#any one else notice the blush-

[steddiealltheway]

Eddie chronically leaves his rings at Steve’s place to the point that Steve checks the bathroom and kitchen sink every time after he leaves, only to find one of them there every time.

Not that Steve is entirely complaining since this means he gets to call him and Eddie gets to stop by on his own to pick them up.

But when they’re at the Wheeler’s place, and Eddie says he’s going to the bathroom, Steve says, “Be careful not to leave one of your rings behind,” with a wink that has the kids exchanging confused looks. But Steve doesn’t notice because he’s too distracted by the light blush coloring Eddie’s cheeks.

“Why would Eddie leave one of his rings behind?” Dustin asks Steve when Eddie’s out of earshot.

Steve laughs. “He leaves one behind every time he washes his hands I swear. I don’t know how he hasn’t lost one at this point.” But his amusement is quick to die down when he realizes the kids are staring at him as if he’s absolutely insane. “What?”

They all glance at each other, and Steve is surprised when Mike is the first to pipe in, “He never leaves them anywhere. They’re like his prized possession. I’ve never even seen him take them off.”

Steve frowns and glances around at everyone, sensing that there’s definitely something he’s missing, so he’s quick to lie, “Well, I guess it was only once or twice that it happened. Maybe it was my fancy soap. Made things too… slippery.”

He gets a few eye rolls at the comment, but the group is quick to move on especially when Eddie comes back a few moments later with all his rings on his hands.

Steve gives him a quick smile, and Eddie is quick to return it, eyes lingering on him for a few seconds longer than necessary and the same blush from earlier returning.

It hits Steve very suddenly.

The rings are an excuse to come back.

And with this knowledge, Steve’s let’s his own gaze linger on Eddie longer than he usually allows, moving into his space more often than not, and carefully keeping track of time, waiting for the hang out to end.

When it finally comes to a halt, Steve is quick to say his goodbyes, hoping that Eddie will join and let the kids have their unnecessarily prolonged goodbyes in private. And luckily, Eddie is quick to move out of the basement, following after Steve in a way that’s supposed to look causal but is anything but casual now that Steve knows to look for the signs.

When he and Eddie silently go out the front door, Steve is quick to turn to him and hold out his hand. Eddie gives him a confused look but offers his hand which Steve takes and slides one of the rings off of.

Eddie stares at it for a moment, looking slightly frightened, as if he’s been caught doing something he isn’t supposed to.

Steve is quick to soothe the fear as he pockets the ring and says, “Just so you’ll have an excuse to stop by later tonight.”

Eddie’s cheeks flush bright red and he runs a hand over his face. “Shit.”

Steve laughs, “So it has been on purpose?”

“No,” Eddie clearly lies, pulling a strand of hair in front of his face.

“And what if I told you I wanted it to be on purpose?” Steve asks.

Eddie freezes for a moment as if he’s waiting for Steve to tell him that he’s joking, but Steve sits in the silence, letting the question settle between them.

“Then,” Eddie starts, taking a small step forward into Steve’s space, “I would-”

The door behind them bursts open and Dustin yells, “Hurry up I have a curfew!” as he races off to Steve’s car.

Steve rolls his eyes at the kid and takes a step back as everyone else makes their way out the door to the cars or their bikes.

Steve and Eddie linger behind for a moment, which Steve uses to quietly ask, “I’ll see you tonight?”

Eddie gives him a bashful smile in return and nods. “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”

Steve resists the urge to celebrate in any way in front of the kids and instead puts his hand in his pocket, fingers curling around Eddie’s ring.

As he gets into his car, ignoring Dustin bitching and complaining, he slips the ring over his finger and smiles at it.

He notices the car go quiet and he nearly groans at his mistake.

“Is that Eddie’s ring?” Dustin screeches.

It’s going to be a long drive home, but Steve doesn’t mind when he has Eddie to look forward to.

#steddie #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things

[buckyalpine]

Imagine jealous!sharon want to get you out of the way so she can be with Bucky…

She hurts you (even it’s like a bruise) and Bucky begins to be so protective of you 🥺🥵

ABSOLUTELY.

I'm imaging this with a soft sweet reader and fuckboi Bucky. Hear me out, okay.

He's not looking for a relationship at all, finally feeling a sense of freedom after getting a bit of himself back. He's so flirty with everyone, so charming, he knows he can get whoever he wants.

He fucks.

A lot.

Sharon eats it up, loving the smirks he gives her, his playful baby blue eyes always sparkling. She loves the naughty way he bites his lip and don't even get her started on how gorgeous he is when he works out shirtless. His Brooklyn accent comes out when he calls her darlin' and it makes her weak in the knees.

There's just one issue.

The looks he gives Sharon aren't special. She's not the only one he calls darlin', even the old lady at the coffee shop shares the same pet name. Bucky can't help the little smirks he tosses around to others, flirty compliments naturally falling from his lips. He's a bit of a heart breaker but it's who he is.

That's just Bucky.

That's Bucky with everyone else.

Then there's Bucky with you.

The quite lab assistant who worked at the compound.

He didn't have it in him to playfully flirt with you when you asked about his day. He actually liked talking to you, finding any excuse under the sun to keep the conversation going, poking at the little nick knacks you have on your desk so he doesn't have to leave so quickly.

Sharon hates the way he looks at you. Whenever he's around you, he looks at you with puppy eyes as if he's wondering how someone so sweet could possibly exist. She catches onto the way he's not the same with you as he is with others. He's called everyone in passing darlin' with a drawl of his voice but you're his doll. He's never used that with anyone else. That's reserved just for you.

She can't stand it.

At first she tries to pick you apart in subtle ways' maybe you'd finally realize you had no business talking to someone like Bucky.

"You're so pretty even though you wear glasses"

"Don't worry, that dress would still look good on your body type, its meant to suit everyone"

"I wish I was as brave as you to wear that! I'd love to have that much confidence but I could never"

She smiled sweetly while you pulled your lab coat closer together, clutching it tightly in your hand. Your heart sank to your stomach. You'd worn one of your favorite dresses, one many others had always said you looked perfect in but some how Sharon made you doubt that, despite her sugary smile.

Then she took it a step further to make sure you were more isolated, insisting you'd be uninterested in plans when the team wanted to go out. Purposely giving you extra work when they had drinks together. Anything to keep you sad and holed away in your lab while she kept Bucky all to herself.

She'd do anything to get rid of you.

She was almost certain everything was going accordingly to plan, inching closer and closer to Bucky during a movie night until she was pressed against him, sharing his blanket. Not that Bucky noticed since he was more distracted over the fact that Sam was also squished against him on the other side of the small couch. Sam was also buried under the now too hot blanket, his deep snores irrupting the movie having fell asleep on Bucky's shoulder.

"Damn bird brain" Bucky huffed, ignoring the fact that he pushed Sharon off while reluctantly adjusting himself so Sam's head wouldn't slip, shaking his head when Sam grumbled, trying to snuggle into Bucky more.

"Bet you wish that was y/n, huh" Tony wiggled his eyebrows and much to Sharon's distain, Bucky blushed. Not did he deny it.

It didn't matter though. She'd find a way to get Bucky's attention, it wasn't like you were real competition anyways. She figured you'd have the sense to like someone better suited for you, someone in your league, definitely not the very handsome Sergeant.

That was until she found out you had a crush on the super soldier yourself. You'd let it slip out during a conversation with Nat, not realizing there was someone near the lab. Sharon didn't think you actually had a chance with Bucky but it didn't matter.

At this point she didn't care about what it took.

She was sick of the way Bucky was soft over you.

So she took a more direct approach.

"Y'know, I heard someone has a little crush on a certain super soldier" Sharon smirked, wandering to your table, tinkering with one of your tools while you looked at her like a deer caught in head lights.

How did she know?!"

