly, he leans in, and the very moment his lips take their place against yours, the tension in your shoulders dissipates. your knees buck, but he’s quick to slide an arm around your waist and hold you up. when his chest presses to yours, he wonders if you can feel his heart pounding. what he doesn’t know, is that you’re thinking the very same thing.

your hands slip under his shirt, wandering along the expanse of his lower back. his skin is warm under your touch, and he can’t hold back the hum he feeds your parted lips when your nails dig their little crescent moons into him.

“mark,” you whimper, but he doesn’t break the kiss even for a moment. he’d literally rather die.

what he does do, is lean so far into your touch that the two of you stumble back into the wall, where his hand comes up to hold your head to block the impact.

“let’s-mmm,” he kisses you again, lips smacking loudly against yours, “t’your…room,”

He slightly nods to let you know he understood, “yeah,”

the two of you spin around until it’s you who’s slightly guiding him in the direction of his bedroom. when he hits the door, he reaches an arm back for the doorknob and twists it open, all but pulling you inside. and, finally, the two of you break apart for air, chests heaving wildly and pupils blown completely wide.

he’s a pretty sight, gazing at you sweetly with heavy lids. a bit of spit hangs behind on the corner of mark’s mouth and you laugh softly, stealing another kiss and using your thumb to wipe it away. you let your hand stay there, pressed right against his warm cheek, and mark squeezes your hip.

“i love you,” he utters suddenly.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” he nods.

“me, too. i love you, so much,” you reply, and his eyes disappear as he grins so wide that his nose scrunches up. his cheeks start flushing red and he dives down to hide his face in your neck. while his laughter tickles, it’s nowhere near the sensation of the kisses he leaves behind, wet and trailing along your shoulder and chest. you gasp softly when his teeth graze you and he pulls back.

“yo,” a small hum leaves your lips in reply and he shakes his head slightly, “i think you’ve gotta be the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen,”

he kisses you again before you manage to respond to his compliment, walking with you until the back of your knees hits the edge of his bed. when you sit down and scoot back, mark settles between your legs, using his hand to hike your right leg up and around his waist.

“take this off,” you mumble, tugging until the white shirt he wears is up and over his head. mark wastes no time in peeling your top off, too, large hands grabbing a hold of your hip and waist and breasts, all the while his mouth attaches to your skin. here, he stays for a bit, licking and nibbling as he pleases.

there’s a warmth between your legs now, all of your nerves tingling as you lift your hips, hoping you’ll brush yourself against his front or his thigh. there’s no doubt in your mind that you’ve soaked through your panties.

“i can’t believe i have you all to myself now, fuck,”

“mark,”

“yes?”

“please..”

“please what, baby?” he coos, lifting his head up. behind, he leaves a purple mark on the part of your breast that pudges out of the cup of your bra.

the sight makes you drool, “i need you, please. do something, anything,” nothing about your actions implies you have even a slight bit of patience left, and this doesn’t go unnoticed.

mark is gawking at you, lip tucked between his teeth harshly. he considers teasing you a bit more, but your pretty eyes that plead with him are too hard to not appease.

it’s short and sweet, the way he smiles and lands his lips on your cheek with a pop. at the same time, his hips meet yours, pulling a strangled moan from your throat. you claw at his shoulders, looking down to watch the way he rolls into you, dick swollen and bulging under the constraint of his pants.

every inch of him presses onto you, your legs sneakily wrapping tighter around him. mark grunts and cups your jaw, pulling your mouth open slightly.

“stick your tongue out for me,” he instructs.

when your eyes blink up at him curiously and your tongue sticks out, mark smirks, letting the spit he’s accumulated drop. the free hand that was previously wandering unhooks the top button of your bottoms, slipping inside to cup your heat.

somehow, it’s still not nearly enough. every touch makes you jolt in desperation, writhing beneath his hold. mark lets his lips mold over yours again, freely exploring your mouth, his middle finger continuously running over your underwear to feel your arousal.

“so wet,” he says against your lips. you nod eagerly, grinding into his hand.

“all for you, baby,”

“you want my mouth? or my fingers? tell me how you want me,”

when you shake your head, mark leans further back, confused, “baby,” you plead, “no foreplay, i need you inside of me so bad,”

“i need to prep you, doll,”

“i’m already so worked up, look,” you insist, shimmying your shorts down. you grab his hand and move your underwear aside, pressing his fingers into you so that he can feel for himself.

“shit… you’re dripping,”

“please,” you whine out.

“are you sure?”

“mark, yes. i’m literally begging you to fuck me.”

“okay,” he laughs, “so needy, pretty girl,” a sloppy kiss is placed over your lips as he pulls off his joggers and underwear, your panties practically yanked off. you make quick work of your bra, unclipping it and tossing it aside. when his attention is back on you, his gaze falls to your chest in admiration.

“you’re perfect, all for me. all mine, baby.” he brushes your hair behind your ear and reminds you, “ i love you,”

“i love you, but please, please,”

with a breathy laugh, mark lines himself up with your entrance. his thumb guides the head of his cock down until he’s collected some of your slick, a task that proves slightly difficult with your restless squirming.

he’s about to order you to stay still when he presses into you and momentarily forgets how to speak. a shiver goes down his spine, and his eyes roll back at the feeling of sinking into your walls.

you moan out loudly and mark hisses, desperately trying not to finish early.

the stretch doesn’t even hurt as much as you thought it would, but it does take some adjusting on both ends–you’re fluttering around him helplessly, sensitive and susceptible to his every move; meanwhile, mark’s tip continues slipping out and bumping your clit, before he manages to push himself back in.

“mmph, baby, you’re pushing me out,”

“m’sorry,” you pant, “can’t help it,”

he manages to bottom out as you pull your knees to your chest. intrigued by your position, he grabs your calves to settle them over his shoulders, pushing you into a sort of mating press, one where he can still look down to where your bodies meet. it’s fucking dirty, the way you’re practically leaking, juices flowing down your ass and gathering on his sheets.

with another experimental thrust, your pussy squelches and tightens around him. mark grunts out mindlessly, “i could fuck you forever,” and you nod, agreeing.

with every slow roll of his hips, your breathing grows more shallow. the angle he’s fucking you in is absolutely insane. there’s no containing the whimpers that fall from your lips when his fingers find your clit, rubbing slow circles on your sensitive bud.

“more, g-go faster, i can take it,”

he obliges immediately, rocking into you harder, and you realize how close you’ve actually been this whole time. you’re so turned on from the mere intimacy of this moment that in seconds, your jaw has gone slack, pleasure coursing through your body until it numbs your fingertips.

your mind is blank, and all you can manage to blabber are a few weak and strained chants of his name, followed by a string of praises and “i love you’s.”

mark’s orgasm follows soon after, despite the way he tries so hard to hold it off. he tries to bite your leg as a distraction, or pinch your pointed nipple, anything to try to prolong the moment and work you until you’re pleasantly overstimulated, but it’s too late, because his breath has gotten caught in his throat.

his thrusts begin stuttering, his eyes are squeezed shut, and he’s coming so, so hard that his fingers are turning white where they grip your waist.

if he prepped you, he might have lasted just a tad longer, but he didn’t. mark knew he was done for the moment he entered you and you clenched around him.

“fuck yes, take it, baby, take it,” his cum shoots out in spurts within your folds and and he stops holding himself up, burrying himself all the way in your cunt, dick twitching uncontrollably.

“you’re unbelievable,” he praises, working to steady the pace of his breathing.

a lazy grin finds your swollen lips, “that was really good,” you mutter, tiredly looking up at him through glossed over eyes.

as he moves to lean back, you make a noise of complaint, but he’s quick to soothe you.

“shh, don’t worry. i’m only making sure you’re comfortable,” he brings your legs down from his shoulders so they can rest at his sides, and the ache you feel instantly be relieved makes you very grateful for his consideration. he doesn’t dare pull out, though, basking in your warmth until he’s gone completely soft.

“you’re mine, yeah?”

“yes, baby,” you agree contently, tucking back a few strands of his hair so they don’t fall in his eyes, which bore at yours so tenderly.

“alright,” he kisses you, “and i’m yours,”

ੈ♡˳

a/n: sorry it was a few minutes late. thank you to everyone who has supported this series. i hope you found it worthwhile <3 sidenote: if theres any mistakes pls forgive me omfg

917 notes · View notes

starswguru · 1 month

Text

❝ message in a bottle ; 마크이

𖥻 pairing: college!mark lee x female reader

𖥻 contains: college!au, fluff, slight angst, second chance romance

𖥻 warnings: swearing, marijuana & alcohol consumption / english is not my first language and this is my first work ever on tumblr so i am sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspellings

word count — 4.06k

synopsis — you and mark were in a situationship for a few months before things ended poorly when you got too scared of your feelings and he had to leave the country for an exchange program in london. now, six months later, you were at a party with your friends and discovered mark was back in town.

🎀

AND just like that, your whole world stopped spinning for a long and torturous minute. in the blink of an eye, you went from being over-the-moon excited — and slightly intoxicated — with the idea of partying with your friends during the first summer night before heading to your hometown in the next couple of days to being paralyzed, feeling all your blood get drained far away from where it should be in your body. in the blink of an eye, you went from being a happy girl with the arrival of the last member of your friend group to someone terrified with the sight of a ghost from the past. a quick glance, unintended by all means, in mark’s direction was all it took for the memories from that previous year to come flooding back to hit you like a lost train.

“hey, princess,” he said. his cheeks burning in a shade of shameful red, but something stronger than him was preventing his stare from going anywhere else other than your eyes. there was a blunt hanging between his teeth. “how you doing?”

“that’s it, guys; i’m done with this. i’m just gonna change my major or something like that! everything’s going terribly wrong, and i can’t keep torturing myself by studying this shit.”

you dropped your head and rested your forehead on your arm that lay on top of the desk in front of you right as the confession slipped from your lips like a dangerous poison that you should not have taken. it was the first time you’d ever said it out loud to someone else to hear — other than the mischievous voice inside your head — how you truly felt about the english major you were pursuing. the fear of judgment and of being too hasty about this decision was corroding every last bit of your emotional health, and because of it, you could sense that a storm was coming. what if you did change majors and ended up not adapting? how would you find a job, or better yet: how would you support living all by yourself if you couldn’t even pick an undergraduate academic path? time was running out, and the unbearable clock inside your mind wouldn’t give you a break. the tick-tacking of the goddamn thing was going to drive you to insanity at any point soon.

“hey, chill for once, okay? it’s normal to feel like that and to want something new. hell, i know i had to change my major twice before finding out what i actually wanted to do. jae did the same thing. you’re not alone.” jeno offered you a small yet reassuring smile or someone who didn’t quite know what to say but still wanted to see his friend more relaxed.

“exactly! take a deep breath and think things through with an easy heart. if you need help, we’re here to help you." swallowing the last bite of the sandwich he had bought earlier, renjun tapped the notebook in front of him. “how’s that linguistics project going?”

as you raised your head, you shook your head in a negative sign. “i mean, it’s good. too good, actually… and that’s sort of the problem. like, the dude i’m working with is super sweet and really fucking good at this class and so he’s kind of doing the whole thing by himself and dragging me along with it ever since we started. i feel terrible, even if he says it’s all good and stuff, but it is what it is, i guess.”

before either of the guys could express any opinion about what was just said, a guy with freshly cut black hair — it was even possible to see the drawing of a spiderweb on the left side of his undercut —, earphones in and a large yankees shirt approached the desk, more specifically you, and offered a genuine smile that wasn’t common to see between two colleagues who were only working on a school project together at you. the unknown man squatted so he could be at your height and unlocked his ipad’s screen to the word document the two of you were using to write notes together, or at least that was the initial idea because the reality was that mark was doing all of it alone, proudly.

“oh, hi, y/n, you good? just wanted to ask you a quick question… have you taken a look at this topic right here? i know we’re only supposed to work on it in two weeks but i was wondering if maybe you’ve come up with the same conclusion as me.”

feeling a thousand times more embarrassed than if a professor asked you to present a thirty-minute seminar alone in front of the whole class, you felt the tip of your fingers getting cold and a thin droplet of sweat rolling down your temple. “uhm, hey, mark. yeah, about that… look, i didn’t really have a chance to look at that yet, i’m sorry. i can barely manage this week’s assignments, let alone two weeks from now. i- i’ll text you when i read it, okay?”

you didn’t know it at the time — or if you did, you had an enviable ability of discretion — but every single time mark heard his name escape from your heavenly drawn lips, his heart would skip a beat or two and he felt like he was about to combust at any second. it was the first time in his whole life that he had ever felt that way about someone and dealing with feelings of that magnitude was both weird and extraordinary, which meant that the ravenette wasn’t completely aware of how to process them. mark’s solution for his overwhelming thoughts whenever you were around was to take charge of everything he could in that project, to make you feel relaxed about that one particular class. the canadian was terrible at linguistics, for his skills were much more reliable during literature classes: he could interpret and internalize poetry from the eighteenth century like it was nothing, and plays written in latin during the roman empire were of natural understanding for him; and yet, ever since the first day of that semester in which it was requested that both of you joined efforts to build the complicated assignment, it was impossible for mark to not pull all-nighters reading texts and more texts, watching one video class after another that broke down the subject of that class just so he could give his absolute best when the time came to work alongside you and you didn’t find him an idiot, as most people in that university usually did after meeting him for the first time.

mark just wanted to impress you and the last thing he could be worried about was doing all that alone, as long as it meant that he could still have the minimum interaction with you.

“yeah, sure, that’s cool. if you need anything let me know, alright?”

you were still in a state of complete shock. no words would come out of your mouth, making it impossible to answer properly the question directed at you by the boy that a year before was the reason for many sleepless nights and therapy sessions, through no fault of his, which was even worse, because mark was perfect and you hated yourself for how everything ended.

a cold breeze, too cold for a summer night, hit the both of you with enough strength to make you shiver and it was only then that you realized that none of your friends were around anymore. you were alone again with mark for what had felt like a lifetime since he left the country for an exchange program in london and with enough unspoken words to make the whole situation a million times more uncomfortable than it needed to be. what were you supposed to say right now? “oh, hi, mark, long time no see! listen, i’m really sorry for being horrible to you last year, i’ve spent the last six months torturing myself because i only woke up to the fact that i had let the perfect guy for me get away too late to try and fix everything”? you ran your fingers through your hair, knowing that there were no words of your knowledge that could make it easier, that could put together again the pieces of what had once been something magical that the two of them were building.

you couldn’t care less about all those times your therapist tried to be kinder to your heart than you had ever been, or how your friends always tried to distract your mind from the constant haunt of self-collection and, to be honest, didn’t really mind that yes, after all the effort and studying, you had managed to change your major to something you actually enjoyed if the price for it was to drop the perfect crystal piece that was mark’s precious heart. there were no words that could take that back, and going against every piece of advice that was given to you, you had imagined more times than you’d like to admit how this encounter would play out: what you would do, what you would say or not say, how it’d feel… but none of those scenarios inside your mind was anywhere near to the real sensation of being in front of him again.

mark looked taller — or maybe it was just the feeling of missing him crushing your soul and clouding your judgment —, the slim body now gave way to the body of a man who went to the gym and tried to truly take care of his health, his hair that previously used to be as dark as the t-shirts he used to enjoy wearing was now covered in a shade of red so bright that it reminded you of his favorite superhero’s suit. even still, the one thing that caught your attention the most were his eyes. before mark left, before the whole chaos, they were always big and full of life, like those of a curious cub and you could always feel a cozy warmth travel across your body when mark looked at you with such brightness; however, it seemed that ever since the canadian got back in town, they were opaque, closed off to the outer world as if his eyes were now carrying some kind of intense melancholy behind them. the familiar redness in his sclerae, months ago, used to always be accompanied by an excited and smiling version of mark lee, but that night the only thing apparent to you was that lee was holding on to weed like some kind of way to numb the break-up pain.

the redhead had lived a thousand different lives during his exchange: saw and learned things that he knew he would never have achieved if he hadn't accepted the opportunity to go to england and yet, his mind couldn’t recall any of those experiences with the genuine happiness he should’ve felt like any other normal and grateful person would if they were on his shoes; to mark, ever since you left him all alone, he had turned into nothing but an empty shell of what should’ve been the real mark lee. what were his experiences, his learnings, his funny stories if, at any moment, he was allowed to at least call the person he loved and share all of that with her?

“yeah, i guess i’m okay.” you answered, holding back a cry that was stuck in your throat before looking away. “you?”

a shiver went down the english student as he waited for his project partner to arrive at the coffee shop you two had agreed to meet at to finish for good the agonizing linguistics document. it didn’t even seem real that you were finally concluding the most stressful and endless project of your university career until that moment and despite the sweet taste of reaching the finish line, mark had on his lips a bitter one, because he knew that the very instant you pressed “send” on the body of that e-mail to your professor, all of his excuses to talk to you would come to an end. it was only the beginning of november, you should spend at least a few more weeks studying together if said professor were to follow a normal academic calendar like the rest of his fellow colleagues of the department.

mark would only have one last chance of making this work out and that chance was right there and then. anxiety and fear were destroying the boy with more strength than he himself was biting through his nails waiting for you to arrive.

“gosh, mark, i’m so sorry!” you said in a panting tone when you finally managed to get to the coffee shop and met the guy that, by that point, had already become your friend. “the bus took forever to get to the stop i needed and then the subway was also chaotic… anyways, i’m sorry that i’m late.”

the both of you stayed a long time in that coffee shop, not only finishing the assignment but also laughing together and watching a few episodes of modern family on his computer as a way to relax after all the constant flow of negative emotions the both of you were facing during that semester due to not only that particular class but also all the other ones with their enormous reading load. by the time you had indeed finished what you were supposed to do, you were feeling so comfortable in mark’s presence that you didn’t even notice when you heart started to race faster and faster before the mundane things the lee did: the way he smiled from ear to ear, or how kind he was to everyone around him. you were starting to fall in love with how mark explained all the different concepts he used to build his arguments across the paper like someone would explain the most basic things to a child, and you thought it was sweet the way he would say “dude” and “no way” every couple of sentences that fell from his lips. but, above all, unconsciously, the way mark seemed to glow every time he looked at you was ethereal to your eyes.

as soon as you sent the hated file, it started to rain on the outside of the coffee shop, but contrary to the ideal scenario, you couldn’t stay in there just waiting until the climate conditions became more favorable because the two of you had places to be at, on opposite directions. there would be no other alternative but to run to the nearest subway station, or in the brunette’s case, the bus stop.

mark immediately took off his hoodie to shield you as best as he could from the rain, in exchange for you protecting his backpack that contained his computer as if your life depended on it, the moment you two stepped outside the establishment and something of a thunderstorm was taking over the avenue. mark couldn’t help it and ended up laughing at the situation you two had found yourselves in, thinking about how he wished he was a little less broke and had a car to take the girl of his dreams back to her place without having to worry about the rain, or how he wished he was stronger to pick you up and carry you to the subway station and, with that, spare your shoes from coming in contact with the soaked surface of the sidewalk. before you could notice, you were right in front of the stairs that led to the station.

“bye, i think.” you said, giggling along with him while you tried to fix your hair that, despite mark’s hoodie’s protection, still got wet from the rain.

the lee was going to answer you like a decent and proper person, he really was, but in that very moment, a raindrop fell from the marquee above you and somehow managed to hit you right on the forehead, which made you close your eyes, but mark kept his wide open. with an automatic reaction of his body, almost like an involuntary movement that he was incapable of controlling — such as the beats of his accelerated heart — his left hand traveled to your neck while his right thumb was busy drying the solitary raindrop slowly, to give his mind time to analyze every little inch of your face so close to his. mark tried to respond with words to your farewell, but his impulse to kiss you was far stronger than any cohesive phrase that his brain could formulate in that moment.

the literature student, now in his final semester, nodded as he bit his lower lip and those opaque eyes fell to the floor beneath his feet after stepping on the remaining of his blunt. mark didn’t even know why he started that conversation in the first place, it was obvious that it was impossible for him to stand close to you without it affecting some part of him — whether for good or for bad — and even still, there he was, not managing to say a single word to you, nor being able to get closer, just feeding that giant gray and terrifying cloud that grew over both of your heads due to the impasse of what this was and what it should have been.

unlike his mind, that was only able to repeat tirelessly the day he finally built the confidence to kiss you, yours was in a hurricane of terrible memories that involved the brief, yet intense, relationship you two shared — or whatever the hell one could call it. how was it even possible that something that lasted only four months could leave such deep scars?

if mark was trying to hold back a smile remembering how it felt to have your lips on top of his, you were only torturing yourself with the replayed image of mark being crushed in front of you, by no fault other than your own. it was your fault that fear was allowed to consume every single good thing that the lee had ever given you; it was your fault that you’d thought that whole thing was a sick and sadistic joke from the universe and that, in reality, there was no way someone like him could've ever fallen in love with you. in the deepest, darkest, cruelest part of your soul, you were convinced that everything was your fault and not your mind trying to destroy you before something so pure and happy.

you were a sinking ship, navigating towards a port with not a single sight of a lighthouse’s spark to help you, not knowing how to reach the treasure that awaited your arrival because other people had already destroyed the lighthouse. the ability to grope around, trying to find yourself in the darkness you’d placed yourself, was stripped away from you the second you gave in to the bruises that were caused by third parties, and mark knew it wasn't your fault, although it was still difficult to try and be the guide to someone that wouldn't allow them to have access to the heat and light from the fire he tried to offer.

without even realizing it, the silenced cry stuck in your throat for months on end started to escape, not giving you any power to control it. you felt anger, sadness, frustration and you were missing mark… all at the very same time, in an endless swirl triggered by the mere vision of having mark back into your reality.

just like the first time you kissed, the unconscious answer of mark lee’s body to the sound of you crying after such a long time being away from you was to wrap his arms around your body without allowing himself to give too much thought to the action that just took place. if it was even possible, noticing you needing him in any way, shape or form was a true calling for him and it didn't matter how much time could've gone by, the lee couldn't ignore it. to love you and protect you was just as natural as breathing.

between the supplications for your tears to stop and hair strokes, mark then began to feel something that he thought was dead coming back to life inside the hollow box that was his chest. for months now, the redhead just knew that his heart was no longer there. instead, it must've been put inside a bottle and thrown away into the ocean that separated his emotions from his rational mind, as if he wasn't even the owner of his own feelings.