"I-I don't-

"Oh please y/n, everyone knows" the blonde rolled her eyes at your gaping mouth before continuing, "I just thought I should let you know that he's not interested"

You felt like you had been punched in the stomach, the hurt expression on your face made her satisfied,.

"Oh" Was all you mustered out, embarrassed beyond belief while she shrugged. You blinked back tears while Sharon squeezed your shoulder out of faux concern, handing you a tissue.

"I'm so sorry, honestly I just thought you should know because he likes me. And I like him. So it would be best for you to move on, because were seeing each other" It didn't matter if it was a lie because she intended on making it real soon enough.

From that day, you avoided everyone in the compound like the plague, throwing yourself into work, feeling ridiculous for having even thought of Bucky that way. Of course he'd never go for someone like you, you should've known that from the start.

Sharon's plan was short lived after she overheard Bucky worriedly asking Tony about where you'd been all week since he hadn't seen you. After some endless teasing, Tony reassured him you were fine and just busy with lab work, not knowing the true reason as to why you'd overloaded yourself.

Sharon despised the pink that decorated Bucky's cheeks whenever someone said your name.

She hated that she'd seen him walking by the lab hallway in search of you.

She'd do anything to end all of this.

Including hurt you.

-

You made your way down to the gym hoping to sweat some of your unrequited feelings away, putting on your headphones before hopping on the treadmill. Sharon walked in moments later, blonde hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, her toned body on full display in nothing but a sports bra and some tiny shorts.

You felt even worse.

You tried to stay hidden, deciding 15 minutes would be enough, though your escape was cut short with Sharon caught your arm just as you were about to leave.

"How about we spar for a bit" She smiled sweetly, giggling at your confused expression. You'd never sparred in your life, in fact this was probably the third time you'd even used the gym the entire time you'd lived at the compound.

"Sharon, I-I don't think that's a good idea, I've never-

She cut you off, dragging you to the mat, practically shoving you to the middle with more force than necessary.

"It's fine! I mean, it's good for you to learn since you work here n'all C'mon, I'll help you and show you what to do" Before you could say anything, Sharon had flipped you onto the mat, twisting your arm behind your back without warning. You gasped in pain as she gripped harder, pulling further up your back until she heard your joints crack.

"Let-let go" You winced out, confused over what part of sparring this was, your body hitting the floor when she released her grip.

"Ops" Sharon pouted with faux innocence, taking a long sip from her water while you hissed in pain, seeing the formation of a bruise already forming on your arm.

"SHARON"

Sharon squeaked in surprised at the loud voice that boomed through the gym, bouncing off the walls. Her eyes shot up to see a very angry super solder making his way over to the mat, eyes darkening as they landed to your injured form on the ground.

"What the fuck did you do?!"

"Bucky, we were just-

"Don't" Bucky growled through gritted teeth, rushing over to your side, and slipping his arm around your waist.

"Angel, are you okay?" He cupped your cheek, helping you to your feet and taking your hand in his, examining it with the utmost care. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"M'all right" You nodded, your face heating up under his gaze, still a little shaken, your body trembling.

"How the fuck could you hurt her" Bucky spat, his metal hand clenched to his side, itching to punch Sharon in the jaw, having seen what she had just done but he didn't want to deal with the mess that would come afterwards. "The hell did you do that for"

"Excuse me? I was just showing her how to-"

Bucky's jaw clenched, instantly shutting her up. He refused to let go of you, keeping you firmly tucked into his side, growing unbelievably protective over you.

"Fine, go ahead, I'm sure she's different from all your other little side pieces" Sharon scoffed, smirking at the way your face fell. Bucky felt like he'd been hit in the chest; you were far more than any of his hook ups and he'd never considered treating you that way.

"You. Don't. Touch. Her" He glared her at before walking off with you. After the incident, Bucky insisted you go to the doctors to get checked over, waiting outside of the room like a kicked puppy. He couldn't help but feel guilty that all this had happened because of him. He also wondered that you thought.

Did you think he'd just use you for one night?

He would never.

He knew he wasn't into dating. He gave up on the dream of getting married, having kids, all that years ago. But that was before he met you. Ever since you'd thrown him a shy smile along with the softest hello Sergeant Barnes, Bucky had been a goner.

If his feelings were was bad before, it was even worse now.

You were told to ice your arm for the pain and swelling. Bucky had swept you away right to the kitchen, despite you telling him you'd be fine, plopping you onto the kitchen island wrapping an ice pack in a towel. He held it to your arm, frowning at the way you refused to look at him, your face downcast to the floor.

"Doll?" Bucky wrapped his arms around you for a comforting hug, wondering if the altercating with Sharon was still upsetting you, "Are you okay sweets? I missed you, haven't seen you in ages"

"I-I'm fine, I'm sorry" You pulled away from his arms, remembering Sharon's words from earlier, instantly missing the warmth of his body. "I know you don't feel the same way Bucky" You bit your lip to keep it from trembling.

Bucky blinked in confusion, having no idea what you were talking about. What did he not feel the same way over.

"What do you mean y/n"

"I mean I like you-but I know you don't like me that way so I kept myself busy so I wouldn't bother you because Sharon said-

"Wait, slow down, what did Sharon say"

You sighed before recounting all the things that had lead to this moment, Sharon insulting you, then telling you to back off, to straight up fighting you.

"Oh doll" Bucky shook his head, feeling worse over what had happened but over the moon over your confessed feelings, "She's right you know," He teased at the pout that made it's way to your lips before playfully pecking them, catching you by surprise.

"I don't do relationships. Certainly never had before. That was before I met the sweetest thing in the world and she's had my heart since" Bucky whispered, his hands, one warm, one cool cupping your cheeks, "She has me dreamin' of sayin' I do and that white picket fence, a ring on her finger, a pretty little baby bump with flowers on the window sill. Maybe a baby boy n' a baby girl. Maybe even a cat. She's the cutest little lab assistance and I'd love for her to be my girl, sweets"

Bucky held your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing over your warm cheeks while you grew bashfully shy, burying your face into his chest instead, making him chuckle.

"I didn't think you were the relationship type" You shrugged, toying with his dog tags, "I'm not you're darlin' Bucky"

"That's cause you're my doll" Bucky tilted your face up making you look up at him, his lips pressing the softest kiss to your nose and then your lips. "My one and only doll"

#bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky angst #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fanmix #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky fan fics #bucky fan fic #bucky fan fiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfics #protective bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f reader #bucky #soft bucky #sharon carter

[lev1hei1chou]

Little Snitch

Dad!Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Words: 444 Synopsis: Gojo's son is a snitch Masterlist

Gojo Satoru strode into the preschool, his white hair practically glowing against the backdrop of the brightly colored walls. His usual confident grin was plastered on his face as he approached the reception desk to sign in for his son.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Gojo," greeted the receptionist with a warm smile.

"Hey there! Here to pick up S/N," Gojo replied cheerfully, signing the necessary paperwork before making his way to the classroom.

As he stepped into the room, he immediately spotted his son playing with blocks in the corner. The little boy's eyes lit up at the sight of his father and he ran over, wrapping his tiny arms around Gojo's legs.

"Daddy!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

"Hey, champ! Ready to go home?" Gojo asked, ruffling S/N's hair affectionately.

"Yeah!" the younger boy nodded eagerly, taking his father's hand as they made their way out of the classroom.

As they walked through the hallway, a young teacher approached them with a friendly smile. "Hello, Mr. Gojo. I couldn't help but notice how adorable S/N is. You must be so proud."

Gojo's grin widened, his charisma oozing effortlessly. "Oh, definitely. He takes after his father, afterall."

The young teacher blushed slightly at his words, her gaze lingering on Gojo for a moment longer than necessary. "Well, if you ever need any help with S/N, or anything else for that matter, please don't hesitate to ask."

Gojo chuckled softly, giving her a charming wink. "I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

As they exited the preschool and headed home, his son chatted animatedly about his day making expressive gestures with his hands, oblivious to the brief exchange between his father and the teacher.

Once they were home, the little one burst through the door and ran straight to where his mother was waiting in the living room.

"Mama! Mama!" he exclaimed, tugging on her sleeve.

"What is it, sweetheart?" you asked, smiling down at him.

"Daddy talked to a pretty lady at school today!" he announced excitedly.

You raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in your eyes as you turned to Gojo, who entered the room with a sheepish grin.

"Is that so?" you teased, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Yeah, but don't worry, I shut her down real quick," Gojo said with a wink, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

You laughed, shaking your head in mock disapproval. "Well, it looks like I'll have to start picking him up from school from now on. Can't have you causing trouble with the teachers."

Gojo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Sounds like a plan, babe."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo #satoru gojo #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk gojo x reader #jjk satoru #gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo fluff #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fanfic #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader

[aphroditesswan]

Hi! I was wondering whether you could do hc’s on when hsr men and women react when they see a bulge (whether from their cocks or dildo’s) when their fucking you - G

intro: singularity 

honkai star rail x afab fem reader 

warning : smut, tummy bulge, nsft, rough sex, mating press, degrading, praise, full nelson, cowgirl, begging, body worship, mirror usage (?), size kink, breeding kink, marking, spanking, implied strap on use but never explicitly stated, breath play, i dunno what else ngl, might be ooc 

summary : while the hsr characters are rearranging your insides, they notice themselves inside your guts. how do they react? 

genre : smut 

notes : can you tell i went SO HARD on the women’s. 

Caelus 

caelus threw his head back as he sank into you, his arms hooked around the back of your legs to spread them wide open for the mirror in front of you both, his hips bucking up to push himself further into you. he brought his gaze back, that the whole point of the mirror was to see your pretty face as he fucked you senseless. he moved in and out, his eyes moving around your body and almost completely tuning out your whines at his agonizingly slow pace. when he noticed the small bump in your stomach that disappeared when he pulled almost halfway out, he only got slower, wanting to see every second that his cock moved in and out of you and really, truly fucked you. 

“just wait baby, please please please please… fuck you feel so nice around me.” 

Stelle 

her hands gripped your hips as she moved you up and down her length, her eyes focused on the way your chest moved up and down with your breath along with each sudden buck of her hips she made up into you. when stelle’s gaze finally met the bulge in your stomach, she bucked her hips up harder than before to get a good look at the tent that appeared and disappeared with each thrust, causing a yelp to be let out of you. she put pressure on the bulge as she thrusted in as deeply as she could, a giddy smile on her face that complimented her dazed eyes that were focused on your stomach and tits that bounced with each thrust. she was completely and utterly memorized with how your body moved and reacted to everything she did, and she was only determined to keep seeing the reactions on that pretty face of yours. 

“look at how nice i look in you, baby… you’re sooo gorgeous like this,,” 

March 7th

her hands eagerly moved around you, touching, feeling, groping wherever they could as she thrusted in and out of you. march noticed the slight movement in your stomach when she moved her hands down to claw into your thighs, but she didn’t stop any of her thrust. she kept going just as she had before she noticed, one hand digging into your thigh while the other pushed down on your stomach as she giggled softly at the sight. she was quick to grab her camera though, snapping a picture on her blue camera of the bulge in your stomach appearing as she thrusted in and out of you, then one of your flushed out face, getting your pretty tits in both pictures. 

“you’re so pretty for me, how could i resist?” 

Dan Heng

his fingers were digging into the soft plush of your thighs when he noticed, slowing down his moments which was complete agony for you. dan heng quietly observed with his mouth slightly agape, just gazing at the small bulge in your stomach that could be seen as he thrusted in and out of you harshly. he kept his eyes focused on you and clear, his demeanor seemingly calm, but the very obvious blush on his face and the way he’s staring straight into the little area of your guts spoke otherwise. he’ll return to his fast pace in just a second, just let him admire you for a bit. 

“oh… oh, wow…” 

Kafka 

she had already bent you like a pretzel, you wondered how she hadn’t seen the bulge in your stomach by now as she pressed her hips against yours countless times. kafka had your legs over her shoulders, a gold anklet with the letter ‘k’ on it for her swinging back and forth and dangling next to her ear for her to hear as she pushed in and out of you. her gaze finally shifting from your fucked out expression to trial down between your bouncing breast and while on her way to where your bodies connected, something catching her eye that made her look from your dripping cunt to right above, the small bump going in and out with each thrust. she moved a hand that gripped right above your knee and pressed you against her chest to push down on the bulge, feeling it move under her as the other hand squeezed your neck softly. 

“you’re such a slut, y’know? felt that this whole time and didn’t even think to tell me.” 

Himeko 

she was so,so,so gentle with you. himeko was always taking her time to fully sink you done onto her length as she sat you flat on her lap. she ran her hands over your body, pressing and squeezing where she wanted but was still so gentle with you, letting you set the pace and believe you were in control and everything. she had her eyes focused on you, eye contact being something she valued when fucking you so nicely you saw white. her hands trailed down the sides of your stomach, whispering praises on how good you were for her, how she enjoyed every single second of you on top of her when her hands stopped, fingers grazing over the place where she felt a bit of movement. she caught on rather quickly, laughing under her breath to herself. 

“my… how lewd, don’t you think?” 

Blade 

with your thighs pressed against his large chest, movement for you was almost impossible unless blade was manhandling you or you were rocking back and forth from his harsh thrust. his hands gripped bruises into your hips, groaning into your ear as he restricted some of your breathing with just pressing himself onto you, your knees pushing your tits together and your thighs against your stomach. he was laid on top of you but was somehow keeping his stance with how he thrusted in and out of you. he looked down to see where you two met, seeing the small bulge that popped out whenever he was balls deep in you. he chuckled lowly at the sight below him, smacking your thigh which earned a small yelp and a star seeing clench around his cock from you. 

“pathetic, you’re so small i’m practically popping out of you. you can take it, can’t you?”

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #hsr x reader #hsr smut #hsr drabbles #star rail #hsr #caelus x readers #caelus smut #stelle smut #stelle x reader #march 7th smut #march 7th x reader #dan heng x reader #dan heng smut #kafka smut #kafka x reader #himeko smut #himeko x reader #blade x reader #blade smut #caelus hsr #stelle hsr #dan heng #march 7th hsr #dan heng hsr #kafka hsr #blade hsr #himeko hsr

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

chocolate confession ♡

fem reader, part 2 for the ring pop proposal miniseries since yall were asking for it ! fem reader, soft n worried katsu, white day chocolates, katsu n reader r in highschool (ignore the no dorms blehh :P) in this one, this also reeks of my ocxcanon ship msorry yall lolololol, i dont think there are any warnings, but lemme know if i missed sum else !

the first person who realizes katsuki is trying to confess to you is his mom because he hasn't left the kitchen since he'd banished everyone from coming in as soon as the sun peeked through the curtains.

the older woman had no idea what the sounds of pots and pans clanging, mixed with not-so-quiet cursing meant, at first. but she figured it out quickly, call it mother's intuition, or the fact that she checked her calendar and realized tomorrow was white day.

mitsuki knew her son was going to confess to you when he came back from school with a cutely wrapped box of chocolates. her katsuki was still rowdy—if not rowdier and even less approachable than he was as a chubby cheeked little boy, so she guessed by the blush and barely suppressed smile on his face that—

"ouuu, got yourself some chocolates ? aren't you a heartthrob.." she teased "who'd you get those from ?"

katsuki scoffed at his mothers teasing. he rolled his eyes, but they wouldn't—or rather couldn't stray far away from the wrapped sweet treats. he runs his thumb over the ribbon tied in front.