“please, princess, don't cry. i’m begging you.”

the cruelty of your mind wouldn't give you a break for not even a single second ever since the last time you've heart mark’s melodious voice so close to your ear, and the fact that it carried the same heavy tone of request didn't help with your genuine desire to stop your sobbings as your face was pressed against his chest. in that moment, the last thing on your mind were the looks that other people could be directing at the two of you; you could only see the desperation all over the face of the only man you've ever truly loved. he was in such pain that day — the day you told him you didn't want to see him anymore. soon, though, that image was replaced with the memory of the gut-wrenching feeling of chronic emptiness that filled your chest the following week and you came to your senses that you had make a mistake, but that it was also too late: mark was in another country, it was far too late to ask for forgiveness.

“i know you probably hate me right now. i shouldn't have done that, i shouldn't have said that, i was such an idiot, stupid… i'm sorry, mark, i don't know what was going on in my mind to treat like that, i-”

that sobbing wouldn't allow you to form coherent sentences properly and the way you were crying so helplessly was becoming melancholic instead of just sad to the man holding you. if only mark could get into your merciless head just how he would never be able to hate you, not in a million years, not when there was so much love, desire and adoration intrinsic to the image he had of you, then maybe that big gray cloud would disappear forever and the two of you could just live like he hoped for. all mark wanted was to have the privilege of loving you again.

“y/n, look at me” mark held the red and tear wet face of his beloved girl with kindness while his tone of voice was filled with all the firmness the moment could ask for. “for christ’s sake, y/n, i love you. i could never hate you. dude, really, for once just keep your head out of this and focus on what i’m telling you right now. i love you and this whole time i was thinking of you. only you.”

even if he knew you wouldn't answer anything for a few seconds, or maybe even minutes, mark just allowed a sweet smile to appear on his lips while he delighted himself with the feeling of being allowed to hold your face once again, to stroke your cheeks and to place small, delicate kisses all over your beautiful face — which he knew would force your breathing to slow down, giving you the chance to calm down again. the canadian was smelling like the combination of weed and beer, but somehow, your body knew how to identify the familiar and characteristic smell of his cologne; the same smell your searched for and ached for during the coldest nights, when missing him was too overwhelming it almost felt like a hole was being digged up in your chest. that familiarity was the reason for the shy smile that took over your lips, that opened a breach for light and happiness after all those tears while mark traced your lips with his thumb, admiring you like you were some kind of artwork created just for him.

“i was made to stay just like this with you, princess. and i’m not leaving this time.”

#— ⟡ 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐥𝐞𝐞 !#— ⟡ 𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐩 !#— ⟡ 𝐧𝐜𝐭 !#mark lee #mark lee x reader #mark lee x y/n #mark lee x you #mark lee angst #mark lee fluff #mark lee sfw #nct 127 #nct u #nct dream #nct #nct dream drabbles #mark lee drabbles

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minleeeknow · 2 months

Text

‘stray cat’

‘pairing’ -이민호 (lee minho/lee know) x fem!reader

‘genre’ - fluff, college au

‘tw’ - kissing, flirting, teasing, lost cat, angst if you look closely

‘word count’ - 1.4 k

‘to get tagged’ - pls reply to the taglist post, this post, or just ask me

‘lee’s notes’ - lowercase intended, not proofread

pls note, reblog, anything

minho hears a scratching sound come from his window. he looks up to see the shadow of a cat perched on his windowsill.

a faint meow comes from the cat and it scratches its claws against the glass again. minho opens his window and a slender siamese leaps into his bedroom. the feline weaves itself between his legs, purring softly.

“hi, kitty,” minho coos. he has a soft spot for cats and he reaches down to stroke the cat’s soft fur. the cat stretches across his legs, its purrs getting louder.

minho notices the mark of a collar among the fluffy ruff of fur. “did you run away, kitty?” minho asks, crouching down. his long fingers scratch the feline’s dark brown ears.

another familiar mew announces the presence of one of minho’s cats, soonie. soonie and the new cat sniff each other before leaping into minho’s lap. he laughs as he runs his hands through their soft fur.

the next morning, minho wakes up with a light weight on his chest and sees a curious face of a siamese cat staring at him.

“hi kitty,” minho says, booping the cat’s nose with his index. eager for the same attention, soonie, doongie, and dori leap onto minho’s body and shove their faces into his.

on the other side of his bedroom wall, you curl up on your bed, lonely as hell. your cat had disappeared yesterday, leaving only her collar. the thought of your trigonometry test and dance assessment forces you to get out of bed.

dark rainclouds gather in the sky, signaling the arrival of rain soon.

as you lock your apartment door, you see your neighbor say goodbye to his cats. a deep longing wrenches through your heart as you listen to him.

“bye soonie! bye doongie! bye dori! bye kitty!” he says with his beautiful, smooth, melodious voice.

four cats? you think, confused. i thought he only had three, since like, yesterday. i think i’m losing it.

you don’t realize you’re staring until he says, “hi.”

“hi,” you squeak shyly, self-consciously fixing your hair. as he looks at you, you realize how pretty he is. he looks at you with gorgeous big boba-colored eyes thoughtfully.

“do i know you?” he asks. then he snaps his fingers before you can process. “you’re yn, right? from my dance class, trig, chem… and linguistics?”

“yeah,” you utter, staring at him hypnotically.

“i’m minho,” he introduces himself, smiling. you almost faint at his cute little bunny smile.

“yn,” you reply, finally mustering enough energy to make your brain cells function half of what they’re capable of.

“well, i’ll see you around?” minho asks. “maybe let’s exchange numbers later, huh?” before you can reply, he leaves with your heart, his bag slung across one shoulder, throwing a finger heart back at you and a small, shy smile.

you smile back, half in shock, half in ecstasy, your loneliness forgotten.

the solemn day drags on until lunch break, when you decide to escape to your favorite cafe. you haul your bag onto your table and take out your folder, a handful of sharpies, and your phone.

“alright, chai, i’m getting you home,” you breathe out as you open your folder. taking out your first missing cat poster, you take a black sharpie and uncap it.

your hand flies across the paper as you write in neat script “missing cat. female brown siamese with blue eyes. comes to the name chai. please call xxx yyy once seen.”

“hey, mind if i sit?”

you look up from your work. “oh. yeah, sure, sorry about my mess,” you murmur apologetically. minho shrugs, flashing another cute smile. he toys with a black bracelet, matching the white one on his wrist.

“why aren’t you with your friends?” he asks hesitantly. you stiffen immediately, your grip on your pen tightening. minho notices, of course he notices, he can notice anything.

“oh. i’m sorry–” he stammers, his cheeks reddening. you don’t say anything, you’re too focused on trying not to break down and on your handwriting. his pretty eyes land on your cat’s picture and he freezes.

minho stares at the image of your cat, his heart racing. his hands shake as he thinks back about the stray cat he cared for yesterday. the kitty he found looked exactly like your chai.

“um, i–i have to go,” minho stammers, standing up. his bunny smile is gone, instead he’s biting his lip. you stand up as well, trying to grab his hand before he leaves.

“min–” minho slips out of your grasp and disappears, his eyes covered by his bangs.

minho avoids you the rest of the day. dance practice was especially hard not to interact with him. you were paired up with him, like fate.

you can still remember the way his hands held you up when he accidentally crashed into you, the way he licked his lips nervously as he stared into your eyes.

“sorry,” you mumble under your breath to him as you accidentally elbowed him. minho tries not to smile at your obvious flusteredness as he breathes down your neck. you shiver involuntarily and he smirks, suddenly summoning some energy and forgetting the game of avoidance.

“you’re a good dancer,” he murmurs in your ear at the end of practice as he flies past you and disappears through the door. once minho leaves, the guilt of taking your cat gnaws at his heart again.

as soon as he steps outside, the drizzling of rain starts. minho stares up at the flecks of water painting across the sky and smiles slightly.

he twists the key to his door quickly and opens it. his three cats attack him and minho leans down to scratch each of their ears. he realizes his kitty, your chai, isn’t there. instead he sees chai’s silhouette on the window. chai taps the glass and minho opens it, confused.

the rain patters loudly against the rooftops of the ground floor and before minho can blink, chai is gone.

“no!”

as you walk back to your apartment, the rain attacks you viciously. you have your hood on but you can feel the wetness seap into the fabric. realizing the hood is useless, you take it off, letting the raindrops fall on your head.

suddenly you see a siamese cat a few meters in front of you on the sidewalk, looking straight at you. you blink a few times, thinking it’s an illusion of the rain and your mind.

“chai?” the cat meows and turns around and runs away from you. you take a fraction of a second to react and you’re running after her.

“you freaking cat–” you mutter as you run along the side of the buildings to avoid the random people walking.

chai leads you to what used to be your favorite park until–until you discovered your ex was cheating on you here.

you see chai walk up to a shape that looks vaguely familiar holding an umbrella. you get closer when you recognize them.

“minho?”

“yn?”

minho looks up at you, memorizing your body. your cheeks are flushed from running and your hair is damp from the rain.

you open your mouth but no sound comes out. minho laughs and takes your hand, pulling you under the umbrella and closer. your back is against his chest and he rests his chin on the top of your head.

“so, here’s the short version,” minho begins quietly, suddenly shy. “i may have accidentally taken in your cat not knowing she was yours and here we go, i was scared you’d think i had stolen her but then she escaped and–”

you unravel his arms from your waist and press your index to his lips, stopping his frantic flow of words.

“hey. it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “i guess she wanted us to–” your voice becomes a squeak. “be together?” you feel your cheeks turn red and you bring a hand up to cover your embarrassed face.

instead, minho catches it and pulls you swiftly into a kiss. the feeling of his soft lips against yours makes your heart race in your chest, threatening to burst out. minho cups your chin and the kiss becomes harder.

your mingled breaths warm the atmosphere around you until you both break the kiss. minho looks down shyly, a small smile on his lips.

“and all this time, i thought she was just a stray cat.”

‘taglist’

@goldenjupiterz networks ! @k-labels

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ss-skyearn · 11 months

Text

Ketamine

❝Are you floating again?❞

PAIRING : Lee Felix x female reader.

WORD COUNT : 4.6k.

GENRE : Smut, Angst, Fluff.

WARNINGS/CONTENT : Felix freckles appreciation, substance abuse (mentioned; not too graphic), I can't write him without glorifying his cunty voice so there's that.

SMUT WARNINGS : Soft dom!felix, sub!reader, praise, gentle dirty talk, choking that's more of just throat holding, size kink for like a second, unprotected intercourse, some of the hottest and most explicit shit I've written in forever 🔞

Seizing kisses. Skin hot to the touch. Burning mouths. Blood ready to boil over.

There's not much it takes to be riled up all over again, not when it's him in question.

Mind growing soft with a single touch, numb with a single caress, blacking out with a single press, you wish you had time enough to find out if he could someday anaesthetise you better than ketamine.

You're pretty sure of the answer regardless.

The floor buzzes beneath feet thumping to the music, disoriented, uncoordinated, moving along to a rhythm all together different, hazy minds conjuring up varying interpretations of the EDM pulsating through the crowded nightclub, swarms of bodies lost in a world far off from reality.

But you are focused on just one. The one who happens to be in your arms. Lost in a world you so wish to be a part of— come to think of it, maybe you are, for his hold on you, your waist tightens a measure, pulling you into his frame, all lithe figure and lean muscles, no damn given to the sweat running down your backs.

"Hey, pretty," he grins. Mischievous. Risqué. Indecorous.

"Hey, pretty," you echo. Capitulating. Yielding. Succumbing.

It's been far too long of this already.

Wrapping arms around the long neck that's entirely too unmarked for your liking, you lean forward, press your mouth to the sweaty skin of his earlobe, let out a confession, soft and sultry, "Care to help get the bead off my bracelet?"

He chuckles, pulls back enough to fix you with a look so deep you feel you're drowning, smirking as your eyes linger on his lips which he then licks, slowly, as if savouring his own taste, "That's one hell of a unique preposition," voice a striking undertone to the bass of the jazz infiltrating the club, you wish the ketamine had been a little stronger.

You shrug, the leer to your mouth unrelenting, "What can I say, I'm full of surprises."

"How many?"

"Why don't you find out?"

He laughs again, this one high pitched, leaking delight. The contrast baffles you— the low baritone to his voice when he commands it, the joyous shrill when he lets go. The itch to uncover its various pitches, vibrations and frequencies runs rampant, deep to the bones, the urge far from being tamable by now, and really, you hold no desire to pursue such fruitless a task.

You encircle your palm around his wrist, secure, enough to let him know of your intentions, and he does— well, he thinks he does.

You tug him along, him following willingly, and breeze past the turn to the rooms—

"Where are we—"

—to stop right in front of the round table, barely visible in the darkness engulfing the space, if not for the neon paints and brushes thrown astrew, the wooden surface marked with streaks of neon.

"Let me paint you," you breathe, looking straight into his eyes, expression unreadable.

He laughs again, this one deep and low, and you resist the shiver that's already threatening to move up your spine, "Huh, full of surprises indeed," he says in lieu of an answer.

You'll assume it's a yes.

So you put your palms flat on his shoulders, forcing him down on the chair in an unexpected display of impatience, and he squeaks, "I don't think it's allowed. Only the artist can use the paints—"

A finger to his lips, his mouth sealing shut, the almost immediate obedience a cause to your smile turning saccharine, "Don't you worry about that. Stay here."

You make your way over to the artists behind the counter, a few feet away from the workstation Felix is sat at, and true to form, make your way back to him with a stamp in your hand.

His eyes widen in intrigued surprise and you smile, wordlessly tugging his wrist and pressing the bottom of the stamp, it leaving a blue hued clover leaf on his pale skin, indicative of the liberty you're both now allowed of indulging in the wide variety of the UV paints decorating the table top.

"How did you manage that?"

You shrug again, amused at his bafflement, "I just don't like hearing no."

"Good thing I didn't say it, then," he says, alluding to the conversation you had the day prior, on the wet sand, by the shore, under the moonlight.

"Good thing you didn't," you agree with a grin.

The brush calls out to you, drawing you in like a magnet would an iron nail. You dip it in the neon green colour squirted onto the pallet from earlier, swirling till the bristles saturate with tincture.

The first press of the tip of the brush to his cheek causes him to gasp, the cold paint a bright contrast against his overheated skin, one you try to ease with the moulding of your lips to the opposite cheek, planting a loud, wet kiss.

He sighs at that, hand reaching forward to rest on your bare thigh, a silent appreciation to your display of affection.

You smile against his skin, taking it as the cue to continue, repeating the process over and over— meeting just the tip of the brush to the skin on one side of his face, brushing your lips to the side opposite.

By the time you're done with him, his cheekbones are dusted pink, lips parted to give way for silent, laboured breaths, chest heaving, both hands now gripping onto the flesh of your thighs.

"There you are," you reward his patience with a kiss to his slightly open mouth, knowing the effect the temperature play had on him.

"Done?"

"Yeah, just—"

"Is it done or not?"

"Yeah, it is, just—"

You don't get to complete the sentence, for the second it makes its way past your lips, he's already hauling you up and away from the metal stools, weaving the way around sweaty bodies a little too precisely given his dazed state, and you attempt to stop yourself from letting out the endeared chortle tickling your throat.

You fail.

The laugh is genuine, a rarity for you as of late, "Don't you want to see the design on your face?"

Grip on your wrist tightening, he mutters something incoherent— and impatient, if your ears don't fail you— and your laugh only augments, the flutter to your heart almost as genuine as one a long time love would elicit.

That's cause enough for the laugh to die out, and there it is again, the voice in your head, the gaping to your heart— what if you don't see it through, what if it isn't enough, what if all the beads to your bracelet are gone but it still doesn't amount to anything, what if, what if—

"What is it, angel?" his voice is gentle to a degree of surprise, only further confirming of your apprehension of the outcome to this idea, this stupid idea you once thought would be the answer to all that is wrong with you, the mindless proposition you let sweep you off your feet, the scheme no longer seeming likely to be met with a satiating ending, after all.

Is there a way for it to be? Is there really such a thing as a satiating ending?

The graze of fingers against your cheek is grounding, clementing, nurturing in a way it's not allowed to be, you're sure, but you lean into it all the same, the urge to be taken care of encompassing all else.

"Look at me," the taste of his Martini breath in your mouth is what lets you know of his sudden proximity, for your mind has long since lost the ability to pick up on the ongoings of your surrounding, doing the only thing it's good for lately— turning and turning, overthinking, not thinking, processing, comprehending, giving up, crying out to be shut down.

"Angel," the word is lost between your mouths, the Martini flavour so much more prominent now that you feel in it straight on your taste buds, and maybe it's your brain playing tricks that it so loves to, but you swear it tastes better on his tongue than it did on the sugar coated rim of the lowball glass; enough to render you dizzy with a wet contact lasting no more than a few seconds, something seven glasses of watered down alcohol couldn't achieve.

The touch ends before you've had the opportunity to savour it for what it was, and you find Felix looking down at you with so tender a look, you almost wish it didn't have to end like this, that maybe, just maybe, you would've stood a chance, had fate not been so cruel, "Are you floating again?"

You smile, a bearing you've taken to displaying on occasions where emotions fail you, where your feelings are too complicated to be picked apart and be presented with a singular expression, and it's only with years of conditioning that you've trained yourself to perfect it, the reality of it being unalike from the humorous stretch of lips not something anyone is able to pick up on— not that they care enough to anyway.

But he does.

He does pick up. He does care.

You almost believe it.

"Mm," you hum in place of an answer, neither confirming nor refuting, and much like it's always been, you assume there's that, an open ending, a loose offer to mark the end of this discussion, for surely no one is interested in actually knowing you, not now at least, even if they once did, not when it's this close.

But he doesn't.

He doesn't ignore it. He does care.

"I told you not to do that when you're with me."

"Couldn't help it," you despise it, you hate it; the wobble to your voice, the wetness to your tone, the perspiration already forming around your orbs, you hate it all.

He thumbs the tears yet to be shed, wipes them before they have a chance to taint your skin with a wet trail, "That's why I'm here, aren't I? So that you don't float away from me?"

"Then make me stay," you say, without thinking much of the ambiguity of that which you just uttered, and you wouldn't, not if he didn't suddenly look so stricken, "I-I mean—"

"I know, angel, I know what you mean," understanding to a fault, he'd make for a good partner your betraying mind tells you, for all the act of non-functioning it put forth, it certainly has no problem coming up with this particular notion.

Your hand has a mind of its own, reaching forward to trace the specks of neon green dusting his cheekbones, and it's like he suddenly remembers they are there at all, "What did you draw on my face anyway?"

The smirk you sport is more endeared than anything, but it's reason enough for him to cock up an eyebrow nonetheless, "Angel. What did you draw?" there it is, the low baritone, the bass so low. Chill. Arousing.

"Just made you look prettier," you shrug, as though the sentiment was at all possible. Lee Felix looked like a heart attack at the worst of times, bad for the weak of heart, lethal for the thrill-seekers. Gorgeous. Deadly.

"Come on," the tug to your wrist isn't as tight at it once was, but you don't, for once, think about the fact that your stalling might have dampened the urgency of the affair, for as much as you despise yourself for doing just that, you'd despise him even more for tending to your needs so sincerely when it wasn't his care to give in the first place.

So you don't think about it. You let yourself be swept up in the thump of the track, the jostle of the bodies as you make your way to God knows where, the security of his hand wrapped around your wrist, just a tad above the bracelet left with a lone bead, the last one. Bright green, almost the same as the paint decorating his face.

The door collides with your back, closing with the impact of your body, and you barely register the click of the automated lock, as your mind is otherwise occupied with a swollen mouth, soft tongue, sticky lips, all over your own.

He kisses you like he's consuming you, licks you like he's tasting you, bites into you like he's considering cannibalism.

How do you know? Because you feel the same. Or maybe you're projecting. Maybe. It's hard to think when he's pressed up against you like this, the perfect moor to grip on to, the desired anchor to your ever floating mind.

Hands on either side of your head, he parts from you, the reluctance written all over the lines of his face, popping open the buttons to his silk shirt with no small amount of ungrace.

"Fuck," he utters as the third button pushes back into the slit he just so tiringly worked it out of, hands slick with a nonexistent lubricant, for surely getting a simple button undone isn't as tedious a task as he's making it out to be, the booze in his system not withstanding.

The thought gets a laugh out of you, genuine and happy, and the lust brewing up in his orbs dims just a little as he catches your gaze, hands slipping from the cursed button to find purchase on your waist, "Help a pretty boy out?"

You snort even as you reach forward to oblige, "Full of ourselves, are we?"

"It's hard not to be when the sexiest girl just spent almost an hour painting my face," he chuckles, as self assured as ever.

Was that really a whole hour?

"Your horny was showing, babe," he winks, cheeky and all sorts of suggestive.

You swat at his arm, only half trying to escape his grip on you, the subsequent sigh of defeat more for show than anything.

"Speaking of," he pulls back only from the waist up, his hips very distractingly still pressed into yours, "what did you even do up there for all that long?"

As his eyes latch onto something on the bedside wall, you see the playfulness drain from his face, lips parting into a silent gasp, eyes the widest they are able to go, "Holy shit."

You turn your head to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror, the way his eyes glide over the constellation of the varying dots and sparkle-shaped neon face paint scattered across his face, carefully marked exactly over each of his freckles.

One of his hands snakes its way up to his face, fingers hovering over each spot as he maps out the path trailed by the paint, as if himself paying attention to the position of the beauty spots marking his skin, "You drew my freckles," he whispers, voice sounding far away, as if emerging from somewhere deep under the water, muffled by the current of the flow, suppressed under the weight of the fauna, the food chain, crushed by the waterspout of emotions, knowing the futility of trying to voice out his feelings over the violent buzz of the storm, and so doesn't even try.

"I told you I made you look prettier. The prettiest," you fake nonchalance, trying to mask how much your heart wants to leap into a giddy dance at his reaction, trying so hard to not let it say : See, I told you. He sees it, sees it for what it is. Not a casual painting. He sees me in it, no matter how much you try to hide it.

You take his face in your hands, the shock and awe and whatever else that he's feeling having made him numb, soft, pliant, and guide him back to your mouth.

I cannot be hidden, your unforgiving heart echoes.