"..yn gave 'em to me." he huffs proudly.

as she guessed, they came from you. of course.

katsuki is still—if not even more protective over everything that involves you, practically growling at his mom's not so sneaky attempts at trying to sneak a chocolate when he had opened the box "yn made 'em for me, so no touchin'." he snarled, stomping over to his room and ignoring his mom's knowing smirk when he made his way up the stairs.

this memory brings her back to now when she suddenly hears..nothing. absolute silence in contrast to all the ruckus from only a few seconds ago. and then the door creaks open just a bit and mitsuki sees her son's head peek out from the corner. she looks up from her magazine to raise a brow in question and the blond boy glares, jolting his head to the side in a silent plea for her to come over.

she saunters to the door, knowing smirk growing wider the more her son's grumpy face comes into view. she gets a peek of her kitchen through the small crack her son allowed her to see. she had to admit, though rowdy, katsuki was anything but messy. even though the dishes piled up, she knew he'd clean them up soon enough. she looks down at him and he avoids eye contact.

"can i come into my kitchen now ?" she smirks. katsuki scoffs at his feet. he grumbles something unintelligible before side stepping and telling her to 'just come in already.'

the woman is greeted with a batch of freshly made chocolates, which she assumes are one's you like if she knew how enamoured her katsuki was with you.

"ouu, who are these for, hm ?" she teased, but if he knew her son well enough she knew that these—

"sh-shut up !" katsuki snapped, cheeks turning red and eyes drifting around the room "you know who.." he challenges. mitsuki smirks wider, crossing her arms.

as she guessed, they're for you.

"okay.." she humors him, shifting her weight to her other leg " and what do you need me to do here ?"

katsuki inhales shortly to himself. he picks up one of the chocolates, not from your tray because those were for you and no one else, but from another tray she hadn't noticed of sloppier batches.

"try this." is all he says. handing her a little piece of deformed chocolate and she plops it into her mouth. she takes the time to let the sweet treat melt on her tongue before letting out a pleased hum. katsuki straightens up and his eyes shine and brighten the slightest bit.

"mhm, these are good." she acknowledged "but why don't i get one of the pretty ones ?" she teases. her katsuki all but scoffs in her face, simply stating that "these are for yn, not you."

and mitsuki realizes. he must've been working for hours trying to make these chocolates perfect for you, she guessed. her heart warms and her eyes soften at her son's adoration for you.

"but the one you gave me is good too, why can't you just give her one of those ?" at that, katsuki shoots her an incredulous look, like she had just told him something utterly unimaginable.

"i can't go around givin' her shitty chocolates ! 'specially not if i.." he trails off suddenly, grumbling with balled fists. he wipes at his cheek to try and wipe off his embarrassment. mitsuki feels her smile practically reach her ears. she's too good at this.

"if you what ?" she sings, leaning towards her son. he grumbles.

"if i—stop looking at me like that ! s'creepy so knock it off !" the blond snapped, face and ears a bright shade of pink and mitsuki can't help but bark out a loud laugh at her son's flustered state, her laugh drowns out the low growl he makes. she decides to spare him after a good giggle.

"okay, okay. i get it." she reassures. because she does, of course she does. but she sees something is wrong with the way her son seems satisfied for only a second before he's chewing at his lower lip and the way he wipes his hands against his pants. she knows her katsuki is extremely hard to handle. he could be quite the brat, but also extremely stubborn (she thinks she might know where he got that from.) so asking him simply what was wrong was out of the question. so she decides to coax him into it.

"you gonna give them to her tomorrow ?" he nods, hiding his eyes with his bangs.

"they're good. so i'm gonna give 'em to her tomorrow." her son nods at his mumbled pep talk, but the tension between his brows doesn't let up and after a moment, he sighs grumpily.

"what if i, like, fuck it up..?" mitsuki's eyes soften at her son's insecurities showing despite himself.

"how would you do that ? all you gotta do is hand them over." she asks softly. katsuki huffs.

"it's not that simple," he retorts "what if i make it weird ? what if i make things between us weird an' she doesn't wanna be with me anymore..." the sad tone of voice and the angry little puppy dog eyes make mitsuki melt, despite growing up a lot. despite being quippy and rowdy and a major brat, her katsuki will always be her little boy tugging at the bag of sweet ring pops he'd begged her to buy at the grocery store. her little boy who smiled a bright determined smile as the bag crinkled in his hand following his proud stomps to the car back home, ready for tomorrow.

a surprised throaty noise escapes katsuki when his mom places a hand in his hair, running her fingers through it. he makes a displeased noise, again, but doesn't try to stop her. mitsuki does realize her son is trying to confess to you with these chocolates, but she's a woman too and she knows you, she's known you since you were small and she knows how much you care about her son. she knows from the way katsuki kept the chocolates to himself, the barely supressed giddiness in all of his actions and the way he took his time enjoying every bite she knows and realizes that these chocolates were most definitely just for him.

and she guessed maybe you were trying to tell him something too.

she knew her katsuki had absolutely nothing to worry about, because you carried you empty ring pop container around with you in your bag and proudly explained it was 'your husband katsu' that gave it to you with a giggle. because you'd kiss his cheek without worrying about the ooh's and the kissy noises, only her son's cherry red cheeks but proud smile. because you'd giggle and laugh when he still called you his wife well into elementary school, and because you still smile so wide at the mention of his little ring pop proposal. and so, she smiled. startling katsuki by rubbing his hair fast like an almost noogie. he growls at the sudden shift, gripping his mother's arm and pulling away with a scowl, rubbing and trying to fix his hair. "the hell are you doin', hag ?!" her son seethed, and all she can do is smile.

"you got nothin' to worry about, katsuki." she says sincerely, the boy's arms drop and altough his barely there pout remains he tries to act tough, raising a brow at her "how do you know that ?"

"call it mother's intuition." her smile widens at his scoff and rolled eyes, he's better at it now and she laughs. " why do you wanna give these to her ?" she urges. he thinks for a moment, before his cheeks burn red again but his eyes go soft and warm and so much more enamoured with you than he was all those years ago in the car.

"cus..i like her.." he confesses "an' i don't want anybody else to do it before me." he finishes bitterly.

he's always been protective of you. any other boy you were paired up with or sat next to when the class seating order changed was considered public enemy number one for a while. of course, you had him on a leash, always being able to soothe him by saying that he was your number one best friend. and that was more than enough for him to throw smart glares and snarky smirks, grabbing your hand and dragging you off somewhere to show you something cool. something he knew you'd find cool because he prided himself in knowing exactly what you liked more than the other boys. your favorite ice cream, flowers, and chocolate flavor.

and mitsuki smiles. "right, you like her. so you can't let that scare you off, can you ?" mitsuki feels her heart soaring with pride, albeit with a little amusement when her son scoffs in response "course not. i ain't scared of shit." he states, she decides to ignore the irony of his statement for now.

"of course," she nods "and just between us, i think she likes you, too. i dunno how she does but.." katsuki's eyes widen like she'd just told him something ridiculous, completely ignoring her jab at him. she has to hold back a harsh laugh at how oblivious her son could be.

"that's just my guess though !" she shrugs nonchalantly "but there's only one way to find out if i'm right.."

after a beat, katsuki nods to himself with a grunt, grabbing the tray of chocolates and putting it in the fridge, ready for tomorrow, and wordlessly rolling up his sleeves and starting the dishes, as mitsuki guessed, and she smiles. she pets her son's head again briefly, ignoring his dissaproving grumbles, before giving him a pat on the back and wishing him good luck.

the next day, katsuki walks over to her, sat on the couch, immediately after coming back from school, with a proud smirk and gleaming red cheeks. and mitsuki knew she had nothing to worry about as she grins back.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn

tumblr is tweakin so if some of your tags don't work m'so sorry :(((

#feelin a bit meh bout this one but i think i like it #i hope yall enjoy tho !! #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugou imagine #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou fluff #katsuki x you #katsuki x y/n #bakugou x fem!reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo drabble #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Wingwoman (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader

Summary: You take your good friend/coworker, Spencer, out to the bar to find him a girl to hook up with. Things do not go as planned.