You push at his chest, willing for desire to overtake the ringing in your head, back him up until the back of his knees touch the edge of the bed, until he buckles under the momentum and falls on his back, one hand still lightly touching a painted heart on his left cheek, over the most prominent one of his freckles, one that stood out to you the most every time you tried to memorise the pattern the marks on his skin make, one you deemed fit to be assigned a different shape, a heart no less. He touches it softly, tenderly, as if afraid to smudge it away should the pressure at the pad of his finger be too much.

But it is too much. It's all too damn much.

"Let's not talk about it," before the sentiment could even make its way out of your mouth, you had known yourself to be a vile creature to even say it out loud, but the bile clogging up your throat is just the cherry on top. Great. Even your body agrees with how deplorable you really are.

But he smiles. Your heart breaks into a million little shards of ice, sticking into your soft organs, threatening to slit open your skin and fly out of your being.

It's not so bad, you think, at least the blood pumping beast is no longer there to echo how much it yearns for him anymore.

"Got it. Got you," he says, slipping into the role previously requested, taking the signals of start now when you don't even remember giving them away.

He flips the two of you over, bracing himself above you, bringing his mouth towards yours slowly, in a fashion completely opposed to the hungry way he lashes onto you awaiting lips.

He tastes as bitter as alcohol, as sweet as the cranberry juice mixed somewhere in the cocktail, as tart as the lemon he bit into not long after. He tastes like want, like ardour, like a mistake that's not a mistake if you don't let it be, like a regret waiting to be felt that doesn't need to be present at all, like everything that you could ever want, like everything you can't have, not in this lifetime.

Seizing kisses. Skin hot to the touch. Burning mouths. Blood ready to boil over.

There's not much it takes to be riled up all over again, not when it's him in question.

Mind growing soft with a single touch, numb with a single caress, blacking out with a single press, you wish you had time enough to find out if he could someday anaesthetise you better than ketamine.

You're pretty sure of the answer regardless.

Shucking off the rest of your clothes is a frenzy, one you don't remember amidst the clatter of teeth and clash of tongues, but you're elated that it's over all the same, and it's with barely controlled impatience that you manage to urge him to hurry along.

The sink stings a little, like it always does the first time, but you're not too proud to admit that his size might have something to do with it burning a little brighter than it has with past partners.

"That's it angel, nice and wet for me, that's it," he rasps from somewhere deep in his throat, deep voice turning down another octave, working you up even more, enough to allow him free access into your inviting heat, all restraints barred.

"That's it," he hums, hands grasping your waist, thumbs rounding gentle circles on your hip, letting you adjust.

Little does he know, you don't want to.

"Move, Felix—"

He chuckles, that throaty voice doing more for you than you care admit, leaning down to his elbows, swiping his nose left and right, across your own, "Is my angel impatient, hm?"

You whine, having had enough of his teasing, burning hot to the touch, and in this moment, it's all you can do to not snap.

"Felix, I swear to fucking god—"

He just laughs, apparently amused by your misery, head dropping down even lower, long platinum strands tickling your forehead.

In a momentary lapse of judgement, you wrap your legs around his waist, arms around neck, arching up, building the momentum to flip the two of you over, and you swear you're this close to having him on his back, so so close—

A click of tongue, a shove to your calves, and you're flat on your back again, caged in by his weight.

"None of that," he tsks, "you just lie there and look pretty for me, okay angel?"

You whine again, patience hanging onto the last fucking straw, "I don't think—" you gasp, the palladium of his rings cool against your neck. He applies no pressure at all, but the mere act of him wrapping his hand around your throat has you panting, eyes drooping with arousal, vision blurred even more.

"You were saying?" though unaffected at the surface, his fingers are burning hot on your neck, a sweet juxtaposition to the chill of the metal.

"Fuck—"

"That's what I thought," just like that, he's pulling out so far that you fear he's taking it all away from you, before gliding right back in with a loud slap of his pelvis to yours.

"Oh s-shit."

"This what you wanted?" he sounds cocky, painfully so, and if you were of a more sound mind, you might think of riding the attitude off of him, but as you continue to stare up at him and his stupid pretty eyes, accentuated by the stupid attractive face painting on even more stupid face, you just huff. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Aww," he coos, trails a single lean finger across your jaw, ghost touches over your front, down to your waist where he grips it, hard, "can't speak?"

Oh, this motherfucker.

"You know I could—"

"I know, I know. You could dom the hell out of me. But that's not what you want, is it?" he licks your lower lip, thrusts coming to a stop just to prove a point.

"N-no."

"There's a good girl," the haze to your mind from being handled this way might have something to do with it you assume, but you swear his thrusts are more controlled, more dominating, more demanding, "Just like that, baby. Just lie pretty for me. Just for me, right?"

"Fuck, babe—"

"Answer me. You're pretty just for me, aren't you?"

"I-I'm—"

The condescendance to his smile is something you never thought you'd end up liking, but when he's giving it to you so good, you doubt anything he does will be off putting at all, the power he holds reaching concerning heights, but in this moment, it's all you can do to not give in completely.

"I'm aware angel, it's difficult to talk, isn't it?" he coos, and the subsequent pout that settles on your lips is entirely involuntarily, "I'll help you, it's okay. I'm here, right?"

Your hands reach forward, clawing at his biceps that flex with every forward push of his lower half, forcing your body up with each motion, only to bring you back down with the unyielding grip on your waist, the bruises forming there something you look forward to cherishing, long after the lone bead to your bracelet is gone.

"Say 'I'm pretty. Just for you,' " each word is punctuated with a thrust unlike the ones he's given to you up until now, long and hard, unforgiving, not like you want to. Be forgiven, that is.

"I'm p-pretty—"

"Mhm, that you are."

"For.. f-for—"

"For who, princess?"

"Y-you. Fuck, you-"

"And who am I?"

Your eyes snap open, wide and glassy, and looking up at him, the knot to your tongue tightens, the words you were barely able to string together on the plastic rope now spilling out of it, the bracelet you so hoped to make now gone, leaving behind just the string hanging off from the eye of the metaphorical needle.

You whimper, a sound you barely recognise, the first tear rolling down your temple to find home in your already damp locks, only for another one to follow the wet trail it created.

"Easy, angel," he's a little late in thumbing away your tears this time, them having already marked the skin with their sticky essence, "You do know who I am, right?"

You do, you really do. How could you not? He's the one, the company to your last trip, the shoulder so generously offered, the warm body to your cold nights in the unknown city. The one.

But no matter how hard you try, how much you attempt to channel your thoughts, the name at the edge of your mouth, yet it fizzles out the second you try to force it out. It burns on your tongue, the familiar taste of it, and it's so close, you can feel the silky texture of the way it sounds, it's just there—

"Felix!"

Your body tightens, strains, then convulses with intensity more befitting a seizure, eyes barely coloured, for your irises have all but disappeared in their chase to roll as far back as is humanly possible, a string of nonsensical gibberish falling from your lips, his name suddenly tearing its way past your throat, and once it's said, it's the only thing your vocal chords are capable of vibrating out.

This seems to have awoken something in him, as he yanks at your wrist with unadulterated force, biting into the string of your bracelet, snapping the it with a fierce pull of his teeth, the single bead clattering onto the ground, the resounding bounces clear even amidst the sounds blanketing the room.

"Yes, that's right, that's me," he growls, claiming, animalistic, hips unrelenting in their chase to unmake you, pushing your body up with each stroke, "Say it again, say my name again."

"Fuck. Felix, Felix, Felix, fucking hell—"

"That's it, that's it. Keep calling me. I'm right here."

Your voice grows small, heart thumping loud enough to mask the sound of his body colliding with yours, all that wetness, all that want, all that ardour, it masks it all, "Felix," the name ends with a sob, your mouth parted, body arching up into his.

"You know me now? You know who I am?"

You're still shaking, your thighs trembling, high lasting longer than it ever has, and you are left to wonder if you've begun coming down at all. Indeed, the white hot pleasure has spread all around your field of vision, blending, merging, no longer distinguishable. You don't know where your pleasure ends and his begins, but you behold the scrunch of his face, the slack to his jaw, the shutting of his eyes, the deep moan he tries and fails to stifle with a sink of his teeth into the plush red carpet that is his lower lip.

He catches himself at the last moment as his elbows give out, face mere inches above you, long silver locks having been segregated into sweaty ropes to curtain his forehead and temples, and he looks down at you, panting hard, breath condensing onto your skin.

He's dishevelled. Far gone. Broken.

He still looks like a heart attack.

"Thank you," you whisper, nuzzle into his chest further, plant a grateful kiss to his pectoral.

Perhaps it'd be foolish to thank him for spending a night with you.

It would be, had it been that— a mere night, living on the edge of pleasure, with a warm body, never to meet again.

But it's not, and so it's not.

It's not a mere night. So it's not foolish.

He knows as much, it's reflective in the way his arms wind around you in a fashion that makes you fear he doesn't plan on letting go, and despite the alarms blaring in your head, you lie there, pliant and unmoving, blaming the fact on your exhaustion, "Will you be here when I wake up?" a kiss is pressed to the top of your head, an act somehow more intimate than the activities partaken in thus far.

If he thought that simple action might convince you to change your mind, you're afraid you'll have to let him down.

"You know the answer," you stay still, barely breathing.

"I do," he stays still, mimicking the stance you uphold.

Both still, wide awake, trying to commit the warmth of the other's body to memory, for the night is over, and so is your stay here.

[I plan on writing a spin off to this piece explaining all that's left unanswered; the bracelet, the reason for the main character's departure, why they can't be together, etc. Send an ask if you wish to be tagged when it drops. Meanwhile, you could send me your hypotheses and what you think could be the reasons for the aforementioned events, my ask box is always open to chat. ♡]

Feedback and reblogs are very highly appreciated. They're what keep the community alive and help content creators stay motivated.

[Send an ask if you wish to be added to the permanent taglist.♡]

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seungiepop · 6 months

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𝑵𝒐 𝑵𝒖𝒕 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓

profiles

pairing: enha x best friend reader

characters: all enha members, Shin Yuna (itzy), Choi Beomgyu (TXT), and Mark lee (NCT)

caution: sexual context (only implied on the legal line), cursing, the reader is an 03’ line with sunoo and yuna

genre: social media au and one shots

masterlist | next

ⓝⓝⓝ

THE MAIN BALLERS:

Y/N: twenty year old female who lives with her best friend Yuna, owns a black cat named gus and loves spicy ramen, also works at a cupcake shop down the block to their place.

YUNA: nineteen year female who works at a cupcake shop with her best friend y/n who she is also roommates with, one thing is this girl can never go to sleep without a good joint.

THE JOKES:

HEESEUNG: twenty-two year old male who’s a junior in college and still doesn’t know what he’s majoring in. Lives in the dorms with his roommates Beomgyu and Jay and loves going on late nigh snack runs with y/n.

JAY: twenty-one year old male who sleeps like a bear in hibernation. Roommates with Heeseung and Beomgyu, is a sophomore in college wanting to major in business. Only is willing to get up if it involves a little wake n bake or y/n.

JAKE: twenty year old male who works at the coffee shop right below the girls work at with both Sunoo and Mark. His golden retriever layla adores y/n’s cat gus so much that the poor kitty gets annoyed.

SUNGHOON: twenty year old male who loves to smoke with yuna & y/n, tends to be always be at the girls house 24/7 (practically live there by now). His father owns the building his friends work at so he just goes to hang.

SUNOO: twenty year old male who always compliments y/n’s cute outfits. Works at the coffee shop with Mark and Jake but is never down there because he’s always up at the cupcake shop. Also shares an apartment with Sunghoon but practically lives alone.

JUNGWON: nineteen year old male who shares an apartment with Riki and Jake, works part-time at the coffee shop and cupcake shop when he can to make a bit of money.

THE SCHEMERS:

NI-KI: seventeen year old boy who loves to traumatize his friends for no reason. Roommates with Jungwon and Jake, steals gus from y/n’s place when he can and doesn’t return him until the female goes at picks him up.

BEOMGYU: twenty two year old male, junior in college along with his roommate Heeseung, also doesn’t know what he is majoring in. Loves to bother his other roommate Jay when he’s sleeping, goes over to yuna’s and y/n’s place to eat their left over cupcakes.

MARK: the eldest of the friend group, the twenty-four year old male who met y/n through her older brother and now befriend her and her other friends. Always call him ‘daddy’ in the group chats. Manager of the coffee shop Sunoo, Jake and him work at.

∙ ₒ✰. ∙✧. ∘ ₒ® ✦. ✰∙ ★ ∘ₒ © ∙ ₒ ✰ ∙ ✧ ∘ₒ ® ✦ ✰

taglist- @ilovecheese09 @namdeyuoi @moonshoon @xrr-s4sha

( if the blog isn’t a tinted color then it’s not letting me tag you )

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lixiesfreckless · 5 months

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Burn It | l. m.

the last installment to Punch It, a fic from the PICU

➸ synopsis: The Golden Tire Cup semifinals is today, and Minho has the opportunity to get the Wolfgang Street Racing club to the finals for the first time in four years.

Hopefully with you by his side, he'll be able to make it into the top two.

➸ starring: lee minho x female reader(ft. idols from jypnation, smtown, hybe, kq, everywhere, I went a bit crazy)

➸ word count: 3.6k words

➸ general content: streetracer!minho, very very dangerous street racing(do not attempt to do any of this, no matter how tempting it may be), a stupid amount of cameos, one somewhat misogynistic background character, gearhead culture

➸ warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, a mild car wreck

➸ rating: teen+

➸ author's note: this is(should be) the final official installment to the picu! imagine punch it, floor it, and burn it as one continuous timeline, with the ending being this chapter. do I have a favorite? no, not after writing this chapter.

♫ this fic has a soundtrack! you don't need to listen to it while reading(especially if the lyrics will bother you), but it's a street racing tournament for crying out loud. do yourself a favor and listen to these epic vibes.

yes, it's meant to be listened to in that order(starting from Deja Vu). shuffling it will result in Minho cramming you into an air fryer for 20 minutes at 180 degrees.

♫- Deja Vu

You feel the refreshing spray of hose water on your bare back, soaking your black bikini top for the fourth time this evening.

Whipping around, you find Minho rinsing off the back of his car, free hand stuffed into his pocket as he whistles and avoids eye contact.

He’s hit with a soapy sponge, square on the back of his black shirt.

“Hey!” He ditches the hose, deciding to pause washing the vehicle in favor of chasing you around the bumper.

The Wolfgang racing club had gathered at Changbin’s house for the annual Golden-Tire-Cup-and-car-show-preparation-party, detailing and fixing cars as needed before it’s time for the race, which takes place in the California desert shortly after sundown. Members were littered across the lawn and garage, replacing rims, tightening brakes, and avoiding Minho, who had taken a liking to spraying anyone that came close to his ride.

“Yo Min, I love what you did with the brakes!” Jisung points and yells to him, twirling and fumbling a ratchet wrench as he runs into the garage, kneeling to meet Seungmin who slides out from under someone’s car on a skateboard.

“What did you do to them?” You ask, cocking your head to the side and crossing your arms.

“Oh, I painted them red to match,” he says nonchalantly, the only sign of something strange being the pink dusting his cheeks.

“Match…match what? There’s no red on your car-”

No, but your whole car is red.

A slow smile spreads across your face as you walk around the hood of the car, and Minho only looks up at you right before you lean in and plant a kiss on his cheek. He smiles as you step back, sighing and admiring your teamwork.

The 1993 Toyota MR2 glistens in the late afternoon sun, not a single scratch or scuff mark streaking the ebony shell. Minho doesn’t think the car has been this clean since he first got the keys.

“You nervous at all?”

“Me? Nervous?” He scoffs and waves you off, and then worry creases his features as he drops the act. “...a little. We haven’t made it this far in years.”

“Yeah, but…” you say, pulling him in to wrap your arms around his half-soaked waist, “for the best racer in the city, I think it’s manageable.”

“Laying it on thick, are we?”

“Better take advantage of it while you can,” you giggle, and he rolls his eyes before leaning down.

Suddenly, a set of loud engines cut into the air as they fly around the block corner, cars rumbling and thundering as they slow down and approach Changbin’s house. A modified black vintage Mustang jerks to a stop in the driveway, and then the door flies open, a slender man with long skunk-stripe hair stepping out onto the hot pavement. A leather jacket with the word Guerillaz across the back sits draped on his shoulders as he closes the car door behind him, and other men start leaving their respective cars.

“Whoa whoa whoa, what did I miss?” The man says, tilting down his sunglasses and smirking at the two of you, still holding each other. You take the hose from Minho and aim it at him, spraying a stream of water and sending him into a fit of shrieks as he holds up his team jacket as a shield.

“Look what the scaredy cat dragged in,” Changbin taunts from the garage, before ditching his work gloves and crossing the lawn to meet the unexpected intruder.

Wooyoung catches Changbin in a hug, elated to see his old teammate after so long.

He used to be a part of the Wolfgang racing club before he moved up the coast to Sacramento– but since he couldn’t keep his hands away from the wheel, he ended up making his own club, one that ended up driving back down to team with Wolfgang to win the Kingdom Cup a year later.

They only come back down twice a year; once for the Christmas car show, and again in the summer for the Golden Tire Cup Championship.

Wooyoung lets go of him, nodding towards Minho as he takes off his sunglasses.

“Semifinals, huh?” He says, looking at him in awe. “You must have gotten a lot better since I last saw you.”

“My teacher was alright,” he sighs and shrugs, and you spray his face and walk off, leaving him dripping wet in favor of going to find Yeji.

“Now that, I did not see coming,” San whispers, dapping up Hyunjin as he approaches the latter’s Supra, now painted red to match his hair. “The last time I saw them, they hated each other.”

“Wouldn’t you feel the same way if you met your match?” Ryujin pipes up from the ground, tightening the nut on a wheel. “They both thought they were the best before Minho won Changbin’s car.”

“Minho did what?” He asks, eyes turning to saucers.

“Dude, let me tell you about what happened last summer…”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Hall of Fame ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Night is falling in the desert, but it’s never looked more awake.

Rows upon rows of cars line up on the dry earth, and photographers and gearheads alike gawk at the automobiles, snapping endless amounts of pictures and videos with their devices.

Further down the track a stage is set up, with some DJ working a growing crowd as they sip on whatever they can get their hands on.

You’re at the edge of the car show with Yeji, helping her ward off condescending men with boring car questions. Surely they must know that car enthusiasts don’t all have to be male.

Another one saunters up to the two of you, sizing you up with a stare that lingers just a little too long at your exposed midriff.

“And this is your car?” he asks, and in favor of keeping your team from being disqualified, you keep your arms folded tight against your chest.

“Yes, it’s-” Yeji stops you with a raised hand, looking up from inspecting her manicure and staring him dead in the eyes.

“It’s my 608 horsepower V8 engine 2015 Porsche 918 Spyder, why do you ask?” She asks sweetly, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him. He narrows his eyes and reluctantly walks away, realizing this wasn’t a fight he could win.

“Nice one,” you chuckle, right as your phone rings in your team jacket. You check the time and answer it, noting that it’s just after 8 pm before speaking.

“Hello?”

“Your boyfriend says to ‘get your ass over here’. The race is about to start,” Lia says, half drowned out by the crowd you’re sure is swarming there by now. You look at Yeji, who waves you off with a shake of her head.

“I think I can fend for myself,” she whispers, and you nod in response.

“I’ll be there in two minutes.”

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

You hear bets being made and taunts being thrown as you push your way through the crowd, making your way to the start of the track. Four cars of different makes, models, and colors sit at the starting line, with members of their respective teams standing near each one, buzzing with anticipation.

After showing the back of your jacket you get let onto the track, where at least half of your gang circles Minho, giving him some last words of advice and encouragement.

“Remember, the gas is on the right and the brakes are on the left,” Felix jokes.

“Oh oh, and your seatbelt,” Jeongin joins in, egging him on, “don’t wanna break the law, now do we?”

“Alright alright, knock it off you two,” Changbin laughs, then looks to the team’s resident mechanic.

Chan is silent for a moment, then puts a hand on Minho’s shoulder.

“You’ve got this,” he says quietly, and the team nods in agreement. “Be safe.”

You push your way into the circle, and Chan smiles at you before gesturing to everyone else.

“Let’s give them some space, yeah?” he says, and the group disperses, wishing safety and slapping Minho on the back before exiting the track.

The man of the hour turns to you as you step up to him, the shouts of the crowd fading into the background as you meet his eyes.

“How are you doing,” you whisper, flicking some sand off of his team jacket. He looks out at the crowd, drawing in a deep breath before looking down at you again.

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of losing,” he admits, running a hand through his black locks. “I don’t want to let everyone down, we’ve come so far-”

“Because of you, Minho,” you interrupt, pushing a pointed finger against his chest. “We only got this far because of you. We’ll be proud no matter what trophy you take home.”

The creases in his forehead ease at your words, and you take his gloved hand into yours.

“You’re not here to be the best; we already know you are,” you remind him, smiling. “You’re here to have fun. Winning would just be a nice bonus.”

“Oh yeah? And what happens if I win?” He grins, pulling your hand a bit closer as you chuckle at his forwardness.

“I can think of a couple things-”

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE TENTH ANNUAL GOLDEN TIRE CUP SEMIFINALS!”

The voice of the announcer booms over the speakers as a tall man with a silver microphone enters the track. You quickly leave a kiss against Minho’s cheek, then lean over to his ear.

“Come back to me in one piece,” you whisper, then squeeze his hand and run off the track.

“WE HAVE QUITE THE LINEUP FOR YOU TODAY, SO LET'S HEAR IT FOR OUR RACERS!”

The crowd erupts into cheers as each racer stands in front of their car, awaiting their introduction.

“FROM THE P1ECE PEDAL PUSHERS, HWANG INTAK!”

A guy with curly brown hair waves at the crowd, blowing kisses and causing several girls pushed up against the barricade to faint.

“FROM THE BLUE FLAMES, NAKAMURA KAZUHA!”

A Japanese chick with sick looking sunglasses does a small curtsy, and you scream along with the crowd, always excited to see other women excited about racing.

“FROM THE NEVER CRASHING TIRES, LEE JENO!”

A guy with snow white hair spells out his team’s acronym with his hands before waving, and you can hear his team start chanting from down the track.

“AND LAST BUT CERTAINLY NOT LEAST, FROM THE WOLFGANG, LEE MINHO!”

You and the gang howl as loud as you can as Minho turns around and points to his back, showing off the detailed wolf design on the back of his team leather jacket.