Word Count: 5107

Warnings: Romantic/sexual tension! Mentions of drinking / sex

A/N: Hi! I haven't written posted fanfic in like, 8 years, please be nice xD I would love to know your thoughts - if you have any requests or anything, I'm happy to oblige. ALSO -- I have only seen up to Season 7 of Criminal Minds because I'm a fckn loser. Anywayyyyy enjoy! Not my gif btw, all credit to the owner :)

———————————

It was kind of your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

Actually, it was definitely your fault, now that you were thinking back on it. 

It had been your suggestion to go out. It had been your idea to act as Spencer’s wingwoman, some last-ditch effort to try to get him out of your mind. He was your coworker, for Christ’s sake. And your best friend. And you’d thought about him desperately for eight of the nine months that you’d known him. 

Emily, Derek, and Penelope had all agreed to tag along, but as the work day went on, each of your coworkers had found some kind of excuse to opt-out. Derek’s niece wanted to Facetime. Penelope forgot Kevin’s birthday was next week and needed to go shopping for a present. Emily had a headache. 

Finding Spencer a romantic prospect on your own was certainly not the plan, but, stupidly, thoughtlessly, you’d decided to go along with it. You could do this. Just one night in a bar, chatting up women for the man you’d slowly been falling for the past eight months. As good of an idea as any, right? 

You and Spencer took an Uber to the bar the group frequented. Ski-ball and pool in one corner, a vintage jukebox and small space set aside as a makeshift dance floor in the other. But the best part - half-off drinks for federal agents. You’d never been one to abuse the badge before, but… 

Three Jack-and-Diet-Cokes later, your moral code had a bit of a crack in it. 

Spencer stood next to you - towered over you, actually, because that man was a fucking beanpole - and you felt his eyes on you as you scanned the crowd. “What about her?” you suggested, jerking your chin to the woman at a high-top table against the wall. She had her nose stuck in her phone and an untouched martini on the table in front of her. 

“She’s clearly waiting for someone,” Spencer pointed out, and you realized he was right just as the woman looked up from her phone and towards the door for the third time in the past minute. “I also don’t understand why you’re so dead set on finding someone to hog me up with.” 

You snorted into your drink. “Hog you up with?” you repeated, turning in your barstool so you faced him. Your knees brushed his thighs. 

“Yeah, is that not…” realization dawned on Spencer and he grimaced. “That’s not the phrase, is it?” 

“Hook,” you corrected, but not impatiently. You made a little hook with your index finger, like a pirate. A little giggle escaped you. “And I’m not dead set on it,” you argued. “I just didn’t want to be the only one leaving the bar with someone.” 

Your eyes flickered up to Spencer’s to gauge his reaction. He seemed surprised by this implication that you planned to leave with someone - someone who was not him. 

“Yeah? Who are you leaving with, matey?” Spencer countered, arching a brow and pointedly looking at your index finger, still in its hooked position. You dropped your hand. 

“It doesn’t matter right now,” you blushed furiously, desperately trying to drive the conversation back to his romantic conquests. Your thought process was that if you actually saw Spencer with someone else in any sort of romantic capacity - dancing, flirting, kissing - you’d finally hurt yourself enough with the sight for those stupid feelings for him to dissipate. “We’re looking for you.” 

Spencer merely hmm-ed in response, an indecisive non-answer, and you noticed he shook his head. Like he was annoyed, but trying not to show it. You swallowed the lump in your throat and polished off your drink before returning to examining the patrons in the bar. You nudged Spencer’s elbow with your own and your gaze landed on the group of three women giggling around one of the tables. “Any of them? The blonde is cute,” you pointed out. 

“Not really into blondes,” Spencer muttered, and you glanced back at him. You could have sworn his eyes were locked on your brunette hair. You opened your mouth to say something, but Spencer cut you off. “But, sure, if watching me strike out will amuse you, Y/N.” Before you could protest, Spencer set his glass down on the bar and started towards the trio of women at the table. 

You leaned down to sniff his glass, curious as to what he’d been drinking. Clear liquid. No smell. Was he… totally sober? 

You watched with narrowed, studious eyes as Spencer approached the women. You could only see the back of his head, but the three women’s faces were perfectly visible. They smiled, friendly, unassuming, and then something came out of Spencer’s mouth that changed their expressions. The blonde in the middle furrowed her brows, and the two women on either side cocked their heads slightly. Spencer’s hand tapped the table and he earned awkward smiles as a goodbye was bid, and when he turned around to head back towards the bar, he just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, like what are you gonna do? 

“What happened?” you asked as he returned to you. 

“I blew it,” Spencer said matter-of-factly. Too accepting of his defeat. Further supporting your theory that he’d gone over there and purposefully botched it. 

“Right,” you flagged down the bartender to order another drink. 

“You’re getting another one?” Spencer asked. 

You whirled your face to meet his and didn’t see judgment, but rather, concern. “Why does it matter?” you asked, no, dared. 

Spencer shook his head, defeatedly. “It doesn’t,” he grumbled. 

“What about that girl you were talking to earlier by the jukebox?” you asked, nudging his shin with your foot. “The grabby one. She seemed really into you.” 

Spencer visibly gritted his teeth. “I’m not interested.” 

“Are you interested in anyone in this bar tonight?” You asked. The words came too quickly for you to stop them. They were too real. Especially as Spencer’s frown hardened just slightly and you watched him look away from you. 

You took in a sharp inhale, the realization hitting you, the possibility that Spencer might actually feel the same way about you. And that you’d dragged him out here tonight to try and set him up with someone else. You were selfish and thoughtless and stupid. 

You hopped off the barstool, your feet wavering beneath you. “I’d better go home,” you said suddenly, grabbing your bag. You had to leave. You had to go home before you said something stupid, something irreversible. 

You stalked out of the bar and onto the brisk, late-autumn sidewalk. You’d forgotten your coat at the office and insisted you’d be fine. The chill smacked you in the face and you tucked your bag beneath your shoulder so you could cross your arms over your chest and hug yourself for any semblance of warmth. 

Thirty seconds hadn’t even passed before the door creaked and Spencer appeared at your side, throwing his coat wordlessly over your shoulders. “What did I do?” he asked. You looked up at him and saw his eyes - hurt, frustrated, confused. 

Your lips parted and there was a small shake of your head. “No,” you breathed. He furrowed his brows and you explained further. “You didn’t do anything.” 

“Then why the hell have you been so weird around me lately?” Spencer asked, scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. Like a temperamental first-grader. 

“Weird how?” You asked, trying to pretend like you had no idea what he was talking about. Like your stomach didn’t flip every morning when you saw him. 

“Like you’re… like you’re mad at me. Like you don’t want to be around me,” Spencer looked at the street ahead of the both of you rather than at you. “You always find an excuse to leave the room when it’s just the two of us. You pull Derek or Emily or Penelope into the conversation so you don’t have to interact with just me. You’re out here trying to find me someone to hook up with?” he phrased the last sentence as a question, shaking his head. Your heart lurched. He let out an incredulous laugh. “It’s either you’re trying to shrug me off as a friend entirely, or -” 

He stopped himself. His eyes were fixed on the streetlamp a few feet in front of you. They widened and you felt your heart pound as he slowly met your gaze. The realization hit him, the second half of his sentence lingering, heavy and palpable between the two of you. 

“Or,” you repeated, not phrasing it as a question. Your voice was soft as you said it, your tone anything but a question. 

“Or?” Spencer asked, and you could see his chest start to rise and fall more slowly. 

“Or,” you confirmed, taking in a sharp breath. 

Spencer’s throat bobbed as he looked at you, his gaze piercing and soft, studious and lazy, hungry and satiated all at once. “Oh.” 

Oh. 

“How long?” he asked, turning his feet towards you. 

Your face went red and you lifted your chin, refusing to make yourself feel ashamed of it anymore. There wasn’t any point, not when he knew now. “Since March,” you admitted. Your voice was squeaky. 