The four racers shake hands with each other before each getting into their cars, waving one last time at the crowd before shutting the doors.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Turn Back Time ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

If Minho really thinks about it, all races are the same.

The announcer had gone over the rules, and despite this not being his first race by a long shot, he assumes that anyone would have been able to guess them.

Three laps around the track.

No shortcuts.

Start at the sound of the gun.

Unlike NASCAR, foul play technically is allowed, but none of the teams that made it to the semifinals made it by playing dirty. It felt too much like cheating. That, and no one wanted to scratch their nice cars for a trophy if they didn’t have to.

Minho grips the wheel and closes his eyes as a girl wearing next to nothing struts out to the middle of the track, holding an air gun in her gloved hand.

Slowly, the sounds of the crowd roaring and his opponents cheekily revving their engines fade into the background, the world around him becoming more still as he goes to his happy place.

He opens his eyes again and he’s back, back in the passenger seat with you holding the steering wheel.

“What are you waiting for?” you say, giving him an annoyed side eye.

“Aren’t you going to tell me when to go?”

“Okay, go.”

“What-”

BANG!

“Go!”

Minho breaks out of his reverie and floors it, the racers doing the same as the crowd screams in delight.

“AND THEY’RE OFF!” The announcer booms, standing in a tower on the other side of the starting line as a black haired girl next to him waves a giant checkered flag. The cars zoom forward, getting smaller and smaller as they tear down the track. A tiny drone follows them, becoming a tiny red light flashing in the distance.

Minho grins, falling into the rhythm of upshifting like it’s an old song he loves.

The P1ECE’s car takes the lead, narrowly cutting corners while NCT’s car stays hot on its trail, not letting it get a lead. The Wolfgang’s car gives them their space as Blue Flame’s car stays next to it, hugging the inside of every curve.

One lap down, and Minho is cruising in third place as the cars zip past the finish line.

“IT REALLY IS ANYONE’S GAME FOLKS…”

Silently, you say a prayer as the cars disappear from view, the crowd going insane around you and your gang.

Inside the car, Minho is having a ball, treating the desert track as his own personal time trial as he and the others burn rubber, trading places around every turn.

He lets Kazuha’s car pass him as he eases up on the gas, enough to let her gain a small lead.

“What is he doing?!” An angry man yells, gripping onto the barrier as the cars fly past the start again, signaling the final lap. You assume he has money on the line as you smirk, knowing Minho’s real strategy.

“THERE GO THE RACERS AND- HOLD UP- LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, DO WE HAVE A DRIFT RACER?!”

The crowd becomes uncontrollable as they hear the announcer, seeing a small cloud of smoke go up from the edge of the track as Minho drifts around the first turn, not slowing down.

“That’s my boyfriend!” You point and scream, barely keeping yourself behind the barrier.

Minho spins the wheel left and right, howling inside of his car as it slides around every curve, leaving a smoky trail behind it. Threatened, the other racers speed up, attempting to widen the gap between him and them, but he’s gaining ground way too quickly.

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face if he wanted to. He’s having too much fun.

He hardly realizes there’s only thirty seconds left between him and the GT Cup Finale.

And then, on the final turn, the unthinkable happens.

Jeno’s car pulls away as something under Kazuha’s car explodes, and then starts smoking.

Minho watches as her car drifts into Intak’s, making them both turn sideways and start to block the inside of the turn.

Heart dropping, he realizes he won’t be able to clear the turn.

“Are you not going to slow down?!” He yells, frightened at the calmness in your voice.

“Why would I do that-”

“To keep us ALIVE?!” He screams, grabbing onto the middle console. “Because that’s how you handle turns?!”

No.

“This is how you handle a turn,” Minho whispers, and then taps on the break and spins his steering wheel to the right.

Up ahead, you feel yourself going lightheaded as you see the smoke start to build, blocking the rest of the track from view. Only the neon green NCT car was visible, blazing towards the finish line.

Next to you, Hyunjin goes pale, and you grip onto his arm, more to steady yourself than to comfort him as the crowd collectively holds their breath.

And then, the crowd explodes into cheers.

“RUN ME OVER AND CALL ME DINNER- WOLFGANG MAKES IT AROUND THE FINAL TURN!”

Minho flies around the corner, tires skidding against the ground while the car drifts before he steps on the gas again, emerging from the smoke. You scream, nearly shaking Hyunjin to death as you grip onto his jacket and watch the MR2 draw near to the finish line.

The girl next to the announcer wildly waves her checkered flag as the NCT car crosses the finish line, followed two seconds later by the Wolfgang car, before they both screech to a halt.

Minho throws the door open, nearly tripping over himself as he strains to see down the other end of the track, followed by Jeno.

A hush falls over the crowd as they wait in near silence, hoping to see anything other than smoke emerging from the two cars that fell behind.

In the red haze from their tail lights, one figure emerges.

Kazuha’s thumb shoots up from her body, carried in Intak’s arms as he walks them both towards the starting line.

“THEY’RE OKAY!” The announcer cheers, nearly dropping his binoculars as the crowd joins him.

Relieved, Minho's eyes search for yours before locking on them, barely having any time to react as you sprint across the track, and subsequently crash into him. The rest of the gang hops the barrier, whooping and hollering as they celebrate their finalist.

“I knew it, I knew you could do it,” you nearly sob, clutching onto his jacket.

“You saved my life,” he shudders, holding your shoulders tightly. “I would have crashed into them if you never taught me to drift.”

You don’t hesitate; you can’t. You throw your arms around his neck, pulling him in for the kiss he should have gotten before the race.

The crowd screams as he picks you up and spins the two of you, not caring one bit about who’s looking as he returns your embrace in earnest, smiling against your lips.

“GET A ROOM, WILL YOU?” The announcer laughs, walking up to the two of you and dragging Jeno with him. Minho chuckles and puts you down, and you catch a glimpse of the announcer’s mic, spelling Soobin in sparkly silver letters.

“EVERYONE, OUR GOLDEN TIRE CHAMPIONSHIP FINALISTS!”

Soobin takes Minho’s arm and raises it along with Jeno’s, and the crowd goes wild.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧ ♫- Be Free ‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

slowlee: come to the kitchen rq

You read the text and swipe away the notification, slipping the phone back into your jacket pocket.

“Glad to hear that no one got seriously injured,” the man you were talking to says, stepping back onto his motorbike. “Typically for people like us, crashes end up being way less epic.”

“Well I'm glad you haven't gotten into any,” you jest, waving to him and his crew before they roll off the driveway, their silver hexagonal logos glinting off their jackets in the moonlight.

You turn and walk back up to Changbin’s house, alive and overflowing with guests as the afterparty is in full swing.

Making your way through the crowded house, you dap up Hongjoong and a tipsy Mingi, do a shot with Chaeryeong and Yuna, and slide into the kitchen right as Minho picks up a brown bottle, instantly meeting your gaze.

“EVERYONE!” Minho yells, pouring a shot of whiskey into his cup before pulling you to his side. You try and fail to keep a grin from landing on your face.

“I’d like to make a toast,” he announces, surveying the room of members and supporters turning to face him and grinning. “To this team, for making it to the finals after four years!”

Whoops and whistles fly around the room.

“To Changbin, for helping me keep his old car in top condition so I don’t die on the road!”

A crazy sounding laugh comes from the man holding baby Chun Ja, complete with a mini racer jacket and red binkie.

“And to the rightful owner of his car,” he lowers his voice, face softening as he looks down at you.

“Minho,” you whisper, eyes widening as you stare up at him in shock.

“I want them to know,” he whispers back, hand squeezing your waist.

“For beating my ass by seven seconds in our duel last year,” he continues, and you watch as several members around the room blink and look at each other in confusion. Yeji and Hyunjin’s eyebrows shoot up simultaneously, and your best friend’s eyes meet yours, equally shocked. “And teaching me that there’s no point in being the best, if you’re not having fun with it.”

The room erupts into cheers as Minho raises his solo cup, and everyone follows suit, cups rising all around the kitchen. “Next stop, the Golden Tire Cup Finals!”

“Shit, I’ll drink to that,” Wooyoung laughs, before everyone throws their shots back.

As the party quickly resumes, you’re swarmed by some of the girls in the gang, bombarded with questions about the legendary duel that decided the fate of the club’s leader. Amongst the chaos, you lock eyes with Minho, who’s getting slapped on the back by Hyunjin while some other members tease him.

He mouths three words to you, and you swear you feel your whole soul light on fire.

You giggle, flaming red as you mouth them back.

I love you too.

After all, you should have known that after acquiring your heart, there’s only one thing he could do.

Burn it.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧

Burn It

a lixiesfreckles_ production

cast(in order of appearance)

Lee Minho as the finalist

Han Jisung as the baby mechanic

Kim Seungmin as the only one working

Jung Wooyoung as the old teammate

Seo Changbin as the host

Choi San as the one that's figuratively late to the party

Hwang Hyunjin as the drama

Shin Ryujin as the pit crew

Hwang Yeji as the one who knows her shit

Lia as the messenger

Lee Felix as thing 1

Yang Jeongin as thing 2

Bang Chan as the experienced mechanic

Choi Soobin as the mc

Hwang Intak as the heartthrob hero

Nakamura Kazuha as the victim

Lee Jeno as the neo one

Kim Hongjoong as the designated driver

Song Mingi as the passenger princess

Lee Chaeryeong as party girl 1

Shin Yuna as party girl 2

dedicated to everyone who read Punch It and demanded a book afterwards. it's never gonna happen, but the flattery stayed with me.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #skz #picu #lee know fanfic #lee minho fic #lee know #lee minho #lee minho fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids ff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #Spotify

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sunshinebuckybarnes · 7 months

Text

It's spooky szn bitches 🖤✨ but first here's my list of everything I read in September!

As always, please give these gorgeous writers all the love they deserve by reblogging their work. The majority of these stories contain 18+ content, please check all warnings, you are responsible for your own media consumption.

Happy reading ✨

Eddie Munson ✨

Much ado about books by @jobean12-blog

Eddie Munson x reader (Bookshop AU)

Runaways by @mypoisonedvine

eddie munson x reader

Diving deep / sinking beneath / further under by @sexyprise

Eddie Munson x Cheerleader!Reader

Bucky Barnes ✨

Be mine by @flordeamatista

dilf!bucky barnes x reader

Better than before by @angrythingstarlight

Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Starry starry night by @jobean12-blog

Bucky Barnes x reader

Crybaby by @syntheticavenger

Dad’s Best Friend CEO Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Ari Levinson ✨

To have and to fuck by @sweeterthanthis

Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Curtis Everett ✨

Bruised and broken by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Curtis x F!Reader

Branded by @stargazingfangirl18

Curtis Everett x Fem!Reader

Thor Odinson ✨

Don't go down to the woods tonight by @targaryenvampireslayer

Demon!Thor Odinson x female reader

Steve Rogers ✨

Marked by @syntheticavenger

Dark! Alpha Steve Rogers x Female Reader

All is fair by @sunflowersoldat

Mob!Steve x Assassin!Stark!reader

Love like a scar by @targaryenvampireslayer

Dark!WS Steve Rogers x female reader

His inheritance by @jtargaryen18

Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Joel Miller ✨

A sweeter place by @flordeamatista

neighbor!joel miller x reader

When we let go by @jobean12-blog

Joel Miller x reader

Lee Bodecker ✨

Layin' down the law by @lunarbuck

Lee Bodecker x f!reader

Aim, set, fire by @dreamlessinparis

Dark!Lee x F!Reader

Andy Barber ✨

The devil's masquerade by @jobean12-blog

Andy Barber x reader (Mafia/Vampire/Soft!Darkish AU)

Sam Wilson ✨

Touch me by @galatially

Sam Wilson x black!reader

Multiple characters ✨

The dinner guest by @labella420

Nomad!Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

The fuckboy committee by @kinanabinks

Fuckboy!Stucky x Reader

#fic rec #september fic rec #eddie munson #bucky barnes #ari levinson #curtis everett #thor odinson #steve rogers #joel miller #lee bodecker #andy barber #sam wilson #lloyd hansen

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layce2015 · 1 year

Text

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Croatoan

Masterlist

Dean walks down a dim hallway, grimly, turning towards a door and pulling out a gun. He slides out the clip, taps it on the gun, then replaces it. Inside the room, there is a Crater Lake poster on the wall. Below it is a young blond man, Duane, tied to a chair.

Nearby are a young woman, Pam, and her twin brother, Pete, a middle-aged woman, Dr. Lee, and a tough-looking black man, Mark, all standin around looking around nervously. Duane looks up as Dean opens the door and enters, raising the gun.

"No, no, no, no, no, you're not gonna...no, I swear! It's not in me!" Duane stammers, frantically. "Oh God." Pam said, fearfully. "We're all gonna die." Pete said, panicked. "Maybe he's tellin' the truth." Mark said as Dean advanced toward Duane, cocking his gun.

"He's not him, not anymore." Dean said. "No, stop it! Stop it! Ask her, ask the doctor! It's not in me!" Duane pleads, frantically. "I just...I can't tell." Lee said, unsure. "No, please, don't. Don't. I swear, I..." Duane pleads to Dean.

"I got no choice." Dean said and Duane starts sobbing. "I swear, it's not in me, it's not in me! Don't, don't. Please!" Duane pleads until Dean fires twice.

I had my head buried in my pillows, thinking that this would help with the pain in my head. I let out a pained groan when I heard something crash. I look up, slowly, to see that the lamp on the bed side table had knocked over and broke on the floor, somehow.

I look over at the other side of the bed and see that Sam was laying on the floor, groaning in pain. "Sam..." I whispered when I hear the the door open. I look up to see Dean had entered chewing on jerky and carrying a six-pack of beer.

He stops and looks at us as me and Sam sit up, panting. "Guys?" Dean asked, concerned. "No..." Sam whispers as I give a fearful look towards Dean.

Dean was driving while Sam was navigating with a GPS device, which speaks directions. "Continue on O-R Two-Two-Four West." The GPS said. "There are only two towns in the US named Rivergrove." Sam said.

"How come you guys are so sure it's the one in Oregon?" Dean asked as that Oregon poster pops up in my minds eye. "There was a picture. Crater Lake." I said and Sam nods. "She's right." He said.

"Okay, what else?" Dean asked. "I saw a dark room, some people, and a guy tied to a chair." Sam said. "Yeah, me too." I said. "And I ventilated him?" Dean asked. "Yeah. You thought there was something inside him." I said to him.

"What, a demon? Was he possessed?" He asked us. "I don't know." Sam and I said, in unison. "Well, all your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow....so was there any black smoke? Did we try to exorcise it?" Dean said.

"No." I said.

"Nothing, you just plugged him, that's it." Sam said.

"Well, I'm sure I had a good reason." Dean said. "I sure hope so." I muttered. "What does that mean?" Dean asked as he looks up at the rearview mirror at me but I don't reply to him.

"I mean, I'm not gonna waste an innocent man." Dean said and Sam and I raise an eyebrow at him. "I wouldn't!" Dean exclaims. "Never said you would!" Sam said to him. "Fine!" Dean yells. "Fine!" Sam shouts back at him and I sigh.

"Look, we don't know what it is. But whatever it is, that guy in the chair's a part of it. So let's find him, and see what's what." I said as I look between the boys. "Fine." Dean growls. "Fine." Sam and I said and we sit in silence as Dean continues driving down the road.

We pull into the town, passing a large billboard advertising Crater Lake. We pull up in front of a wooden shop; out front the older man from my vision is cleaning a rifle; he wears a short-sleeved blue shirt with a multi-pocket brown vest.

The boys and I get out and approach him. "Morning." Dean greets. "Good morning. Can I help you?" The man asked us. "Yeah." Dean said as he pulls out a badge. "Uh, Billy Gibbons, Frank Beard, Billy Ethridge. U.S. Marshals." Dean said and the man looks at us, confused.

"What's this about?" The man asked. "We're looking for someone." I said and Sam nods. "A young man, early twenties. He'd have a, a thin scar right below his hairline." Sam describes.

"What'd he do?" The man asked. "Well, nothing. We're actually looking for someone else, but we think this young man could help us." I said. "Yeah, he's not in any kind of trouble or anything; well, not yet." Dean said then he looks at the man's arm which had a distinctive tattoo. "I think maybe you know who he is...Master Sergeant." Dean said and the man gives him a curious look

"My dad was in the Corps, he was a Corporal." Dean replied. "What company?" The man asked. "Echo-2-1." Dean said and the man nods. "So can you help us?" I asked him. "Duane Tanner's got a scar like that. But I know him. Good kid, keeps his nose clean." He said after hesitating for a moment.

"Oh, I'm sure he does. Um. You know where he lives?" Dean asked. "With his family, up Aspen Way." The man replied. "Thank you." Dean said and we leave.

Across the street, Sam bumps into a telephone pole and glances at it in passing. He stops and stares at it. "Sam?" I said as I come up next to him to see a word is etched into the wooden pole.

CROATOAN

"Hey." I said to Dean answer he approaches it and looks at the word. "Croatoan?" Dean said, questioning. "Yeah." Sam said and Sam looks at him, blankly. "Roanoke? Lost colony? Ring a bell? Dean, did you pay any attention in history class?" Sam asked him. "Yeah! Shots heard 'round the world, How bills becomes laws..." Dean said and I give him a you serious? look.

"That's not school, that's Schoolhouse Rock." I said to him. "Whatever." Dean said, shrugging, and I sigh and shake my head. "Roanoke was one of the first English colonies in America, late 1500s." Sam said to him. "Oh yeah, yeah, I do remember that. The only thing they left behind was a single word carved in a tree. Croatoan." Dean said, nodding.

"Yeah. And I mean, there were theories — Indian raid, disease, but nobody knows what really happened. They were all just gone. I mean, wiped out overnight." I said. "You guys don't think that's what's going on here, I mean..." Dean said to us. "Whatever we saw in our head, it sure wasn't good. But what do you think could do that?" Sam asked him.

"Well, I mean, like I said, all of your weirdo visions are always tied to the Yellow-Eyed Demon somehow, so..." Dean said, shrugging. "We should get help. Bobby, uh, Ellen maybe?" I suggest to them. "Yeah, that's a good idea." Dean said and he pulls out his cell phone, then frowns at it.

"I don't have a signal." He said and Sam and I pull out our phones and I notice I have no signal either. "I don't either." Sam said and they look over at me. "That's a negative." I said and we walk to a pay phone, which Dean picks up then clicks the receiver several times.

"Line's dead." He said as he hangs up. "I'll tell you one thing. If I was gonna massacre a town, that'd be my first step." Dean said and we head back to the Impala.

We park outside a cabin--like house in the middle of nowhere, then we approach the front. By the door is a small, tacky plaque that reads BORN TO FISH; FORCED TO WORK. Sam knocks on the door, and a teenaged boy with dark spiked hair opens it.

"Yeah?" He asked and we flash out badge at him. "We're looking for Duane Tanner; he lives here, right?" Dean said. "Yeah, he's my brother." The boy said.

"Can we talk to him?" I asked him. "Oh, he's not here right now." The boy said. "Do you know where he is?" Dean asked. "Yeah, he went on a fishing trip up by Roslyn Lake." The boy replied.

"Your parents home?" Sam asked him. "Yeah, they're inside." The boy said as an older man's voice calls out to him. "Jake? Who is it?" The voice asked as an older man comes up to the door. "Hi, U.S. Marshals, sir, we're looking for your son Duane." Dean said to Mr Tanner. "Wh-why? He's not in trouble, is he?" Mr Tanner asked, worried.

"No, no, no, no. We just need to ask him a couple of routine questions, that's all." I said to him. "When's he due back from his trip?" Sam asked. "I'm not sure." Mr Tanner said. "Well, maybe your wife knows." I said. "No, I don't know, she's not here right now." Mr Tanner said and we give confused look towards him.

"Your son said she was." Dean said and Jake looks at us. "Did I?" He said, confused. "She's getting groceries. So, when Duane gets back, there's a number where he can get a hold of you?" Mr Tanner asked. "Oh no, we'll just check in with you later." Dean said and we turn and walk down the steps as the Tanners shut the door behind us.

"That was kind of creepy, right? A little too Stepford?" Dean asked us. "Big time." Sam said and I nodded. Looking furtively about, we sneak around to the back of the house, crouching below a window.

Inside, Mr Tanner comes out of the next room with a kitchen knife. Jake stands in front of his mother, who was tied up, and casually rolls up one sleeve. Mr Tanner cuts into his arm and lets the blood drip onto a wound in his wife's shoulder.

Immediately, the boys and I arm ourselves and kick down the back door. As we rush in, handguns raised, Mr Tanner rushes at us with a knife; Dean and I shoot him in the chest. Jake jumps out the window, shattering glass, and darts off into the woods. Sam aims at him through the window but hesitates, giving him time to get away.

Later, we drive up to the clinic and parked in front of the building. We get out of the car and Sam goes to help Mrs Tanner out and leads her to the door and I follow them while Dean opens the trunk. Inside, the clinic is quiet, dim, and empty.

"Hello? Hello?" I called out. "We need a doctor here!" Sam shouts then a young man and woman, who looked very similar in facial feature, rush out to us. "Mrs. Tanner, what happened?" The girl asked us. "She's been attacked." Sam replied and the man turns and yells. "Doctor Lee!"

Then a woman, Dr Lee, wearing a lab coat rushes in and sees Mrs Tanner. "Bring her in." She said and Sam nods. "Okay." He said and the man leads Sam and Mrs Tanner into a back room while Lee follows. Dean enters, carrying the canvas-covered body of Mr Tanner hoisted over his shoulders.

"Is that —" Lee started to ask until Dean speaks over her. "Mr. Tanner?" He said. "Was he attacked too?" Lee asked and Dean and I exchange a look. "Uh...no, actually, he did the attacking and then he got himself shot." I said as Dean nods. "Shot?" Lee exclaimed, shocked. "Yeah." Dean and I said.

"And who are you?" Lee asked Dean. "U.S. Marshal. I'd show you my badge, but uh..." Dean said as he gestures towards Mr Tanner's body. "I can vouch for him." I said as I hold up my badge and she looks at it then nods. "Bring him back here." Lee said and we head to the back room towards the lab.

Mrs Tanner was seated on a stool with her shirt off; Dr. Lee sits across from her, treating the wound on her left shoulder. "Wait, you said Jake helped him? Your son Jake?" Lee asked and Mrs Tanner nods. "They beat me. Tied me up." She said and the young woman and man, that greeted us, both shake their heads.