“March?” Spencer repeated, incredulous. It was early October now. 

“Yeah,” you exhaled, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and bunching it up by the middle. You handed it to him. “You don’t have to say anything,” you said. Your body felt like it was on fire. “You don’t have to-”

“I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.” 

You thought maybe you were hallucinating for a second. Your mouth fell open and despite your three drinks, you remembered clearly that Spencer had been drinking water. This was not some drunken confession, not for either of you, because the second he’d asked you why you had been so weird lately, you had instantly sobered up. “Oh,” was all you managed to choke out.

Oh. 

“Yeah, oh,” Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smile. That playful, friendly, teasing little smile you’d learned to love on him. He stepped towards you. 

You let out this little half-garbled laugh. Spencer reached for your hand, and you let him. Your fingers spread, allowing his in the spaces between. You looked up at Spencer and little fires shot up your hand. How could merely holding hands feel so monumental? 

“What do we… what do we do now?” You asked, your mind in a haze, like a computer awaiting command. 

Spencer let his jacket fall to the concrete and used his other hand to slowly, almost hesitantly, cup your cheek. He looked down at you and your entire face reddened. “Well,” his voice was soft, crackling, like a fireplace, and he met your gaze with searching eyes. “I’d like to kiss you now, if that would be okay,” he said finally. Your lips turned up into an idiotic smile. 

“I think that would be okay,” you whispered. 

His hands were so soft, you realized. His grip on your hand loosened and he was now cupping your face on both sides. And every nerve in your cheeks was firing off signals - Spencer is touching my face, Spencer is touching my face. Like it was some forbidden thing. But then, as if in slow motion, he ducked his head down and his lips touched yours. Gently, at first, tentative and wobbly like a foal taking its first steps. Your hands rested on his torso - taut beneath that stupid little sweater vest. 

He pulled back after just a moment. It was really only five or six seconds at the most, but you were red-faced and breathless by the time your eyes fluttered open, into his. Spencer’s smile was now a full-blown grin, and your expression mirrored his. “Yeah?” He asked, the word carrying more meaning. You’re into this, right? 

“Yeah,” you exhaled as Spencer dropped his hands from your face, but your hands remained on his torso, not wanting to step away just yet. The syllable meant more coming from you, too. I’m really, very much, super into this. Please, for the love of god, kiss me again. 

Spencer arched a brow ever so slightly, and you nodded your head. 

Just like a dance, Spencer’s hands moved to your waist, and at the same time, you slid yours around his neck. He backed you up, completely disregarding his jacket on the sidewalk, until you were flush against the brick wall belonging to the bar. The brisk October breeze ruffled through his hair and yours, yet, suddenly, neither of you were terribly concerned about the weather. 

He kissed you again, and this time it wasn’t as timid. Slowly, at first, his lips pressed against yours, and then his tongue darted out. It teased your lips in silent invitation, and you opened them to grant him access. His hands were everywhere, your hips, your hair, your face. You had moved your own down to his torso again. He coaxed the tiniest little mewl out of your throat, a completely uncontrollable and inevitable noise. 

Spencer’s low, gravelly groan reverberated through your mouth. Your hands gripped the bottom half of his shirt, balling it up in tight, white-knuckled fists. An unmistakable hardness brushed against your thigh. You were perfectly content to stay right there, pinned against the exterior wall of a D.C. bar, but the sound of a car honking its horn peeled Spencer off of you. 

His face was flushed and you released his shirt from your grasp. He let out a small grunt, stepping away from you to grab his jacket off the ground, wrinkling it haphazardly in his hand, holding it strategically over his middle. 

Oh, he liked you a lot. 

“You okay, Spence?” You asked all-knowingly, cocking your head to the side, leaning against the wall, lifting a foot to plant against it. 

Spencer shot a set of narrowed eyes at you, as if noting your smirk and storing it for later. “Yeah, I’m great,” he said, obviously struggling a little bit. His eyes quickly left yours and looked everywhere but at you. 

You didn’t want to embarrass him too much. So you just crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the sidewalk. But the smirk on your face wasn’t going away quite so easily. You considered briefly trying to talk to him about baseball or something to try and help him out, but you decided pointing it out would just humiliate him. Plus, it was a nice little ego boost, knowing you could get him like that with just a simple touch. 

He took a second, but he finally cleared his throat and met your gaze. You sucked your front teeth with your tongue and then bit your lip. “Want me to call an Uber?” You asked. 

Spencer just nodded, and you pushed yourself off the wall, stepping over to join him, digging your phone out of your pocket to order the car. “You okay?” You asked him again after submitting the request on your phone. Spencer’s face was still flushed, but he just nodded and reached for your hand. “Careful,” you warned, unable to resist the opportunity to tease him. “Don’t want you having an-“

“Shut up,” Spencer cut you off, and you snickered. 

——————————————————

You had never been in Spencer’s apartment before. It was unmistakably his, with stacks upon stacks of books in lieu of furniture. 

There was a sofa in his living room, along with a coffee table, a couple of lamps, and a television on a stand. The remaining space, besides a few spots here and there and a clear path with which to maneuver the room, was filled with books. 

You had never seen so many books in someone’s possession before. And sure, you were an avid reader yourself. But nothing like this. Your heart fluttered at the sight, not only because books simply just made you happy, but because it was an incredibly endearing detail about Spencer. Your Spencer. 

He shut and locked the door after you stepped inside, looking around with a childlike, awestruck grin. The TV had a thin layer of dust over the screen - he clearly didn’t use it often. And as you trailed a finger along the top of the nearest stack of books, you felt a pair of eyes watching your every move. 

You and Spencer had both been quiet in the Uber ride here. He had simply held your hand, swiping his thumb across the back of your palm every few seconds. You would occasionally meet his gaze, but then quickly, bashfully, look away, like the two of you were teenagers. 

It was so strange to think of what he had said to you - I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met. How had you not figured it out before now? 

You supposed you had been hiding your true feelings as well, so he was allowed to, too. 

There wasn’t any point in wishing to change the past, you reminded yourself. All you should be focusing on is right now. 

And right now, the street lamps peeked in through Spencer’s living room window, glinting off of his endless brown eyes and making them look like he had the moon in his irises. 

“So,” you said softly, not nearly as wicked as you had been when you were teasing him on the street by the bar. “This is where you live.” 

“Uh-huh,” Spencer bobbed his head, that awkward, straight-line smile crossing his face.

“Lot of books,” you pointed out. 

“Yep.” 

You arched a brow, a teasing smile crossing your face once again. “What’s with the monosyllabic conversation?” 

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side. “It’s just… really difficult to just stand here and not touch you,” he admitted, a sheepish smile crossing his face. 

You grinned. “You can touch me,” your voice dropped an octave, without you even really thinking about it. 

Spencer licked a canine with the tip of his tongue. God, that tongue. You remembered how he’d teased you less than an hour ago outside of the bar. “Maybe I will,” he shrugged, and you rolled your eyes. 

“You can’t really play it cool, right now, Spencer. Not when I just gave you a-“

“Please stop talking,” Spencer laughed, crossing the room and cupping your cheeks in his hands all in the same movement. You snickered and he kissed you and anything you might have been wanting to make fun of him for was forgotten about. 

You pressed your hands against his chest - holy pectorals, Batman - and craned your neck up so you could reach him. Spencer slid his own hands down your arms and to your hips, and you looped your arms around his neck. One palm flattened against the back of his head, holding him in place, fingers curling around pieces of his soft hair. 

Your heart was hammering away, and there was this aching, hot feeling that was pooling in your core and you all of a sudden felt hungry. Starving for Spencer, for every piece of him, for fully and finally crossing that line from friend to lover. An insatiable hunger for nearly every moment since you’d known him.

Finally you broke away from him, simply because oxygen was a necessity, and he rested his forehead against yours. Your eyes were still closed and your fingers ground into his scalp. “Look at me,” he requested, his voice low. 