"I don't believe it." The woman said. "Me either." The man said. "Pam. Pete." Lee said to them, warningly, and they look at her and nod before Lee turns back to Mrs Tanner. "Beverly...do you have any idea why they would act this way? Any history of chemical dependency?" She asked. "No, of course not. I don't know why. One minute they were my husband and my son. And the next, they had the devil in them." Beverly said and the boys and I share a look at her last words.

"We gotta talk." Dean said to us and we exit the lab. "Those guys were whacked out of their gourds." Dean said. "What do you think? Multiple demons, mass possession?" Sam asked. "If it is a possession there could be more. I mean, God knows how many, it could be like a friggin' Shriner convention." I said and Sam sighs. "Great." He grumbles.

"Of course, that's one way to wipe out a town, you take it from the inside." Dean said and Sam shrugging. "I don't know, guys. We didn't see any of the demon smoke with Mr. Tanner, or any of the other usual signs." Sam said. "Well, whatever. Something turned him into a monster. And you know if you woulda taken out the other one there'd be one less to worry about." Dean growled at Sam.

"I'm sorry, all right? I hesitated, Dean, it was a kid!" Sam shouts. "No, it was an it. Not the best time for a bleeding heart, Sam." Dean growls. "Okay, enough boys!" I said just as Lee stalks out of the lab, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

"How's the patient?" I asked her. "Terrible! What the hell happened out there?" She exclaimed. "We don't know." Dean said. "Yeah? Well, you just killed my next door neighbor." Lee said. "We didn't have a choice." I said. "Maybe so, but we need the county Sheriff. I need the coroner..." Lee said.

"Phones are down." Sam said and she sighs. "I know, I tried. Tell me you have a police radio in the car?" Lee asked us. "Yeah we do. But it crapped out just like everything else." I said and Lee runs her hands over her face.

"I don't understand what is happening." She said, scared. "How far is it to the next town?" Dean asked her. "It's about forty miles down to Sidewinder." Lee replied. "All right, I'm gonna go down there, see if I can find some help." Dean said then he claps both mine and Sam on the shoulder. "My partners'll stick around, keep you guys safe." He said.

"Safe from what?" Lee asked. "We'll get back to you on that." Dean said and he starts to leave.

Later in the lab, I was leaning against a counter, staring at the body of Mr Tanner while Sam begins pacing. Lee was sitting on a stool, looking at something in a microscope. "Huh." She said, confused. "What?" Sam and I asked. "His lymphocyte percentage is pretty high. His body was fighting off a viral infection." Lee said.

"Really? What kind of virus?" Sam asked as I raise an eyebrow. "Can't say for sure." Lee said, shaking her head. "Do you think an infection could have made him act like that?" I asked her. "None that I've ever heard of. I mean, some can cause dementia, but not that kind of violence. And besides, I've never heard of one that did this to the blood." Lee said.

"Did what?" Sam asked. "There's this...weird residue. If I didn't know better I'd say it was sulfur." Lee said and my eyes widen. "Sulfur." Sam and I said and we exchange a worried look then we stare, intently, at Mrs Tanner, who is still huddled on the stool in the lab.

"I don't understand. Are you saying my husband and Jake had a disease?" She asked, tearfully. "That's what we're trying to find out. Now, during the attack, do you remember....did you have any direct contact with their blood?" Lee asked her. "Oh my God. You don't think I've got this virus, do you?" Mrs Tanner asked, frantically.

"Beverly, I don't know what to think. But with your permission, we'll take a blood sample." Lee said. Mrs Tanner nods and lays her hand gently on Lee's.

Suddenly she grabs Lee's wrist and yells in rage, lashing out with her other hand. I advance on her and she tosses me against a glass cabinet, which shatters. Sam goes towards her but she picks up a scalpel, then he takes a fire extinguisher from the wall. She advances on him, still yelling, and he knocks her out.

"You okay?" Sam asked after we take a moment. "Yeah." I said, nodding, as I get up.

Later, after locking Mrs Tanner in a closet, Lee begins to look through the microscope again. Pam and Pete were huddled against the far wall. "What if we all have it? What if we all go crazy?" Pete asked, nervously. "You've got to stay calm. All we can do is wait. The Marshal's bringing help." Lee said to them.

"I can't, I...I've got to go." Pam said, frantically. "Pam!" Lee shouts. "No, you don't understand. My boyfriend's out there, I gotta make sure he's okay." Pam said and she hurries out of the lab. "Pam!" Pete shouts and he follows her out then Sam and I follow them all the way to the lobby.

"All right, wait, wait. Please." Sam said to Pam, who turns to him. "Look, we know you're upset, all right? But it's safer if you stay here for now. Help is coming." I said to her just as we hear the Impala pull up outside.

"There they are." Sam said as I smile. "Sammy? (Y/n)? Open up!" Dean's voice calls out and we go to the front door and let Dean and the man, we first met in this town, in. Both of them were armed.

"Did you guys, uh, get to a phone?" Sam asked Dean. "Road block." Dean said to the man. "I'm gonna have a word. Doc's inside." He said and the man leaves and heads to the back.

"What's going on out there, Dean?" I asked him. "I don't know, I feel like Chuck Heston in the Omega Man, I mean, Sarge is the only sane person I could find. What are we dealing with, do you know?" Dean asked. "Yeah. Doc thinks it's a virus." Sam replied.

"Okay, great. What do you think?" Dean said. "I think she's right." I said and Sam nods. "Really?" Dean said. "Yeah. And we think the infected are trying to infect others with blood-to-blood contact. Oh, but it gets better. The uh, the virus? Leaves traces of sulfur in the blood." Sam said.

"A demonic virus?" Dean asked. "Yeah, more like demonic germ warfare. At least it explains why Sam and I have been having visions." I said. "It's like a Biblical plague." Dean said. "Yeah. You don't know how right you are, Dean." I said to him. "I've been poring through Dad's journal, found something about the Roanoke colony." Sam said.

"And?" Dean asked. "Dad always had a theory about Croatoan. He thought it was a demon's name. Sometimes known as Deva or sometimes Resheph. A demon of plague and pestilence." Sam explains. "Well, that, that's terrific." Dean said, sarcastically. "Why here, why now?"

"No idea. But Dean, who knows how far this thing can spread? We gotta get out of here, we gotta warn people." I said. "They've got one! In here!" The man's voice shouts and the boys and I exchange a look then head into the room.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked. "The wife. She's infected." I said to him. "We've gotta take care of this. We can't just leave her in there. My neighbors, they were strong. The longer we wait, the stronger she'll get." The man said as he gestures towards the door. Dean barely hesitates before pulling out his gun and stalking into the lab.

"You're gonna kill Beverly Tanner?" Pam said, confused, as we enter the lab. "Doctor, could there be any treatment? Some kind of cure for this?" Sam asked Lee. "Can you cure it?" Dean asked. "For God's sake, I don't even know what it is!" Lee exclaims.

"I told you, it's just a matter of time before she breaks through." The man said. "Just leave her in there, you can't shoot her like an animal!" Pete exclaims. "Sam. (Y/n)." Dean said and we go to the door of the utility room, where Mrs Tanner is being held.

Dean and the man hold their guns ready; Sam carefully opens the door, and the two men take up offensive positions. Inside, Mrs Tanner is huddled on the floor, knees drawn up. She jumps at their approach.

"Mark, what are you doing? Mark, it's...it's them! They locked me in here, they...they tried to kill me! They're infected, not me! Please, Mark! You've known me all your life! Please!" She pleads to the man, Mark, who shakes and on the verge of tears. "You guys sure she's one of 'em?" Dean asked me and Sam. We nod at him as Mark pulls back, near tears. Dean then steps forward and fires twice.

Mark peers through the shades on the window, cautiously. Meanwhile, Sam pulls out a hunting knife and checks the blade as Dean and I load a gun. In the lab, we hear a few things crash and break then Pam and Pete scream.

"Oh God! Is there any on me?" Pam shouts as we look over and see that they dropped some vials of blood. "Are we okay?" Pete asked as Lee looks them over. "You're clean, you guys are okay." She assures them. "Why are we staying here?" Pete asked, angrily. "Please, let's just go!" Pam said, tearfully. "No, we can't, because those things are everywhere." Dean said and Pam begins sinking down and Pete kneels down to his sister.

"Oh God...." She cries and Pete hugs his sister. "Hey, shh, shh." He assures her as Sam looks over at me and Dean. "She's right about one thing. We can't stay here. We've gotta get out of here, get to the Roadhouse? Somewhere. Let people know what's coming." Sam said, quietly. "Yeah, good point. Night of the Living Dead didn't exactly end pretty." Dean said.

"Well, I'm not sure we've got a choice. Lots of folks up here are good with rifles—even with all your hardware we're, we're easy targets. So unless you've got some explosives..." Mark said as Sam glances up at a shelf of medical supplies.

"We could make some." Sam said as he goes to the shelf and takes down a bottle of Potassium Chloride. Just then, someone starts pounding frantically on the front door and we run out.

"Hey! Let me in, let me in! Please!" A voice shouts, frantically. "It's Duane Tanner!" Mark said and he opens the door and lets Duane in. He has a backpack and is limping. "Thank God." Duane said, relived. "Duane, you okay?" Mark asked as Dean turns to me and Sam.

"That's the guy that I, uh..." Dean said then he clicks his tongue. "Yeah." Sam and I replied. "Who else is in here?" Duane asked as he starts to walk towards the back but Dean grabs his arm. "Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there, chief. Hey Doc! Give Duane a good once-over, would you?" Dean said and Lee nods as she leads us back to the lab.

"Pam? Pete?" Lee calls out as Duane looks at Dean. "Who are you?" He asked. "Never mind who I am." Dean said then he turns to Lee. "Doc." He said and Lee nods. "Yeah, okay." She said as she looks him over.

"Duane. Where you been?" Mark asked. "On a fishing trip up by Roslyn. I came back this afternoon. I...I saw Roger McGill being dragged out of his house by people we know! They started cutting him with knives! I ran, I've been hiding in the woods ever since." Duane said then he looks around at us. "Has anybody seen my mom and dad?" He asked and Dean turns to me and Sam, again.

"Awkward..." he said in an attempt joking tone.

Later, Duane was sitting on a stool, his left leg has a deep gash in it. "You're bleeding." Lee said. "Where'd you get that?" I asked him, nodding at his leg. "I was running, I must have tripped." He said. "Tie him up, there's rope in there." Dean said and Duane looks around in a panic.

"Wait..." he said but Dean pulls his gun on Duane. "Sit down!" Dean orders and Duane looks at Mark. "I'm sorry, Duane, he's right. We've gotta be careful." Mark said. "Careful? About what?" Duane asked.

"Did they bleed on you?" Dean asked him. "No, what the hell? No!" Duane exclaims. "Doc? Any way to know for sure, any test?" Sam asked Lee. "I've studied Beverly's bloodwork backwards and forwards." Lee said and Duane looks at her. "My mom!" He exclaims.

"It took three hours for the virus to incubate. The sulfur didn't appear in the blood until then, so...no, there'd be no way of knowing. Not until after Duane turns." Lee said and Sam looks over at Dean. "Dean, I gotta talk to you. Now." He said and Dean glances at Mark, who nods.

Then Sam gestures for me to follow them and we leave the lab. "This is our vision, Dean. It's happening." Sam said and I nod. "Yeah, I figured." Dean said. "You can't kill him, all right? Not yet. We don't know if he's infected or not." I said to Dean. "Well, I think we're pretty damn sure. Guy shows up out of nowhere, he's got a cut on his leg, his whole family's infected?" Dean said, suspiciously.

"All right, then we should keep him tied up, and we should wait and see." Sam said. "For what? For him to Hulk out and infect somebody else? No thanks, can't take that chance." Dean said and he starts to push past us, but Sam stops him with a hand on his chest.

"Hey look, man, I'm not happy about this, okay? But it's a tough job and you guys know that." Dean said to us. "It's supposed to be tough, Dean. We're supposed to struggle with this, that's the whole point." I said.

"What does that buy us?" Dean asked. "A clear conscience, for one!" Sam said. "Well, it's too late for that." Dean said and he starts to walk but Sam stops him again.

"What the hell's happened to you?" Sam asked him. "What?" Dean said. "You might kill an innocent man, and you don't even care! You don't act like yourself anymore, Dean." Sam said. "Hell, you know what? You're acting like one of those things out there." I exclaimed and Dean looks between us then he pushes past Sam a third time.

Sam tries to stop him again but Dean hurls him against the far wall. "What the hell?!" I said and I go and stand in front of Dean. "Stop!" I said. "(Y/n), don't make me hurt you." Dean warns me. "I'm not gonna let you hurt an innocent man." I said then he, quickly, grabs me and hurls me against the wall next to Sam.

He goes back into the hall and locks the door behind him. "Hey!" Sam and I shout as we rattled the lock. "Open the damn door, Dean!" I shouted. "Don't do it, Dean! Don't!" Sam shouts. We did this for a few minutes until we hear the lock unlock. We step back and see Dean standing there and I give him a worried look but he shakes his head at us and both Sam and I let out a sigh of relief.

Hours later, Sam, Dean and I were preparing explosives with rags and glass bottles when Lee enters, hands in her pockets. "It's been over four hours. Duane's blood is still clean. I don't think he's infected. I'd like to untie him, if that's all right." She said and the boys and I share a look. Sam and I nod and Dean lowers his head. "Sure. Yeah." Sam said and she leaves.

"You know we're gonna ask you why." I said to Dean. "Yeah, I know." He said. "So why? Why didn't you do it?" Sam asked and Dean glances at us the back at the bottles. "We need more alcohol." He said and Sam and I get up and go into the dispensary, where we find Pam and Pete already there.

"How you guys holding up?" I asked them. "Good." Pete said, nodding. "It'll all be over soon." Pam said as Sam and I go to a shelf and look through it.

"In fact, we've been waiting for this the whole time." Pete said and we turn to face them to see the door was shut behind them. "For what?" Sam asked them. "To get you two alone." Pam said then both of them lash out at us. Pam knocks Sam down and Pete knocks me down on the ground.

Pete straddles me and hits me, hard, across the face. I let out a groan as Pete pulls out a scalpel in one hand, which he slices across my chest and then across his own palm, placing his wound over mine.

Then I hear the door being kicked open then the three shoots. I look over and see Pam, who was on top of Sam, convulses and falls to the floor. Pete then turns, quickly, and he was shot three times as well and I see Dean and Mark at the door. Sam reaches out a hand to Dean, who starts to lean over to take it but Mark pulls him back.

"They bled on them. They've got the virus." Mark said and I place my hand on my chest and pull it back, realizing it's true. I look over at Sam, who had a scared look on his face, then we look at Dean, who just looked stunned.

Later, Sam and I were sitting on a couple of stools, a bandage pressed on our chest. I look down and could feel tears in my eyes as the others surround us, Dean pacing angrily. "Doc, check their wound again, would you?" Dean asked but no response.

"Doctor!" Dean shouts. "What's she need to examine them for? You saw what happened." Mark said to Dean as Lee comes up to me and Sam. "Did Pam's and Pete's blood actually enter your wounds?" She asked us.

"Come on, of course it did!" Mark shouts. "We don't know that for sure." Dean yells. "We can't take a chance." Duane said. "You know what we have to do." Mark said. "Nobody is shooting my brother and my gi...friend." Dean said and I give a look at this. "He isn't gonna be your brother much longer. And she's not gonna be your friend much longer either. You said it yourself." Duane said.

"Nobody is shooting anyone!" Dean shouts. "You were gonna shoot me!" Duane yells at him. "You don't shut your pie-hole, I still might!" Dean argues. "Dean, they're right. (Y/n) and I are infected; just give us the gun and we'll do it ourself." Sam said and I bite my lips and blink back tears.

"Forget it." Dean said, firmly. "Dean, we're not gonna become one of those things." I said to him. "Guys, we've still got some time..." Dean started to say until Mark talks over him. "Time for what? Look, I understand he's your brother and she's your friend, and I'm sorry, I am. But we gotta take care of this."

Mark then pulls out his handgun. "I'm gonna say this one time — you make a move on them, you'll be dead before you hit the ground. You understand me? I mean, do I make myself clear?!" Dean yells, angrily. "Then what are we supposed to do?!" Mark asked and Dean tosses Mark his keys.

"Get the hell out of here, that's what. Take my car. You've got the explosives, there's an arsenal in there. You two go with him. You've got enough firepower to handle anything now." Dean tells them. "What about you?" Mark asked him and Sam and I look up at Dean, who looks down then over at us.

"Dean, no." I said, shaking my head. "No. Go with them. This is your only chance!" Sam said to him. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easy." Dean said. "No, he's right. Come with us." Mark said but Dean doesn't move. "Okay, it's your funeral." Mark said and he leads Duane and Lee out the door.

"I'm sorry. Thanks for everything, Marshals." Lee said to us and Dean looks at her. "Oh, actually we're not really Marshals." Dean admits. "Um. Oh." Lee said, shocked then she leaves and Dean shuts the door behind her. He turns slowly to face us, and I close my eyes as some tears fall down my face.

"Wish we had a deck of cards, or a foosball table or something." Dean said, trying to lighten the mood. "Dean, don't do this. Just get the hell out of here." I plead to him as I look up at him. "No way." Dean said. "Give us my gun and leave." Sam said. "For the last time, guys. No." Dean said and Sam slams the table with his fist.

"This is the dumbest thing you've ever done." Sam said. "Oh, I don't know about that. Remember that waitress in Tampa?" Dean said and he shudders and I shake my head as I wipe the tears. "Dean, Sam and I are sick. It's over for us. It doesn't have to be for you." I said to him. "No?" Dean said. "No, you can keep going." Sam said.

"Who says I want to?" Dean asked and Sam and I give him confused looks. "What?" We asked as Dean crosses to the other wall and pulls a handgun out of his waistband before sitting on the file cabinet.

"I'm tired, guys. I'm tired of this job, this life...this weight on my shoulders, man. I'm tired of it." Dean said, dejectedly. "So what, so you're just going to give up? You're just gonna lay down and die?" I asked him and he looks down. "Look, Dean, I know this stuff with Dad has--" Sam started to say but Dean shakes his head. "You're wrong. It's not about Dad. I mean, part of it is, sure, but..." he stops and bites his lips.

"What is it about?" I asked him when we hear a noise outside; a moment later there's a knocking on the door. Dean picks up both handguns and we cross to it, Lee is standing there and Dean opens the door. "You'd better come see this." She said.

The five of us stand just outside the clinic; everything else in sight is deathly silent. "There's no one. Not anywhere. They've all just...vanished." Lee said as we look around in shock.

The next morning, Lee was looking through the microscope; Sam and I were seated on the exam table. "Well, it's been five hours and your blood's still clean. I don't understand it but I think you two dodged a bullet." Lee said to us. "But we were exposed." Sam said, confused. "Yeah...How could we not be infected?" I asked her. "I don't know. But you guys are just not. I mean, you compare it with the Tanner samples..." Lee said as she looks through another microscope.

"What the hell?" She said, shocked. "What?" Sam and I asked. "Their blood. There's no trace of the virus. No sulfur, nothing." She said and Sam and I share a confused look.

Later, Mark and Duane are loading up a truck while Lee stands in the doorway of the clinic. "Hey, the Sarge and I are getting the hell out of here, heading south. You should come." Duane said. "I'd better get over to Sidewinder, get the authorities up here. If they'll believe me. Take care." Lee said and Mark waves to her then to me and the boys, as we lean against the Impala.

"What about them?" Dean asked as he nods towards me and Sam. "They're going to be fine. No signs of infection." Lee said and she goes back inside as Mark and Duane pull away in the truck. Dean turns to me and Sam. "Hey man, don't look at me. I got no clue." Sam said and I shrug. "Same here." I said and Dean sighs.

"I swear, I'm gonna lose sleep over this one. I mean, why here, why now? And where the hell did everybody go? It's like they just friggin' melted." Dean said, frustrated. "Why were we immune?" I asked. "Yeah. You know what? That's a good question. You know, I'm already starting to feel like this is the one that got away?" Dean said and we get in the car and pull away from town.

Later, we were parked by the side of a road, overlooking a river, the three of us leaning against a fence, drinking beer. "So. Last night. You want to tell us what the hell you were talking about?" Sam asked him. "What do you mean?" Dean asked, playing dumb.

"What does he mean? I mean you said you were tired of the job. And that it wasn't just because of John." I said to him. "Forget it." Dean said, waving vaguely. "No, I can't. No way." Sam said. "Yeah, neither can I." I said. "Come on guys, I thought we were going to die, you guys can't hold that over me." Dean said.

"No, no, no, no. You can't pull that crap with us, man. You're talking." Sam said. "And what if I don't?" Dean asked. "Then I guess we'll just have to keep asking until you do." I said, shrugging.

"I don't know, guys. I just think maybe we ought to...go to the Grand Canyon." Dean said, ignoring our question. "What?" Sam and I asked. "Yeah, you know, all this driving back and forth across country, you know I've never been to the Grand Canyon? Or we could go to T.J. Or Hollywood, see if we can bang Lindsey Lohan." Dean said and I raise an eyebrow.

"You're not making any sense." I said to him. "I just think we should take a break from all this. Why do we gotta get stuck with all the responsibility, you know? Why can't we live life a little bit?" Dean asked us.

"Why are you saying all this?" Sam asked and Dean shakes his head, turning away.

"No, no, no, no, Dean. You're my brother, all right? So whatever weight you're carrying, let me and (y/n) help a little bit." Sam said to him. "I can't. I promised." Dean said.

"Who?" I asked.

"Dad." Dean replied.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked him as Dean looks down. "Right before Dad died, he told me something." Dean said and he takes a breath then looks at us. "He told me something about you two." He said. "What?" Sam asked but Dean doesn't say anything.

"Dean, what did he tell you?" I asked him and he looks at us.

79 notes · View notes

castielli · 2 years

Text

How to request:

Send your request featuring the character you want, the plot (+ANGST, FLUFF…) and anything I need to know about the reader.

MASTERLISTS:

MOVIES/TV SHOWS

KDRAMA/KPOP

OCs PROFILE:

@nathan-ocs

Fandoms I write for under the cut!