Your eyes opened obediently and one of Spencer Reid’s hands curled under your chin. His face moved away from yours but his gaze was locked on yours, a pinpoint, a Northern Star. 

And when Spencer spoke again, your knees buckled. 

“I want you.”

Your mouth fell open, ever so slightly, and you nodded. “I want you, too,” you whispered. 

“Are you still…?” He asked, his eyes searching yours. You’d had three drinks earlier that evening, after all, but you’d polished the last one off nearly an hour ago. Maybe not fully sober, but sober enough to know what you wanted. 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. 

Spencer inclined his head to the side. “You’re sure? Can you pass a sobriety test?” 

You narrowed your eyes at him before you realized he was being sarcastic. You stepped back from him, shrugging off his hands, and extended your arms, touching your nose with your left hand, then your right. Spencer just laughed, and reached out for you, tugging you back to him. “Okay,” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your neck. You let him. “You’re fine, then?”

“I’m fine,” you agreed, shrugging him out of his sweater vest, and then reaching for the buttons on his shirt underneath. 

Spencer kissed your neck as you fumbled with the buttons - how were buttons suddenly impossible to undo? Your head craned back just slightly on instinct, wanting - needing - to allow Spencer more access. Your dexterity had become abysmal at this point, and Spencer’s lips were kissing your neck, down your throat, teasing at your collarbone. “Spencer,” you managed to groan out, a wave of annoyance present in your tone. 

“What?” he asked, pulling back, concern filling his face. 

You realized you had actually worried him. “Oh, no, no,” you waved it away, and he visibly relaxed. “I’m just really frustrated, because… because your shirt,” you stammered, and Spencer’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. 

“My shirt,” he stated. 

“That one, right here,” You laughed softly, curling your fingers around the buttons. You managed to wiggle one free, then another. Spencer leaned forward to continue kissing your neck, but you held a hand up to stop him. “Hang on,” you murmured, working through another button, and one more. “I’m concentrating.” 

“You’re sticking your tongue out,” Spencer snickered. Your eyes met his and your cheeks flushed.

“I’m concentrating!” Your voice rose slightly in self-defense. Spencer’s hands went to your hips. 

“It’s adorable,” he told you. “You make the same face at work. When you’re in the middle of filling out a form or trying to open a new bottle of coffee creamer without spilling it,” Spencer rubbed circles in your hips and your fingers stopped working again. 

“You noticed that kind of stuff?” You asked softly, looking up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer just nodded. “All the time.” 

I’ve had feelings for you since the day we met.

You inhaled sharply, finally undoing the last button.The skin beneath the shirt was pale, smooth, and perfect. And when he slid his arms through the sleeves and the shirt fell to the ground, you bit your lip, unable to help it. 

“Y/N?” 

You met Spencer’s gaze and let out this awkward little laugh. Embarrassing, really, if you hadn’t been in the company of your best friend. “You okay?” he asked, and you felt a little giddy as you nodded, moving your hands to his neck and standing on your toes to kiss him again. 

You didn’t know which direction the bedroom was in, so you just took a guess, pushing him back towards one of the doors. He kept his hands on your hips and his lips pressed against yours as he guided you, walking backwards, to the right door. You entered the bedroom and could not possibly be bothered to look around right now, not when Spencer was guiding you in a circle by merely touching your hips, not when the back of your knees hit what was unmistakably a mattress, not when you fell back against it. 

Your eyes were shut, unwilling to take in your surroundings as Spencer guided you onto your back. You toed off your shoes before lifting your legs, and Spencer hovered over you. Your lips were locked with his the entire time. And when you finally opened your eyes and you saw only Spencer, you grinned like a fool. 

Spencer’s fingers were like taking a shower. They were all over you - your hips, first, then your stomach, and you had to resist the urge to giggle because they tickled as he teased the bottom hem of your shirt up. You sat up slightly to get the blouse over your head and you watched him discard it onto the floor. And then his hands were over your chest, thumbs teasing under the wire of your bra, outlining the shapes of your breasts. 

Your breathing had gone heavy and staccato by this point, your body sinking into the mattress, shipwrecked as Spencer touched you. His eyes wandered over your and that little smile on his face was enough for you to know that he was immensely enjoying himself. 

“Can I…?” Spencer’s hands wandered down and gripped your pants as he looked into your eyes, a brow arched. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat and your blush appeared over your cheeks at the same time as his. “Yeah,” you whispered, and Spencer helped you wiggle out of your pants - black slacks, since you had gone straight from work to the bar. They were soon tossed to the floor, and you were only in your underwear and your bra. And Spencer’s brown eyes did not make you feel objectified or embarrassed, but safe. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he told you, seriously, and your breath hitched in your throat. 

“You-”

“I’m not done,” Spencer cut you off, lifting a hand to run his thumb down your chin. “You’re so beautiful. And you’re so kind, and smart, and funny. And I’d really like to show you how much I care about you,” he looked into your eyes as a sort of request. 

“I’m not on birth control,” You breathed out in response, feeling your cheeks redden for even bringing it up. Way to damper the mood. Still, you wanted to be responsible. “Do you have a c-”

Spencer’s soft smile turned into a wicked grin and he shook his head. “We’re not going to need one,” he promised, and after looking into his eyes for a moment, you understood. 

________________________________________

Spencer had thoroughly worshiped you, until you quaked and cried out with absolutely no thought to how thin his apartment walls might be. Usually, you didn’t allow yourself to be the center of attention for too long, but Spencer had insisted, and, well, you couldn’t very well deny him what he wanted, right? 

Covered in a thin sheen of sweat, your hair matted to the back of your neck, Spencer finally lay down beside you. Your breathing was just starting to come back to you as you turned on your side to face him. Spencer’s body mirrored yours, the tips of his fingers - those fingers - trailing up the side of your arm. “That was…” his voice was soft, gravelly, and he looked at you like you had anything to do with it. It was literally all him. “Incredible.” 

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out, unable to really focus on anything besides the curve of Spencer’s lips, the way the apples of his cheeks appeared when he smiled like this. Spencer kissed your lips, unlike any way he had before. All the other kisses tonight had been hungry and excited, exploratory and new. This one was lazy and slow and you let his tongue dance across yours, and when he finally pulled away, your nose scrunched up in delight. 

Your eyes traveled from his lips, down his neck, his collarbone, then back up, taking him in. The glow of his skin, the tired yet exhilarated look in his eyes. So different now than at the beginning of the night, when he’d looked at you with that slightly annoyed expression as you had tried to set him up with other women. You recalled how he had gone off to that group of three women right before you’d abandoned the bar, how he had struck out on purpose just to satiate your nagging. “What’d you say to those women tonight?” You asked him curiously, furrowing your brows at him. 

Spencer, in turn, arched his brows at you. “Why?” 

“Because I’m curious,” you said as his fingers continued to trail, feather-light, up and down your arm. You traced your thumb along his jawline, stopping at his chin. “You were obviously blowing it on purpose.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I actually do have some game, despite what Morgan might say,” he said, his tone defensive. 

You snickered. “Sure you do, Spence. Took you, what, eight months, to get me in your bed?” 

Spencer shot a playful glare at you and pinched the skin on your arm. You squeaked in response and he just laughed. “I just asked them how they were doing tonight,” he said finally, and you knew just from the look on his face that he was lying. 

“You did not,” you pushed back. “Come on, Reid, spill it.” 

“Ok, fine,” Spencer heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes, sitting up in the bed, his back against the headboard. You sat up, too, looking at him with concern. Why was he so embarrassed? “I told them… Jesus.” Spencer rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb and his forefinger. “I told them I was here with a coworker that I had a massive crush on, and that you were trying to set me up with someone else,” he began. 

You started to smile. 

Spencer continued. “I told them that I had absolutely no interest in going home with anyone tonight, and that I had been purposefully striking out all night long because I couldn’t stand the thought of even trying to look at someone the way I look at you.” 