——————————————

NCIS

Timothy McGee

Jimmy Palmer

Nicholas Torres

CRIMINAL MINDS

Spencer Reid

Penelope Garcia (platonic🫶)

Luke Alvez

CALL OF DUTY (MW/WWII)

John Price

Soap MacTavish

Ghost Riley

Gaz Garrick

Alex Keller

Alejandro Vargas

Phillip Graves

Vladimir Makarov

Rudy Parra

Red Daniels

William Pierson

Joseph Turner

Robert Zussman

Frank Aiello

Drew Stiles

SHAMELESS

Ian Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Lip Gallagher

Mickey Milkovich

Kevin Ball

THE WALKING DEAD (+TELLTALE GAME)

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Glenn Rhee

Negan Smith

Shane Walsh

Lee Everett

Kenny

Doug

Mark

STRANGER THINGS

Steve Harrington

Billy Hargrove

Robin Buckley (platonic)

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper

Jonathan Byers

Peter/001

Jason Carver

Dimitri

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY (I still need to finish the last season😊)

Viktor Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Number Five

Luther Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves

SUPERNATURAL

Dean Winchester

Sam Winchester

Castiel

Crowley

Bobby (platonic)

Chuck

NOW YOU SEE ME

Jack Wilder

J. Daniel Atlas

Merritt McKinney

Dylan Rhodes

Chase McKinney

MARVEL (Avengers/X-men)

Wanda Maximoff

Tony Stark

Bruce Banner

Thor Odinson

Loki Laufeyson

Steve Rogers

Stephen Strange

Peter Parker (Tom/Andrew/Tobey)

Clint Barton

Deadpool

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Peter Quill

Quentin Beck/Mysterio

Eddie Brock/Venom

Druig

Ikaris

Charles Xavier

Erik Lehnsherr

Peter Maximoff

Wolverine

Scott Summers

Hank McCoy

Bobby Drake

Alex Summers

Phil Coulson

Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockey

Scott Lang

Pietro Maximoff

Mobius M. Mobius

Matt Murdock

Shang-chi

STAR WARS

Anakin Skywalker

Luke Skywalker

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Kylo Ren

Poe Dameron

Finn

TEEN WOLF

Stiles Stilinski

Scott McCall

Derek Hale

Isaac Lahey

Jackson Whittemore

Peter Hale

Theo Raeken

Liam Dunbar

Jordan Parrish

Mason Hewitt

Danny Mahealani

Aiden Steiner

Ethan Steiner

Corey Bryant

THE BOYS IN THE BAND

Bernard

Harold

Hank

Donald

Cowboy

Alan McCarthy

Michael

Larry

Emory

WHITE COLLAR

Neal Caffrey

Peter Burke

Mozzie (platonic)

Clinton Jones

DIVERGENT

Peter

Caleb Prior

Four

HARRY POTTER

Neville Longbottom

Sirius Black

Cedric Diggory

Seamus Finnigan

Viktor Krum

Remus Lupin

Draco Malfoy

Tom Riddle

Charlie Weasley

Fred Weasley

George Weasley

Percy Weasley

Ron Weasley

Oliver Wood

FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM

Gellert Grindelwald (Mads Mikkelsen)

Newt Scamander

Credence Barebone

Theseus Scamander

Albus Dumbledore (Jude Law)

HUNGER GAMES

Peeta Mellark

Coriolanus Snow

Sejanus Plinth

MAZE RUNNER

Newt

Thomas

Gally

Minho

911 (and LONE STAR)

Evan Buckley (Buck)

Howie Han (Chimney)

Bobby Nash

Eddie Diaz

TK Strand

Carlos Reyes

Paul Strickland

Owen Strand

Jud Ryder

Mateo Chavez

RIVERDALE

Jughead Jones

FP Jones

Archie Andrews

Hiram Lodge

Sweet Pea

Fangs

Kevin Keller

Reggie Mantle

Chic

Moose Mason

BROOKLYN99

Jake Peralta

Terry Jeffords

All the others (platonic only)

CHRISTIAN BALE

Patrick Bateman (American Psycho)

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

PEDRO PASCAL

Joel Miller (TLOU)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Javi Gutierrez (The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent)

Javier Peña (Narcos)

Oberyn Martell (Game of Thrones)

Agent Whiskey (Kingsman)

Silva (Strange Way of Life)

Francisco Morales (Triple Frontier)

Marcus Moreno (We Can Be Heroes)

Dieter Bravo (The Bubble)

DETROIT BECOME HUMAN

Connor

RK900

Hank

Markus

Luther

Simon

Gavin

Josh

BARBIE

Ken (Ryan)

Ken (Simu)

Allan

SHERLOCK

Sherlock Holmes

John Watson

Jim Moriarty

Mycroft Holmes

FNAF (movie)

Mike Schmidt

Steve Raglan

SUITS

Harvey Specter

Mike Ross

LA CASA DE PAPEL

El Profesor

Berlín

Palermo

Denver

Río

I WON’T WRITE:

-Smut (for anyone)

-R*pe

-Female readers/GN readers

-Suic*de

-inc*st

-Crossdressing

-Romantic/Suggestive stories for underage characters (only platonic, basically)

If the character you wanted to request is not on the list, you can try and ask me anyways.

276 notes · View notes

sungbeam · 2 years

Note

hi can you do mark lee with female reader and it’s frenemies to lovers? thank yu

𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝟳𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴

baseball player!mark x school journalist!reader

1.1k words, frenemies-ish to lovers-ish

a/n: i kinda really loved writing this 0_0 ty for ur request!!

"Hey, LN!" You barely slowed your walk to allow Mark Lee to fall into step beside you. He was holding a familiar school newspaper in his hand, with his leather mitt tucked under one arm. He was still wearing his striped jersey with the name LEE printed on the back in bold, black letters. "We need to talk."

"What about?" You asked airily, pretending to be innocent. You knew exactly what he was itching to talk to you about.

He nearly shoved the front page of the paper in your face. There was a large front cover action shot of him on the baseball field, a cute little smile on his face as he was mid-run. You thought it was a good photo of him. "What the hell is this?"

You scoffed and shoved the paper away from your face. "That's you, idiot. Self obsessed much?"

Mark rolled his eyes and continued to walk beside you down the hallway. The two of you were headed in the same direction for third period anyway. "Dude. The headline literally says 'Lets Play Ball!—Except, Can Lee Actually Play?' I mean, come on, that's just foul."

"Ha, foul." At Mark's deadpan, you cleared your throat. "Look, Mark. I don't write the headlines—"

"Yn, you're literally chief editor."

"—And I also have a lot of responsibilities regarding my specific section as well!" You walked backward toward your classroom door, shrugging helplessly. "You'll just have to live with it, I guess."

"Hey! We're not done here—!" Mark shouted after you as you slipped into your classroom, leaving him in the hallway with his disapproved headline. He might not have been done, but you definitely were. Sorry, Mark.

Na Jaemin was one of the most persuasive people you had ever met. And you knew that was safe to say because you were an immovable force. That was one of the many reasons why you were elected to a leadership position in the newspaper world—because you wouldn't be a pushover. Even if one of your friends wanted a changed headline. Cough.

But if Na Jaemin wanted to drag you to a school baseball game on one of your only free Friday nights, you would have no other choice but to let him. (Even if you had already covered the baseball team in last week's issue.) You had an idea as to who got Jaemin to do this for him, and it only got you wondering as to what Mark Lee had on Jaemin to make this favor happen.

You and Jaemin slid into the bleacher seats just as the national anthem had just finished being sung. The Neo City High School baseball team was lined up along the edge of the diamond by home plate, with this evening's opponents lined up on the opposite edge. Mark was easy to spot with his recently dyed electric blue hair that blew gently in the cool night breeze.

There was a distinct sharpness to his gaze, however, one that you were used to, but never at this intensity. Your eyes scanned the bleachers—right behind home plate sat three or four men with differing colored windbreakers and clipboards in their hands, all looking upon the players.

A thought occurred to you. Oh my god. These were university scouts.

No wonder Jaemin was so insistent on you coming. And why Mark might want you to see tonight's game in particular tonight. He usually played his best, but tonight, he would play like he was never going to be able to play again.

By the seventh inning stretch, you had a mouthful of words you wanted to say to Minhyung Lee. He was jogging over to the dugout to grab his bottle of water, and you slipped over the bleachers to meet him at the fence.

"Hey!"

Mark's head lifted and his eyes met yours. His forehead and bangs were matted in sweat, but he was aglow with fiery determination. "Hey. You came."

"Why don't you play like that every time?" He had been incredible on the field—every time he batted, he sent the ball sailing toward outer field effortlessly. Even on offense, he either caught the ball first try or made the fast pass over to a base to get the opposing player out. He was a maniac of a player out there, and you were suddenly embarrassed by your critiques in your previous issue.

And you never got embarrassed.

His brows furrowed. "The hell? What do you mean?"

You placed your hands on your hips. "Dude, you were going insane out there! That was literally the best I've ever seen baseball played ever. Like, where the hell did that even come from?"

"Heh, ever?" A stupidly boyish smirk fell over his lips and you nearly rolled his eyes. "Where are these compliments coming from, hm? What'd you do to Ln Yn?"

Now you really rolled your eyes. "I'm capable of complimenting people." Just not saying them to people's faces.

He leaned toward the fence, toward you, wagging his eyebrows. "Prove it."

"I just gave you, like, three earlier!" You protested dumbly.

"I don't seem to recall," he drawled, tapping his chin in mock thoughtfulness. "I think I'm gonna need an instant replay."

You deadpanned, lightly punching the fencing. "Whatever. Go play some more or something; you have to earn your compliments, Lee."

He opened his mouth to reply, but a shrill whistle pierced through the air to signal to the players the end of the rest time. Doyoung called Mark's name from somewhere within the dugout, and you subconsciously noted how cute he looked perking up at the sound of his name.

Mark swallowed the rest of the water in his bottle and sent you a side smile. "Thanks for coming, Yn. Seriously."

You paused, not expecting this kind of sentiment from him.

"But then again, I knew you couldn't resist coming to see me play again."

Aaaand there it was. You rolled your eyes again. "I've rescinded my compliments."

Mark's chuckle made your stomach flutter and your cheeks warm as you turned your back to him to start climbing back up the bleachers.

"Hey wait!"

You stopped, shooting him a confused look over your shoulder.

Mark was beaming up at you. "If I win this, go out with me."

You blinked. "You're up thirteen points, and it's the seventh inning—"

"Then meet me outside the locker room?"

Something about his twinkling eyes and his smooth words sent your heart into a frenzy. You could only nod your head, and watch as he jogged away with a content grin. Suffice to say, that you met him outside the locker room after the game, and the next issue of the school newspaper was headlined with a Mark-approved "Mark Lee Stays Winning".

nct m.list

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join my permanent nct taglist here

#nct x reader #mark x reader #mark lee x reader #nct mark lee #mark lee fluff #nct fluff #nct oneshots #mark lee oneshot #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream oneshots

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xiaojunsdiary · 1 year

Text

introduction !!

my name is jack!!

18 (minors DNI w/ posts labeled NSFW)

i go by he/they

i’ll post male or they/them reader x idol fanfics

i’ll take requests too!!

i am trans (ftm)

i’m black <3

my ults: jungkook, san, felix, mark lee, taehyun, hoshi, jiung)

things i’ll write:

• fluff

• slight angst

• smut (not full on yet because i need more practice but in the future ofc!)

i’ll pretty much write anything as long as it’s in my ability. and as long as it’s legal!! please be patient tho as i’m still a student and have depressive episodes sometimes so </3

i’m sorry i don’t write for female readers for pretty much one reason: we lack stories for gender nonconforming or male readers.

feel free to ask any questions!! please share this post if you want too.

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ddemonseonghwa · 2 years

Text

Red Fire |SPOILER|

Tattoo Artist Changbin x Female Reader (NSFW)

WC: 1,536

Warning(s): Changbin getting flustered/aroused by the reader (because she so mothafuckin foine), mentions of smut (dirty thoughts), I think that’s it.

I named her Rin! Everyone say hi to Rin! **I will fix the format and tagging issues soon!! Uploading on Tumblr via Safari is a fucking pain.**

Likes are appreciated, but reblogs and comments are much more appreciated. 💕

Rude and disrespectful comments will be deleted and you will be blocked. 🌸

“I’m here for my appointment.” Rin said, her smile big and strong under her mask. Chan looked up from the front desk he was sitting at, looking up at Rin with wide eyes. “Oh, hey, Rin! You’re here really early. What kind of appointment are you here for?” Chan asked, opening up the book and flipping pages in attempt to look for her name.

“Tattoo appointment!” She replied. Chan flipped to the appointments section of the book and looked on the list of names for that day. Following the list of names, he found hers almost instantly. “Ah! You’re here to get your tattoo done with…” he trailed off as he looked to see who she was assigned to.

“Seo Changbin!” She finished for him. “Alrighty, and you’re getting a sleeve tattoo, right?” He asked as he marked by her name to show she was present for the appointment. “Yes I am. He told me that it’s best if we split it into two weeks given the tattoo that we agreed on and the placements. I think he said the other ones will take less time.” She told him. Chan nodded as he looked up at her.

“Yes! That is correct! He showed me what you’re getting. Your sleeve tattoo has a lot of detail. With the flowers, the clock and the beads, there’s lots of shading going on. And especially for the flowers, the roses, there’s different shades of pink that are involved, so it’s best to spread the sessions out for two weeks. For the tattoo under the breasts, that one also has lots of shading. For the tattoo on the sternum, that will take literally less than 10 minutes. But I think you picked the right time because he doesn’t have a client for about a month. You’re his only client for this month, so if you’d rather stretch it to have different sessions throughout this whole month, that’s up to you and you’ll negotiate that with him as well.” Chan explained to her.

“I think I might have to! But I’m ready for it!” She said. “Let’s see, you already filled out your paperwork, you’ve paid for your tattoos last month, I think you’re all ready for the first session today. Let me go let Changbin know you’re here and then we’ll go from there. You’ve got your snacks?” Chan asked as he looked back at her from the opening of the desk.

“Yes! I’ve got my snacks! Some food I brought from home along with some fruit, and then I brought water and lemonade. I also have my AirPods. Changbin told me to bring a small blanket just in case so I have this throw blanket. It’s the warmest light blanket from my house.” She explained.

“Perfect! I’ll go ahead and let him know you’re here!” He replied as he walked towards the back. Rin took a seat on the black suede couch in the lobby, waiting for Changbin to come up front to greet her. While scrolling through her phone, Lee Know walked through he lobby, catching a glimpse of her on his way out.

“Oh, hi, Rin! You’re here for your session with Changbin today?” He asked. She looked up to meet his eyes. “Yup. It’s gonna be a long session today so I brought a good portion of snacks and drinks.” She told him. “Good idea. These sessions can get quite lengthy so it’s good to have food and drinks with you while you’re getting tatted.” He smiled at her.

“Are you leaving already? You don’t have any clients today?” She asked as she watched him walk towards the door. “Oh, no, I have some clients. Just a couple of piercings. I had a good night sleep but accidentally woke up late and rushed to get here on time so I didn’t have breakfast at all. So I’m going to Starbucks to get a sausage egg and cheddar sandwich with an iced caramel frappe.” He explained to her. “That’s fair. Be safe. See you when you get back.” She told him, which he returned the phrase before heading out.

“Rin?” A voice called. She looked up from her phone to see Changbin standing by the desk. She stood right up and walked over to him. “Are you ready?” He asked her. She nodded, showing him what she brought. “I have food, drinks, my AirPods, my charger, and a blanket. Just like you told me.” She said excitedly. Changbin smiled under his mask and opened the way for her. “Perfect! Follow me!”

He led her to his room, which was not too far from the front. Considering that the building was pretty large, everyone had their own rooms and they were large on their own. The building even contained a second floor for the other tattoo artists and piercers upstairs with Kim Hongjoong as their manager. But on the first floor was Chan’s team with their rooms.

Changbin’s room was past Chan’s room and Lee Know’s room. In it, he had a lot of art and decorations on the walls in dark colors. He had LED lights and various other pieces of decor, just genuine things that made her comfortable to be in his room. Once inside he closed the door and locked it. It was necessary considering she’d be getting her chest tattooed.

“Alright, would you like to start on the sternum tattoos or the sleeve first?” He asked as he made sure he picked the right colored ink. “I’ll go with the sternum tattoos first since they’re a little easier.” She said. “Okay. Go ahead and remove your shirt and bra so I can get the stencil on there and start tattooing. You can set your shirt and bra on the back table if you’d like. I’ll be patient and turn around so you can do so. Let me know when you’re ready.” He kindly instructed. “Will do.”

Rin set her stuff down and took a deep breath before lifting her shirt. She pulled it off and set it neatly on top of the table and then followed with removing her bra and setting it in the same place on top of her shirt. She held her breasts by covering her nipples and then turned to Changbin. “I’m ready.”

Changbin slowly turned around, getting the materials for the stencil ready. He looked at Rin, seeing her figure from head to toe. Rin stood in front of him in her lounge shorts and no shirt or bra on. She was running her hand through her long black hair with the hand that wasn’t holding her breasts and looking off into the distance With the hand that was holding her breasts, it was doing its best to cover her nipples given how big her boobs were. That alone was difficult for Changbin to let go of. But looking at her just standing there holding her boobs, running her hands through her hair, curvaceous and petite figure from working out and all, pretty face and everything, it was having an impact on Changbin.

Not to mention her thick and fit legs and her ass. How much he wanted to do so many things to her that were unprofessional. He couldn’t deny that he had thoughts of his head between those legs treating her right even before this session. He definitely did. Before today, he thought of sitting her on the chair in his room, spreading her legs, and making her feel so good. He knew he could make her scream. His head was filled with so many filthy things before today. Could he blame himself, though? Rin was hot. Long black hair, soft and clear skin, plump rosy pink lips, a cute nose, lovely cheekbones, thick eyebrows, big and pretty brown eyes, and a jawline to die for in a woman. Adding her septum and nostril piercing, plus her tongue piercing when it was seen, she was exactly what a lot of men would die for in a woman. Coupled with how good and kind of a person she was, she was exactly what Seo Changbin would die for in a woman.

“Alright, if you could just go ahead and lie down on the chair. I lowered and adjusted it so I could get the stencil on properly. I’m going to firmly press it onto you and make sure it all gets on there, and then I’m gonna peel it off and have you confirm that it’s right where you want it. I’m gonna do this for the under boob tattoo on the sternum, and then the sternum tattoo that’s going between your boobs. Once you confirm that it’s exactly where you want it, I’m gonna stick some pasties on your nipples to cover them while I work so that I don’t brush up against them. Since your boobs are big, I might need you to hold them a little bit so that they’re not in the way while I work. We’ll get those stencils on first, confirm it’s where you want it, and then we’ll get started, okay?” He watched her nod and get situated on the chair.

‘Oh, god…. She’s truly going to be the death of me…’

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Tag List: @captainhongjoongwriter @mingis-conspiracy-theories @spiderlilyfics @eternalmingki

#stray kids #stray kids smut #stray kids bang chan #stray kids lee know #stray kids changbin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids jisung #stray kids felix #stray kids seungmin #stray kids jeongin #underworldnet #stray kids fanfic #skz #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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wildsyde · 2 years

Text

*Pairing: Mark x black female reader

*Genre/Content Warnings: College AU, One night stand, drinking game, exhibitionism, friends with benefits, smut without plot

*Word count: 4,018

*Prompts: N/A

*Author’s Note: Mark and the reader are fully sober! Also this is my third Y/N fic so I hope y’all enjoy! Italics indicate inner thoughts. Let’s get to the good stuff!

Living in off campus housing comes with perks; one of which is currently underway right now. A small-ish get together is taking place at your house and you were fine for the first half hour, but now that the get together is dragging on, you find yourself moving away from the gathering to hide out in the kitchen.

Just for a few minutes, you tell yourself. However, as you hear the laughter becoming more raucous, the ”few minutes” stretch into fifteen and your roommate is now staggering into the kitchen with an alcohol soaked grin plastered on her face that you know spells disaster for you.

“Not interested,” you say before she even has a chance to try and rope you into whatever half baked game they’re playing

“Why are you so boring Y/N?!” She whines as she stumbles forward, throwing her arms around your neck. “You always say no without giving me a chance to try and convince you.”

You roll your eyes as you steady her on her feet. “Last time I said yes, we wound up drunk between classes and nearly being placed on academic probation because someone,” you stress, “cannot hold their liquor.”

“I resent that accusation,” she mumbles, “but, hear me out right quick.”

Resigned to whatever fate is about to throw your way, you sigh softly, “It’s never ‘right quick’ but go ahead.”

“Bet! Okay, so like, you remember Jaehyun, right?”

You shift underneath the weight of her arms, gently placing her against the counter and taking a step back to lean against the one adjacent to her. “Mhm. The one you’ve been going on about for the past two months. Your ‘not’ boyfriend.”

“Yeah, him. Anyways, he’s here and we’re trying to—“

You hold your hand up, interrupting what you know will be an explicit description of something you are definitely not interested in hearing. “Spare me the details of your love life. I already hear way more than I’d like.”

She laughs, nodding her head absently, and continues, “Well, he brought a friend and I gotta say, if my hands, mouth, and—“

“—If I say I’ll make nice with his friend will you stop sharing too much information about your man who is not your man?”

“First of all, fuck you,” she laughs. “And second of all, yes.”

You huff a loud sigh that’s just on the other side of exaggerated before agreeing. “Fine. But, I’m not sleeping with him.”

She rolls her eyes and purses her lips together before muttering, “Okay.” A bit more loudly, she states, “We’re in the middle of a drinking game. He seems pretty disinterested and has been asking when they’re leaving so just—,” she stops talking and gestures towards you, “—do what you do Y/N.”

Your eyebrow quirks as you question, “And what is it I do?”

“Fuck if I know!” She happily quips as she grabs your wrist and drags you back to the living room.

Several people are still there, a couple from the frat that Jaehyun and, you’re assuming his friend, belong to. Empty beer bottles and red solo cups are strewn across the living room floor. Some of the guests are already halfway to passed out on the sofas while the rest are seated in a semi circle on the floor. You nod in Jaehyun’s general direction and upon your acknowledgment he gives your roommate a knowing glance before turning his face to smile up at you.

“Y/N, meet Mark. Mark, meet Y/N.”

Usually, whenever your roommate draws you into something that results in you having to babysit her latest conquests friends, you humor them. However, Mark is just your type and from the way she’s throwing her elbow into your side, your roommate is fully aware of that.

“See! I told you!” She hisses. To which you turn your head and snap,

“You didn’t tell me shit.” Turning back to Jaehyun and Mark you muster up a shy smile. “Nice to meet you, Mark.”

His eyes light up as he sees you, the dark irises doing a quick once over as he takes in your shapely frame. “Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

Jaehyun, obviously taking a page from your roommates book, hisses the same thing to Mark, “See! I told you!”

“You told him, what exactly?” Your roommate asks as she settles on the floor next to her “not man”.

Jaehyun just smiles as he throws an arm over her shoulder, pulling her in to his side as he kisses her forehead. “Nothing. Should we start the game again or just have Y/N join?”

“She can join. I’m already hella tipsy and if we start over again…” she trails off to whisper in Jaehyun’s ear, resulting in his cheeks turning a bright shade of red before he nods vigorously as he rushes out,

“Yeah. Just join in. The game is ‘Never have I ever’. You know how to play, right Y/N?”

You stop the sarcastic quip and eye roll you feel coming on, but Mark is quick to speak for you with an equally (if not more) stinging amount of sarcasm.

“Since when did never have I ever become a strategic game, Jae? Do we need to pause to put our heads together to figure out how to take down the competition?”

You snort, a little too loudly for your first time meeting someone, but he stares up at you with a broad grin and you barely hear him whisper, “cute” before Jaehyun launches into a quick explanation.

“Take a drink if you HAVE done the thing.”

Your roommate cuts in, “That’s why I’m tipsy.”

“Because you’re an easy lay?” You ask sweetly.

“Who says this game is sexual?” She pouts.

You and Mark share a look before you both burst out laughing.

“Too easy,” he chuckles as he shakes his head.

“Kinda like her!”

“Hey! I’m right here?!”

“We know,” Mark cheerfully replies.

You can’t help but giggle as you settle in the semi circle. You sit next to him, close enough for your knees to brush if you move.

Not me feeling scandalous over knees touching. How long has it been since I’ve been la—

Your thoughts are interrupted as Mark asks, “Can I get you a drink? We have cheap beer, cheap vodka, and…” he trails off, squinting a bit as he takes stock of the alcohol, “even cheaper beer.”

“Hmm,” you hum softly as you feign contemplation. “I’ll take a cheap beer.”

“Lucky for you, that’s on tap.” He winks as he hands you a can.

You open your mouth to respond, but your roommate’s loud voice cuts off whatever response you could have had. “If this is flirting, this is just sad.”

Known for being slightly petty, and already irritated with her, you start the game with a bang. “Never have I ever fucked two guys, on separate occasions, in the same night.” Your smile is small (and petty… did you mention petty?) as she frowns and takes a drink.

“That’s how you want to do me? Say less, Y/N. Never have I ever had sex at church.”

Jaehyun loudly gasps and you can feel the slow turn of Mark’s head as he stares at you. However, because it’s you, you ignore them to take a drink.

“We aren’t just going to breeze past that are we?” Jungwoo asks as he sits up on his knees. “There’s a juicy story there and I, for one, would like to hear it.”

Your roommate answers, “A lady doesn’t suck dick in the confessional and tell. Right Y/N?”

You cut your eyes in her direction, already ready to fire off the perfect follow up question but Jaehyun cuts in.

“Never have I ever had a one night stand in a club restroom.”

“You suck, man,” Mark mumbles as he takes a drink. Now it’s your turn to stare at him, your interest piqued. “I can explain,” he starts, but he stops as you raise your can of beer to your lips and take a swallow. His eyebrows climb up his forehead as he watches your throat bob. “Oh?”

“Mmm,” you hum softly. “Who’s next?”

Jungwoo’s hand flies in the air. “Me! I’ll go. Never have I ever fucked someone in this room.” It’s an easy out and the people groan as they sip from their cups—everyone but you and Mark.

“Nice,” he whispers.

Johnny pulls himself away from the girl he’s with to slur out, “Never have I ever wanted to fuck while people are watching.”

You groan inwardly as you take another swallow from your drink, but notice Mark doing the same and now it’s your turn to whisper, “Nice.”

The game goes on in a similar fashion with each person purposely trying to get their friend out, until your roommate loudly exclaims, “If I drink anymore I will pass out and I refuse to pass out before he fucks me at least twice. We’re done.”

Jaehyun nods in agreement as she stands, following suit and yelling out over his shoulder, “You’re on your own. Have fun!”

The game dies down as those that can drive leave, citing an early class tomorrow. The others that can’t are suspended in that murky space of too tipsy and half asleep so that pretty much leaves you and Mark alone and questionably sober.

You pierce the awkward silence by putting your foot in your mouth. “You seem so vanilla.”

“And since when is that a bad thing?” Mark fires back immediately.

Heat creeps into your face as you try to find a suitable, and less humiliating response, but…you can’t. “It’s not, you just don’t seem like the type to—,”

“—Get mediocre head in a club bathroom?”

“Ye—mediocre?!” You cover your mouth as you laugh, apologizing in between snorts.

“Or the type to have an exhibition kink?”

“You definitely don’t seem the type to have that.”

“Neither do you, Y/N, but looks can be deceiving.”

Maybe it’s the beer or the fact that Mark is devastatingly handsome and has somehow gradually gotten comfortable enough that his hand has been on your knee the entirety of your side conversation, but you find yourself leaning into his coquettish behavior and asking,

“What do I look like?” And when he answers, you choke, on absolutely nothing, your stomach tightening as his fingers flex around your knee.

“You look like the type of person I’d love to watch fall apart on my fingers,” he casually responds.

“Holy—what?” You manage to squeak out.

He hums softly as he leans in to whisper, “Shh. Do you want to wake up the others?”

You did not, but your incredulity keeps you from lowering your voice further. “You can’t just say something like that.”

“Would you rather I show you, instead Y/N?”

God yes.

You stare blankly at him for a few seconds, watching as his confidence begins to slip. Before it’s gone entirely you heatedly whisper, “Yes. But not here.”

“Now who’s vanilla?” He retorts.

“Oh fuck you,” you jokingly fire back.

“I’ve been trying to get you to for the past ten minutes…”

“Well then stop talking so much and kis—,” his free hand coming up to grip the nape of your neck and pull you in for a kiss, cuts you off, leaving your body flooding with heat as he parts your lips with the tip of his tongue. His other hand moves from your knee to your upper thigh, squeezing with enough pressure to have you whimper softly. He smiles against your mouth, fully enjoying the way you’re responding to him. His hand seeks out the heat between your legs, fingers dancing over the denim covering your crotch. Your thighs snap closed around his hand and he breaks the kiss, pulling away with a facetious smirk.

“Scared you’ll be too loud and we’ll get caught?”

Yes.

“No. I just…I’ve never done this with other people in the room.”

Mark pulls back, his head tilted to the side as he studies you. “We can stop, if you’d like.”

“No!” You loudly rush out. His muted laughter causes your cheeks to redden as you try to save face. “I mean,” you whisper, “just don’t be so loud.”

He arches an eyebrow as he looks over at you. “Do you have something else in mind I can do with my mouth?”

To quell the growing arousal you’re experiencing, you attempt sarcasm. “Are you always this eager to sleep with strangers?” His honesty only serves to make your stomach dip and cause you to swallow thickly.

“Only when the ‘stranger’ in question looks like you, Y/N.”

After that, you cannot possibly try to rationalize not giving Mark a chance. He’s fine as fuck, hilarious, sarcastic, and currently looking at you as if he wants to savor every bit of your body.

You start to unzip your jeans, shimmying them down your full hips. “If we get caught—,”

“—Don’t be noisy—,”

“—You say shit like you want to watch me fall apart on your fingers and then follow it up with, ’don’t be noisy’?”

“I mean, if you want an audience, Johnny admitted he’s into voyeurism,” Mark replies softly, biting his bottom lip as he watches you stand to pull off your jeans.

“Shh,” you hush him, that being the only response you have in your mind as you notice the tent beginning to form in his pants. He makes no move to hide it as his eyes trail up your thick thighs to zero in on the black lace covering your pussy. You hook your thumbs in the waistband of your panties and he stops you.

“In the off chance someone does wake up, how can we possibly explain your nudity from the waist down? Panties stay on.”

“How is that the hottest thing you’ve said all night?” You groan softly, but you comply, lowering your body to your hands and knees as you crawl over to him.

“Wait, wait,” he hisses. “Do that again.”

“Crawl?”

“Mhm, but slower.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as you oblige, standing up again and stepping back to allow more space for you to slowly crawl towards him.

You can’t help but suck in a sharp breath as he palms his dick over his jeans as he watches you with rapt attention. Your body responds to his siren call, your pussy already wet and nipples hard and sensitive without him barely having touched you. You briefly experience the fleeting thought of, this one is dangerous, but all mental faculties shut down the minute he unzips his jeans to pull his length free. “Oh.”

He reaches out for you, pulling you forward to close the gap, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that absconds with your breath. He pulls you into his lap, situating your legs around his hips, and without being prompted, you’re moving your panties to the side.

“I said I wanted to watch you fall apart on my fingers first,” he laughs softly, the sound dipping into a mixture of a startled gasp and low moan as you wrap your hand around the base of his dick.

“And I was game before you showed me something much better,” your breath hitches in your chest as you lift your hips, guiding the head of his dick between your slick lips to lightly brush against your sensitive clit. His moan is low as you tease your entrance with his head, your hand coming up to grip his shoulder as you slowly lower yourself onto his length.

That first twinge of pain with the stretch of him filling you is enough to have you both gasping for breath and you don’t stop, lowering yourself completely onto his dick until your hips are flush and you’re both panting.

His fingers flex around your hip, squeezing as he slowly pulls your hips forward as he canters his up, swearing softly as your walls reflexively tighten around him. The rush of doing this, of having him deep inside of you while others are merely a few inches away, has your senses heightened and every time he rolls his hips or pulls you forward to grind against him, strangled gasps and moans tumble end over end from your lips.

Mark controls your movements, thanks to the firm grip he now has on your ass cheeks. His thrusts are shallow as he pulls you forward and the motion of his hips, coupled with the friction of your panties against your clit has you digging your nails into his arms as you fight to gain control of an impending orgasm.

“Wait, wait,” you heatedly whisper and luckily for you, he listens, his brows meeting in the middle as a small frown creases his face.

His arousal has dropped his voice nearly an octave and the close proximity has you feeling the rumble in his chest as he asks, a little too loudly, “Are you okay?”

Your lips part to answer “yes”, but as you do, Johnny stirs in his sleep, mumbling something nonsensical. Your heart drops to your stomach as your pulse quickens. However, Mark groans, low and loud and you clap your hand over his mouth as his eyes roll shut.

“Are you crazy?!” You hiss through your clenched jaw. “He almost woke up!” He doesn’t answer you, not at first at least. His grip tightens on your ass and his thrusts become more forceful, bouncing you in his lap as he locks eyes with you, his eyes heavily hooded and pupils blown wide. Your mouth falls open and your back arches, your hips seemingly moving of their own volition as you attempt to match his pace. He pulls you flush against his body and moves your hand to whisper in your ear,

“I felt you tighten around me when you thought he woke up. You’re dripping wet right now. Do you want to get caught?” All the while, he keeps up a steady pace, his hips faltering slightly as your breath hitches in your lungs. “I would love to hear you, Y/N. I bet you sound so pretty when you cum. Fuck.”

You reach over to cover his mouth again, knowing how his words are affecting you. You can barely maintain control—the tightly coiled tension in your lower abdomen is rapidly unspooling as your body temperature rises—and somehow you’re aware of the fact that he knows this. He grabs your wrist, preventing you from covering his mouth and instead, he intertwines your fingers, the pressure increasing as his rhythm becomes choppy. Your eyes flutter shut and now you’re squeezing his hand just as tightly as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting down hard as the thin wire snaps, sending a rush of wetness from between your legs and a strangled, muted cry filling the quiet space. Your walls contract around him, milking his dick through your orgasm.

“Movemovemove,” he rushes out as he lifts your hips, pulling you completely up from his lap. Mark barely has enough time to lift his shirt out of the way before he’s painting his stomach in sticky ropes of white, panting loudly as he releases. “Oh my god,” he exhales softly.

You settle next to him, your breathing uneven as your chest rises and falls with each ragged inhale and exhale. “Shh, Shh.” You weakly gesture to the sleeping guests before you succumb to the post sex bliss. You fall onto your back, your body trembling from the small aftershocks of a powerful orgasm.

The quiet is comfortable and neither of you want to disturb it, but you know it’s only a matter of time before someone wakes up, and the thrill of being caught is only a thrill when Mark is inside of you. Silently, you pull yourself up on your feet and reach out for him. He looks up at you, slightly perplexed but when you mouth “bathroom”, he nods. On shaky legs, you guide him to the restroom and just as you turn your back to go back to the living room for your pants, his hand closes around your arm and he’s tugging you in for a chaste kiss.

Mark whispers, “I’ll be gone when Jaehyun is done.”

“You know they’re both knocked out and neither of them will wake up any time before noon, right?” You stare up at him, an eyebrow quirked as you lean against the door jamb.

He drags a hand through his hair as he sighs heavily. “I guess I can call a cab?”

“Or, or…” you trail off, blushing profusely as you lower your eyes to the floor. “You can just…stay the night?”

“But Johnny and Jungwoo are asleep on the—oh.”

“Oh.” You chance a glance at him through your lashes and can’t fight the small smile that blossoms on your lips as you see his eyes light up.

“Cool. Yeah. That’s fine. Let me just—,” Mark gestures behind him and you nod.

“Yeah, I have to go grab my pants. Gotta hide the evidence,” you chuckle. You turn your back to him again to leave, but he stops you.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You slowly turn around. “Mhm?”

His smile is beautiful, dimples fully on display as he replies, “Thanks.”

___________________________________

“Alright y’all!” Your roommate bellows. “You know the rules! If you’ve done the thing, you drink!”

It’s been about a month since…well, the incident…and you and Mark have been quietly hooking up every chance you get. However, this information has stayed between just you both and when you’re around your friends, you keep a healthy amount of distance between the two of you. Even now, as you’re seated in the semi circle, drink in hand, he’s close enough to reach out and touch, but far enough away to where you’d have to lean in to do so. You both do your best to keep conversation friendly and touching minimal, seeing as how the facade is that you both only met that one night and haven’t met subsequently. Why you’re hiding your situationship, who knows?

But it’s something that you both agreed upon.

For the greater good.

Which is really just so Jaehyun and your roommate don’t make things weird.

Jaehyun goes first, his voice interrupting your thoughts as a small chuckle precedes his statement, “Never have I ever hooked up at a small party.”

You drink, suspicions not raised as you watch everyone else take a drink.

Jungwoo smiles, a facetious thing that lights his face up and makes his eyes sparkle. “Never have I ever had sex while people watched.”

Your eyes narrow imperceptibly and Mark coughs lightly, but neither of you drink.

“Mmm I guess some of us are lying,” Johnny quips.

You cut your eyes at him, your eyebrow arching as you say slowly, “Okay…” and when he, Jungwoo, Jaehyun, and your roommate all share the same shit eating grin, you know…

“Never have I ever,” Johnny starts, with a smile on his face, “Had sex in this living room while Jungwoo and I were trying to sleep on the couch.”

Your eyes open wide as your mouth falls open and you try to cover, spluttering loudly as you attempt to find the words to deny this attack. Mark, on the other hand, is as red as the cup he’s drinking from. “You couldn’t lie?!” You stare over at him, incredulous.

Your roommate interrupts a brewing argument to state, “Never have I ever hooked up with someone in this room for a month and hid it.”

“I swear to god if you lift that cup I’m smacking it out of your hand Mark Lee,” you whisper loudly at him.

He turns to face you, a cheeky smile on his face as he slowly drinks. True to your word, you knock the cup out of his hand, which sends everyone into a fit of laughter.

“I hate this game,” you pout, but as Mark throws an arm over your shoulder to pull you into his side, you don’t fight the smile that belies your statement.

Never Have I Ever

#Mark Lee x reader #Mark Lee x y/n #Mark Lee x black female reader #nct mark

84 notes · View notes

ncttytrack · 2 years

Text

Yes, Mr. Lee (m)

Preview: When you were getting a new English teacher, you didn’t know that it was going to be Mark Lee, your older brother’s best friend and your childhood crush.

Genre: smut,smut,smut,smut,smut

Pairing: Teacher! Mark Lee x Student! Female reader

Words: 6,8k

Warnings: smut, age gap (only 3 years, everyone is legal), teacher x studant relationship, dom!Mark, sub!reader, teasing, unprotected sex, thigh riding, Mark Lee’s big cock

ʚ .·:*¨༺♡༻¨*:·. ɞ ʚ .·:*¨༺♡༻¨*:·. ɞ ʚ .·:*¨༺♡

The time is 09:00 on a Wednesday Morning and you are sitting in your classroom waiting for your first lesson to start. You were never a morning person, always sleeping the first 30 minutes of the first lesson every day. The first times it happened, your teacher, Teayong, tried to talk to you and said that it’s not good if you sleep in the classroom, if you want to have good grades in his class. You, obviously not caring, didn’t listen to your teacher and still, until this day slept through your first lesson in school. Taeyong doesn't even care anymore, it seems like you were fine with just having a simple -F- in his class. English is a stupid school subject anyway, and it’s just so boring.

Normally this is the situation you would be in right now. Your head on your desk, and your eyes closed, while Mr. Taeyong did a stupid presentation about a subject you simply didn’t care about. But not today. Today was different.

Teayong wasn't going to be the person teaching your Friday morning class in English this week. Or any other week in five months prior. Last week Teayong decided that teaching wasn't really a part of his big dream, and decided that he wanted to start a singing career instead, so you will be getting a new teacher in English. Not only a new normal teacher, but a rumor is going around school saying that a new, hot and young English teacher will start teaching at your high school. And you weren't going to miss the opportunity to see who this new teacher will be. Now, obviosly the tought of having a secret relationship with a teacher is fucking disgusting, even if he is hot or not, so the fun part will simply be watching everyone else swoon over this new teacher that you will soon know the name of.

While having all of these thoughts in your brian, waiting for the already popular English teacher to enter your classroom, you hear a knock on the door. It’s very quiet in the classroom, so everyone can hear the knock and turn their heads towards the door. It's then an average tall looking boy, just a few years older than you, walks into your classroom and you can’t help it but think that he looks familiar. It’s something about his black slicked back hair, and the smile on his lips that feels familiar to you. Not only that, but he has his ears pierced and he is wearing a shirt with a black tie and black pants. The outfit makes him look very handsome and dare you say it - hot, making the rumors about this new teacher true. You can't help it but feel a little bit defeated by the fact that you were one of the many females that also thought the new English teacher was hot, making you no different from the other girls at your school. But still, it’s something about him that seemed so familiar, like if you had already seen him before, a long time ago.

Suddanly the new teacher stands in the front of the classroom, takes out a whiteboard pen and begins to write his name on the whiteboard behind him.

“Hello everyone! My name is Mark Lee and I will be your new English teacher for the upcoming five months!” That’s when you recognise the man in front of you. Mark Lee. Your older brother’s, Lucas, best friend.

Your brother is only three years older than you, and so is Mark. Wow, can people so young teach a bunch of eighteen year olds at a highschool? That is just a recipe for disaster. You don’t remember Mark that much from your childhood, because he was always out with Lucas and doing god knows what, while you were inside doing stuff you liked. It were times you were allowed to be with Lucas and Mark on a few of their *erm* adventures, but those times you were too embarrassed to speak to Mark, only laughing at his jokes and greeting him by your front door, before he ran up to Lucas to play video games on his computer. You did always have a little crush on Mark, something only Luces knew. It was kinda obvious.

Him being your new, hot and young English teacher and at the same time your brother's best friend was just too good to be true, like a bad written fanfiction. The scenario, him being your teacher and your older brother's best friend, just made him look even hotter. It was a while ago you two met each other, because your brother left for university and doesn't live at home anymore. You hope that he still remembers you, so you can brag to your friends that your new hot English teacher they probably have a crush on, knows who you are already. But you also hope that he doesn't remember you because it’s kinda embarrassing. What if he remembered all the embarrassing stuff you did when you were younger, like falling off the tree you were climbing or you accidentally tripping while running super fast, making you fall on a big water puddle, making you very dirty. Omg, now you have to call him Mr. Lee! That's so weird, what if you accidentally call him Mark in front of the class? That would be so embarrassing.

“I have already mailed you guys the course plan for this term to your emails, I want you to pick up your computers and look at it please.”

While all of Mr. Lee’s new students pick up their computers from their bags, Mark looks around the classroom until his eyes land on you. He watches as your hair is wrapped up in a ponytail and how your cheeks are flushed, as if you were embarrassed over something. For a second he caught you looking at him, before looking back at your computer screen.

Wait is that? Wong Lucas sister? What was her name again? y/n? I didn’t know that she went to this school.

You see that Mark, or now, Mr. Lee is watching you and you begin to silently panic, feeling you sweat under the tight sweater you are wearing. Why is he looking at me? Does he remember me? Or worse, did Taeyong snitch and told Mark that you were one of his trouble-students that Mark had to look over? If that's the case, then this is going to be the worst five months of your life.

Too busy sulking and wondering why your new teacher is watching you so intensely, you didn’t realize that the lesson had ended already. You look around the classroom and see that all the other students are putting their stuff in their school bag and walking out of the classroom. Eager to leave this hell hole you quickly stand up from your desk and begin to pack your stuff until you hear Mr. Lee speak up.

“Ms. Wong, I would like you to stay after class for a while. We need to talk about your, erm, sleeping habits”

Motherfucker. Taeyong really did snitch on your ass to your new teacher. Even though it technically is a teacher's job to look after his students you were still kinda pissed at him. You let out a big sigh, wait for all the students in the classroom to leave, until you walk to your new teacher while giving him an awkward smile, signalating him that you really didn’t want to be in this situation.

You stand in front of a sitting Mark and you can’t help but stare at him a little. He is leaning back towards the chair he is sitting on and his legs are far apart from each other, which makes it really hard for you to not want to sit on him. He is fiddling with a pen between his two fingers in his right hand and his head is tilted to the side. He obviously knows that he is hot and he obviously remembers you and he obviously knew you had a crush on him when you were little. Otherwise, he wouldn't act this cocky around you, only on the first day you meet each other after 3 years.

“It seems like you had been acting badly Ms.Wong, your last teacher said that you had a problem concentrating on the English lessons in the mornings. Is that something I should be concerned about?” He asks with his eyes looking at you up and down. Wow, you had really grown up since the last time he saw you. Your figure is a lot more mature now and your clothing much more lady-like.

“Excuse me? Ms. Wong? Don’t act like you don’t remember me Mark, you know, y/n, Lucas Wong’s sister?” you say a little upset. So he doesn't remember you?

“Its Mr. Lee now y/n, don’t call me by my first name at work. Shouldn't you give your new teacher some respect? You can’t be that stupid, that’s not how I remebered you” he says with a teasing smile, knowing you hated to be called stupid, because Lucas always called you that.

“Hey! Don’t call me fucking stuped Mark! Just because I’m bored by just the thought of your stupid subject dosen’t mean im stupid!” you say to him with a loud voice. And before you can count to three. Mark has stood up, his height making him tower over you, and is now looking down at you with dark eyes. His right hand had dropped his pencil to the floor and is now holding your jaw, making you look up at him in a submissive manner.

Omgomgomgomg. Your childhood crush is holding your face and you can feel his breath hitting your skin. You are so close to each other, making your thighs clench together.

When the thought that your childhood crush is holding your face disappears, and the thought that your new teacher is doing it, makes you want to jerk away from him. Isn’t it illegal to be this close to a teacher, even though you are practically the same age.

“Watch your tone y/n, I’m your teacher and you should show your respect to me” he says and looks at you up and down, noticing the way your thighs are clenched together, you obviously enjoying the way he is holding your jaw this close to you. He lets out a low chuckle that sends a shiver down your spine and straight to your core. “And don’t act like I didn’t know that you had the biggest crush on me growing up, Lucas has told me everything. Just look at the effect I’m having on you”

Lucas I will kill you after this.

You try to act surprised, maybe if you lie and tell him that it wasn't true, then he could leave you alone. “Wasn't the reason why you wanted to talk to me because of my bad concentration skills and not the lie Lucas has told you? Me having a crush on you is just not true. Nope. Never.”

He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head back. He can’t believe that you were lying. And that you were just so bad at it. He gets an idea and lifts his other hand and places it on your waist, making you jump, his thumb massaging the side of your stomach.

“So, you are saying that me doing this to you doesn't affect you?” he bites his lips trying to hold in his laugh, loving how your cheeks are now redder than ever and how your mouth is gaping.

What was his deal? Why was he doing this? He never acted like this when you were younger so why was he suddenly flirting with you?

You try to look as tough as possible and give him a grin. “Nope, not at all!”

He tilts his head to the side and moves his head slowly towards you. “Not even now?”, he says and looks down at you.

You try your best to not panic by the fact that Mark fucking Lee (and your teacher, gross) is being this close to you right now. “Not. a. single. bit. affected.” you say with a semi determined voice. Your lips are barely touching now when he speaks up again.

“So, does that mean that by the end of two months of me teaching your class, you will not get the desire for me to fuck you?” he says teasingly, already knowing the answer to his question.

Is this a challenge Mr Mark Lee? Well bring it on.

This time, to his surprise, it is you who brings your face closer to his. “I’m 100% sure, Mark. I’m so sure that I will make a fucking bet on it. If I win, by not falling for you in five months, then I can sleep on your lessons as much as I want!”

Your lips are so close to touching, that with the slightest form of movement would make you kiss each other. Marks hold on your jaw tightens, reminding you both which one is really in control.

“Well, if I win, then you need to be your best self in my lessons. Listening to everything I have to say, being my good girl”. Ignoring the effect the pet name had on you, you roll your eyes and look at him.

“Deal. I am so going to win, Mark” you say and grab his wrist with your hand, trying to loosen up the grib he has on you. He pulls his hand from your jaw and sits down on his chair again. Spreading his legs apart and adjusting himself on his seat. Goddamn. This is going to be really hard to resist.

“Oh but I am going to win y/n. You were the one crushing on me, remember?” He says. You look at him and pick up your bag lying on the floor and you let out a huff.

“That is so not true” you say as you are walking out of the classroom and Mark lets out a small laugh.

“Yeah, right. And also, y/n,” he says, making you turn around and look at him.

“In the classroom it’s Mr. Lee. You wouldn't want me to spank you in front of the whole class, would ya? If you are not into that of course” he says with the fattest grin on his face, while rubbing a ruler with his hands that was before lying on his desk.

Without answering him, you turn around, and leave the classroom. Jerk. You have to win this bet.

—---------------------------------------------------

It has already been one month since you and Mark made that stupid bet, and you have to be honest, it’s pretty easy so far. Mark hasn't really tried to seduce you the way you thought he would, so you are pretty sure you will be getting a lot of sleep after these two months. But, it was one time he really caught you off guard.

It was already one day after he agreed to your bet and apparently you had English that day. In front of the whole class, while doing a presentation about different English accents or something (you didn’t really remember), he looks at you and slowly begins to loosen up his tie. You know, in that hot, sexy, mafia boss way. And then, if that wasn't enough, he slowly folded the arms of his shirt up, so you could get a perfect view of his defined arms.

That, plus the fact that he was looking directly at you the whole time, made your stomach tingle. But, the thing that made it even more embarrassing was the fact that you couldn't handle it, and instead of looking back at him, and rolling your eyes or something, you looked down at your desk.

Down. At. Your. Desk.

Can you be more obvious?

But now everything is chill, you are sure of it. Until you got home.

As soon as you walk through the front door of your house a big man is hugging you, tight. “Surprise y/n! Are you happy to see me?” No. Oh no. Lucas is home. Which means-

“Oh hello y/n! It’s so weird to see you when we are not in a classroom!” Mark is also here. Shit.

You try not to look at Mark for more than five seconds, but the way he looks makes it impossible for you. In school he is often wearing proper clothes, in other words, a button up shirt with a black tie and a pair of suit pants. You can’t lie, that outfit makes him look really hot, but this just hits different. He is wearing a white well fitted t-shirt with a pair of semi tight ripped black pants. Holy fuck. And to top it all off, he is wearing a silver necklace, silver studs and silver rings. He is wearing rings.

Why did Lucas have to come home right now? Couldn't he wait for another month before he stepped his large foot into your calm house and bringing the fucking rat with him? You look at Mark and give him a fake smile, trying to act as normal as possible when you are in front of your big brother.

“Lucas… what are you doing here? I thought you would come next month” you say and hug him back awkwardly. You love your brother, but right now is not the best time for him to come home. He stops hugging you and looks down at you.

“Yes, but I missed you so much that I decided to leave early. Oh and you probably already noticed it but I told Mark that I would be coming home today, so that’s why he is here. He told me that he was your teacher now at school and that you were a really good student! Isn’t that fun!” Lucas says with a big smile on his face. If he only knew the things happening between you and Mark.

You give him a fake smile “Yes, soooo, fun!”, you say and look behind him, noticing Mark is tilting his head to the side and poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek. Fuck he looks really hot. No! He is not the regular Mark anymore! He is your teacher! Don’t forget about the bet! Think y/n, think! You mentally curse yourself, before Lucas leaves your side, going upstairs to his room. Screaming after Mark to follow him upstairs so they can play video games on his computer.

But Mark isn’t going after Lucas, instead he is walking towards you, making you step back until your back is hitting the wall behind you. Mark's hands are placed on the wall behind you, caging you in, making it impossible for you to escape. His face is super close to yours and you can’t help but look down, making him grab your jaw for the second time this month, all for you to look up at him. He licks his lips and looks down at you. When will you break?

“You really thought that I was going to let you win this bet y/n? Did it never cross your mind that I was planning something like this?”

You look up at him, and see how fun he thinks this is. It was already a month ago you made the bet, but you had still not figured out why he agreed to this bet, that was first a joke on your side. First you thought that he maybe also liked you when you were younger, but he never showed any sign of it, so it would be weird if that was the reason. Maybe guys have a problem showing their emotions?

“Why do you want to do this Mark? I don’t understand why you agreed to this stupid bet! It’s so weird”

Mark down at you, “It’s because I love how you react. The fact that I can just look at you for more than five seconds, loosen up my tie or fold up the arms of my shirt to make you all worked up. To make you blush or to make you look away from me, I love it. And the fact that I had known you since you were little, plus your cute little crush on me, just makes it a whole lot better. It wasn't that hard for me to figure it out, you were kinda obvious about it. And I have always dreamt of the day when I can tease you about it.”

You look up at him, with wide eyes. He can’t be serious. When he told you that Lucas told him that you had a crush on him, you thought that he ment Lucas told him recently. But no. Apparently Lucas told Mark a long time ago, just in the beginning of their friendship.

Lucas is sooo dead. You try your best to look uninterested, as if your inner twelve year old self is not screaming right now.

“Well, the last part about me having a crush on you is just not true. Lucas is just a lying little bitch!”

Suddenly you feel Mark’s leg between yours. Your eyes widen as Mark is pressing his leg towards your core, making you accidentally let out a small whimper, before covering your mouth with your hand. You can’t believe it. Just the feeling of Mark’s leg made you let out a freaking whimper! This is so humiliating and now he is 100% sure that you had been lying right in front of his face this whole time.

“Well, well. What was that y/n? Was that the sound of your defeat? Just give up, how would you like me to fuck you? Right here in your house? Or are you more turned on with the tought of me fucking you in a classroom?”, he says as his thumb swipes across your lips, making your lips open up for him, trying to push his thumb into your mouth.

Before you can protest saying it’s not true, even if that last offer sounded really hot, you could hear Lucas loud steps coming down from the stairs. Mark's eyes widen a bit, realizing he is seducing his best friend's little sister and quickly steps away from you.

“Hey, Mark! Why are you still standing there talking with my sister? Is it about school or something? Come on, let’s play video games!” Lucas says and grabs Mark's arm, dragging him to his room on the second floor.

—---------------------------------------------------

It’s the day after Lucas came home and you are walking down the stairs, to your kitchen. You are wearing your pink pajama shorts, which barely covers your ass, and a tight tank top that is way too small for you, because you got it four years ago. Lucas was the only person home so you didn’t care how you looked. You take a glas from the cabinet and fill it up with water. You stare at it, too tired to think straight, and when you remember the things that happened with Mark yesterday it gives you a shiver down your spine. You put down the glas you are holding on the counter when you hear someone walking into the kitchen. You think it’s Lucas and turn around when a top less Mark Lee is facing you.

He slept over? You think while looking at Mark. His hair is wet and he has a towel around his hips and his abs, wow, they are definitely defined. And you try, that’s what you are telling yourself, to not be attracted to him. When trying to look away from the man standing in front of you, you finally make eye contact with his *erm* yeah, cock, realizing that he is big. Even the white towel doesn't hide that he would absolutely destroy you if you lost this bet.

To busy eyeing your childhood crush, like a bag of candy, you forgett for a moment that Mark is also your fucking English teacher, making you cover up your eyes with your hands.

“Don’t act like you don’t love what you are seeing y/n.”, Mark says, suddenly right beside you. You shake your head, still covering your face with your hands, avoiding Mark's gaze. Mark, being annoyed with you denying him, and determined to win this bet, he takes your wrists with his hands and pins them down on the counter, making you look up at him. You are now caged in, between a half naked Mark Lee, or Mr.Lee, which makes your thighs squeeze together. You can’t help it but feel a little bit aroused by the fact that Mark is this close to you again. Almost forgetting the bet, you bite your lips trying to resist his. You are not going to kiss your English teacher, you are not going to kiss your English teacher,

“Answer me” he says and tilts his head back, making him seem more dominant in a situation like this. You turn your face away from him, not wanting to look at him. You are not going to kiss your English teacher, you are not going to kiss your English teacher

“I don’t know what you mean”. You say, obviously lying. Mark is not dumb and he lets out a chuckle watching your your chest rise up and down as you breathe. You are nervous, and he knows it.

“And you dressed up so nice for me, you know how much I love the color pink, especially if it is a small tank top paired with cute pajama shorts” he says with a big grin on his face, teasing you. You hate that you feel a little bit flattered, knowing that he had seen you in this pajama set before. Did he always see you like this? Or was this just a way for him to make you flustered? You lean more towards the second option.

One of his hands is now leaving your wrist, slowly moving towards your hair, playing with it. You are not going to kiss your English teacher.

His face is slowly moving towards yours, and you can’t help it but slowly move towards his face too. I know it’s hard to resist him y/n, but you really need to win this bet.

You feel his other hand moving up, now touching your waist, while his other hand is now planted on the back of your head. He looks deep into your eyes, and his eyes are dark, and you already know the things he wants to do with you. You are not going to kiss your English teacher.

You can feel his breath on your lips, and you are millimeters from kissing each other, making your childhood dreams come true. The way he is simply touching you, makes you weak, and you hate the fact that you already know that you had fallen for Mark Lee. Again. For the second time in your life.

That’s when you hear Lucas loud steps, again, coming down from the stairs, making Mark immediately release you from his grasp. Thank god, maybe Lucas wasn't that bad afterall.

Mark Lee aka Mr. lee aka your new fucking English teacher is giving you a wink before walking towards Lucas. Tomorrow it’s monday and you have English on mondays last period. Shit.

—---------------------------------------------------

You sit on your desk silently as Mark Lee is having a presentation about English history and you try your best to not fall asleep at your desk, the thing you would normally do. Your legs are crossed and you are wearing a short skirt, because you forgot you had English today. You already know you have to explain to Mark later that you didn’t wear the skirt for him, but you already know he isn’t going to believe you, you don’t even know if you believe yourself.

Mark, as always, is looking very hot today too. After both seeing him with and (low-key) without clothes, makes him look even hotter. He has abs under that goddamn button up. Today he is wearing his normal school-suit, aka a white button up shirt with a black tie and a pair of suit pants. He never wears the coat with his outfit, but that makes his chest appear bigger. So it’s completely fine with you. Even if that outfit alone is making your stomach tingle, today it’s different. Today he is wearing rings. Again.

When you saw him wearing rings yesterday, in your house, it was hot. But today. Today was different. When he wore the rings with his normal clothes, it made him look hot, but the rings plus his suit made him look even hotter. The thought of him fucking you, hard, on his desk and holding your neck, flods your brain while you look at him. You just know that his hand would fit so perfectly around your neck, and you get horny when you think about how the metal from his rings would feel on you.

You are, apparently, so lost in your thoughts that you can’t hear Mark calling for you.

“Ms. Wong! Ms. Wong! Are you not paying attention to my class? Can you tell everyone what I was just talking about?” he says, trying to sound angry at you. He knew you were fantasizing about him.

You look at him stunned, not used to being called out like this in the middle of a class. You don’t remember what he was talking about and try to guess.

“Erm… English history..?” Mark walks up to you, and leans down on your desk, and looks you deep in your eyes. He lets out a big sigh and looks down while shaking his head, before looking up at you again.

“Sorry Ms. Wong, but I'm afraid that you will get detention. You need to learn that there are consequences to your actions” He says and tilts his head to the side, before walking back to the front of the classroom, continuing with his presentation.

Oh no. Oh no. nonononononono. This is a trap. This is definitely a trap. Was he planning to fuck you in the classroom. You look up at him and he looks at you and gives you a teasing grin. You look down at your desk again. Oh shit he definitely was. The dirty thought of being fucked by Mark, not only in a classroom, but in the classroom he teaches in, turned you on. You tried to push away this emotion but it was hard. So hard that you could simply not do it. It’s now you are sure that just with a simple touch, you will lose.

Now you are all alone in the classroom, again, with Mark Lee. He looks at you from his desk, and is sitting on his chair, leaning back. “Ms. Wong, can you come to me please?” Your legs are shaking as you are walking towards Mark and you are now standing in front of him. Your hands are tugging the side of your skirt, trying to make it longer now when you are so close to him. He looks at you silently up and down as he tilts his head to the side. The tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife. His legs are far apart, making it a perfect seat and he smirks at you.

“Come here y/n”, he says and pats his lap. You can’t take it anymore. You are so hypnotized that you can’t even do anything, you just stand in front of him, mouth gaping and look at him. Mark is done with your bullshit and grabs your arm with his hand and shoves you towards him, making you sit on his thigh. You gasp, surprised by the sudden attack, and he lets out a small chuckle.

He leans more into you and he is so close that you can feel his breath on your lips. But you don’t do anything. Just sit there, too tired to resist, waiting for Mark to take over you.

“Why are you not complaining anymore? Are you finally going to accept the fact that you want me to fuck the shit out of you?” you look at him and nod your head, to horny for your own good. He grabs your neck, making you gasp at the feeling of his metal ring against your throat.

“Answer me properly y/n, listen to your teacher” he says and licks his lips. “Yes, Mark” you say as he suddenly tightens his grip around your neck.

“In the classroom, it’s Mr. Lee”.

You had lost the bet. Officially. You were definitely going to kiss your English teacher.

“Yes, Mr. Lee”

Mark doesn't waste a single second before smashing his lips into yours. The kiss is harsh and sloppy and his hand is still holding on your neck while the other one is on your waist. He suddenly presses you down towards his leg, making you let out a small moan from the friction. You can’t help it and grind on his thigh while he kisses you, making you wetter and wetter by every second. He pulls away from the kiss, and you both are phanting, and he looks up at you.

“You are such a little whore, getting of by grinding on your teachers thigh”, his words making you moan again, just begging him to fuck you, already forgetting about that stupid bet. He suddenly attacks your neck, sucking on it, already finding your sweet spot. He was really good at this. He seems to be addicted to your neck, your scent, just making him want to claim you, to mark you up. He pulls away from your neck and your head is tilted back, your pussy still grinding on his thigh, and he already feels his jeans getting wet from you.

He tilts his head to the side and observes you. Your hair is already messy and he havent even fucked you yet. Your lips are sore and red from the kiss and your white button up shirt is disheveled and he can already see the purple marks forming on your skin. He can’t wait to fuck you. To fuck his best friends little sister.

His hands suddenly meet your waist, forcing you to stop the motion of your hips. You look up at him, whining. You want him so bad, so why did he try to stop you? He looks at you and his tongue is poking the inside of his cheeks.

“Do you really wan’t me to fuck you this bad, slut? Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me. Give me your consent and I can guarantee you that you are not going to be able to walk afterwards.”

You look at him. His black hair is messy and his lips have lipstick on them. Your lipstick. You want this, you need this. You need him. You need Mr. Mark Lee.

“I want you to fuck me Mr. Lee. Do whatever you want, I don’t care, I'm yours. I'm your slut” Mark looks at you and raises his eyebrow, and licks his teeth while he smirks and suddenly your stomach is pressed towards his desk. The stuff before lying on his desk, is now falling to the floor, making the whole classroom a mess.

One of his hands is on your waist while the other one is massaging your ass, giving it a squeeze. He flicks up your skirt, and squats down so he is eye level with your core. He licks his lips as admires the wet patch on your panties. Such a mess already. He lifts up one of his fingers and gently strokes your wet folds over your soaking panties, making you let out a whimper. He is teasing you, and you can’t take it anymore. You need him now.

“Please Mr Lee I can’t take it anymore, I need you” you say and look up at him. His eyes are dark, filled with lust. He can’t believe that he was able to break you like this.

He doesn't answer you and just lets out a low chuckle. Oh you are so not prepared for this. He looks down at you, flicks his tongue and unbuckles his black belt slowey. Normally, you would tell him to hurry up, but the way his veiny hands unbuckles his belt makes your lips part together, just waiting to see how big he really is.

Finally he is done unbuckling his belt and he takes off his pants and boxers in one go, making you see all of him. Wow, he is so big and thick. Probably the biggest cock you have ever seen, and you have seen a couple of dicks in your lifetime. You look at his cock and then up at him, your eyes begging him to fuck you.

He grabs the base of his cock and his other hand is still on your hips. He slaps his cock on your core, teasing your entrance, and he looks at you and squints his eyes and licks his lips. “Beg for it, show me that you are good enough for me to fuck you”. You look up at him from behind with pleading eyes.

“Please fuck my pussy Mr. Mark Lee”

After Mark hear your pleade he slammes his cock into you, showing you no mercy, treating you like his personal fuck toy. You let out a loud moan at the feeling of his cock being buried deep inside you. Fucking finally. He rocks his hips towards you, fucking you at a staddy, but fast, pace and he let’s out the sexiest groan you have ever heard in your entire life.

You need to look back at him. You need to see what he looks like when he fucks you. So you try your best to turn around to look at him and holy fuck. His head is tilted back, and his eyes are closed and his mouth open because of pleasure.

He opens his eyes and sees that you are looking at him and shakes his head. The hand that was before placed on your hips is now pressing down your head towards the desk. His dominance is really impressive and surprisingly addicting in a way. You don’t want to know how much you would let him do to you, but you know it’s a lot.

But if him fucking you from behind wasen’t enough, you suddenly feel his hand leaving your head, to rubb against your clit, sending you over the edge. This is too much for you.

All you can hear in the classroom is the sound of you moaning and screaming his name, begging him to let you cum.

And that’s exactly what you do. You cum. All over his cock still fucking you stupid, overstimulating you until he comes inside of you. Thank god you are on the pill.

Mark is slowly pulling out of you and look at your red swollen pussy. He nearly gets hard again when he sees how his cum is leaking out of you. You try to stand up, but it’s hard, already sore from the feeling of him fucking you. He was right. You are not going to be able to walk normally after this.

You turn around to look at him and both of you are panting hard. He grabs your jaw and swipes his thumb over your mouth. “You don’t know how much I have waited to fuck you like this” he says and replays hip thumb with his mounth and kisses you. The kiss is fast but sincere. You look up at him and smile at him, disappointed in yourself. You lost the bet.

“It looks like I lost the bet” you say and look away from him. He lets out a big sigh and turn your head so you look at him. “Forgett about that stupid bet y/n, do you not understand that I agreed to that bet as an escuse to come close to you? I always knew you loved challenges”

You look up at him surprised. It was all, fake?

He lets out a pure laugh, the first time since you meet each other. “Sooo,” Mark says as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, “do you, like, want to do something later? Without the fucking?” You smile at him and answer him with a quick kiss on his lips.

“Of Course I want, Mr. Lee.”

He looks at you, laughs, and pats the top of your head.

“You are allowed to call me Mark in the classroom, y/n”

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