Your smile grew and you moved to sit on your knees, inching closer to Spencer and throwing one leg over him, effectively straddling him against the mattress. “So I asked them,” Spencer continued, his lips turning slowly from an exasperated frown to a small smile. “I asked them if they could just look at me like I had said something stupid, and then I would leave them alone.” 

“Did they say anything to that?” You asked as Spencer’s hands found your hips, contouring to match the curves into the small of your back. 

Spencer’s voice got slightly lower, more serious, when he said, “The girl in the middle did. She said ‘that girl definitely has feelings for you, too’. And then they did what I asked, and I walked back over to you.” 

“She did not say that,” you rolled your eyes, just as Spencer kissed your lips. 

“I have an eidetic memory, Y/N,” he reminded you in a low whisper, as his lips lingered against yours. “Would I lie to you about that?” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfics #spencer reid x you #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader

[angelltheninth]

If you don't mind... Could I request for Astral express men + Penacony men (minus Gallagher pls) with a s/o who is VERY sensitive to any form of physical affection?

Like if he kisses their s/o, they flinch and blush profusely but don't hate it? And they feel it very electrifying every time they touch? 🍮

🍮🍮

That's just me, I melt at affection.

Pairing: Aventurine, Boothill, Caelus, Dan Heng, Sunday, Veritas Ratio, Welt x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, kissing, being flustered, teasing, PDA

A/N: We could all you a bit more affection.

Aventurine absolutely teases you about it. "You gotta build up that tolerance." he says while pulling you to his side, one arm thrown over your shoulders and a mischievous smirk on his lips. Being in public will be good for you, being in his charismatic company, perhaps you even pick up a few things. "How about this, for every game I win I get a kiss. Don't think of them as kisses, more as rewards for your lucky boyfriend."

Boothill is mostly the only one who will see you in this state, flustered, almost panicking. "Damn, all that just from a lil' kiss? How ya gonna handle me doin' more than that I wonder." As he leans in once more, his sharp teeth licked by his tongue you instantly back away and right against his strong arms. "Running from me eh, not on my watch, running is my thing." He dips you down and slowly brings his lips to yours, sighing when you return it.

Caelus gets shy too so he's not one to judge someone else for doing the same. "I like that shy side of you, reminds me of myself. May not seem like it but I freak out about you kissing me all the time." He offers you his hand and when you take it he gives you a big hug, waiting until you relax against him. "We can take things slowly. I'm here for you."

Dan Heng thinks it's a human thing that you react in such a way. To him it's not odd, it's rather endearing. "I would never tease you for those reactions, my darling. Are they embarrassing for you?" He doesn't understand why but he won't push you to tell him until you're ready for it. Can't hold back from kissing you regardless, "If I keep telling you you're cute maybe you it can be easier." The smile he gives you is enough to make you flustered all over again.

Sunday hides your flustered face from anyone who might be around you. "No one will see you, it's alright. I apologize if I crossed a boundary and made you uncomfortable. I won't kiss you like that again." That's not what you want at all but you're too shy to say it now, you wait until you're alone. "Now you want a kiss. Ah, I understand, not in public then." Kisses will happen only in private.

Veritas Ratio repeats the same kiss again, he wants to make sure you'd react in the same way as before. "Does my kiss cause you to be come so embaressed? Yet, I can tell you enjoy it. Let's try it again, one more time." Being smart doesn't help him in this case, there's no way you can tell him not to kiss you, you welcome it ever time but when it looks like he's not stopping you wrap your arms around him to stop him from doing it again, "Had enough of me already?"

Welt thinks he's done something wrong when you pull back so suddenly. "I'm sorry, was that not okay? I've noticed you always pull back when I kiss you." It takes a lot to explain to him that it's not his fault, it's the way you are with any kind of physical affection he gives you, surely he noticed. "So that's what that was. I was under the impression I was making you uncomfortable. I'm glad that's not the case.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #aventurine x reader #boothill x reader #caelus x reader #dan heng x reader #sunday x reader #veritas ratio x reader #welt x reader #honkai star rail imagines #hsr imagines #honkai star rail headcanons #hsr headcanons #honkai star rail fluff #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #aventurine fluff #boothill fluff #caelus fluff #dan heng fluff #sunday fluff #veritas ratio fluff #welt fluff #x reader

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Werewolf Headcanons

I've been stalked by the guilty feeling that my Romanian Werewolf boy got a lot of backstory but not much romance or interaction. So there you have it: some headcanons featuring the ancient Beast, a post-kidnapping sequel.

Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, monster romance, mild NSFW at the end, ridiculously older yandere

You followed the gargantuan stranger back into the city, leaving the bloodbath behind as if it was just a distant dream. Admittedly, you’d expected to be dragged into some mountainous cave or an abandoned mansion, not the cozy - albeit a little dusty - apartment on a main, historical street. On second thought, he did function as a human outside of his monstrous escapades, so it made sense. “Is this your place?”, you sheepishly asked while he wiped the thick layers of blood off him. “One of them, yes”, he answered curtly. “It’s central”, you remarked, trying to make conversation. “Well, I didn’t know about it back then. It’s been a few decades.”

Your ears perked up at the words. Gazing at his features, he didn’t seem necessarily aged to you. The deep creases contouring his face felt more like a sign that he’s lived sorrows beyond most people’s comprehension. “How old are you?” You finally asked as curiosity replaced your initial fear. He abruptly stopped his movements and leaned back, brows furrowed in deep contemplation. “I’m not so sure anymore. I was born in the 80s”, he concluded. “That’s not too far back, is it?” You inquired, this time more relaxed. “80 BC, I meant. You do the math.”

He freshened himself up as you counted the millennia on your fingers, frowning in confusion. He chuckled at your intense focus, then quickly looked up into the mirror. When was the last time he smiled like this? The reflection was a foreign sight to him. “We’ll get you everything you need tomorrow”, he continued, still in a daze. What a strange idea, having someone to speak to after an eternity. And suddenly, it occurred to him just how rusted his communication had gotten: “I’m so sorry, I haven’t asked for your name once”, he said, embarrassed. “It’s (Y/N). And you are...?" Might as well introduce yourself to your benevolent captor.

The dreaded question. How did they call him back in the day? He hasn't had anyone spell it out for him, nor did he feel the need at any point to say it himself. Why would he? He hadn't anticipated meeting you. With pursed lips, he searched his mind. Eventually, from the depths or memories, from days of yore, it made its way back: "Daos."

Given your first gory encounter (where he quite literally murdered everyone else), you were surprised to find out he's otherwise a calm and polite individual. Well, he's had centuries to mature, you suppose. You've also noticed he has that rather old-fashioned chivalry to him. He's very attentive despite his stoic demeanor, and often follows with acts of service.

"You're insulting me. I can carry this myself with ease", you'll argue. "I never doubted you can. Nonetheless, it is my wish to do it for you."

As the days pass, your reluctance seems to vanish as well. In fact, you've become particularly cheeky, encouraged by his warm, unperturbed behavior. Maybe you haven't gotten the worst deal out there, after all.

"You know, you talk like an old man", you've teased him once. He was visibly taken aback by your statement, and you could discern a faint blush on his face. "Do I? My apologies, I haven't spoken to anyone in a long time. I'm not familiar with modern speech. Have I embarrassed you somehow?"

He spends his free time reading, though he will frequently take you on walks. It's an interesting affair to say the least. You can feel the curious eyes of the passersby and hear their not-so-discreet whispered gossip. You can't truly blame them: Daos is enormous even as a human. He towers above everyone else with his imposing appearance. To match, his voice is deep and coarse as a result of not using it much until recently.

The ancient werewolf is a living history book. If asked, he will narrate to you important events or details you might be curious about regarding his culture. Once, when he'd been in a good mood, he even shared fragments of his life before turning into a creature. He'd been a high-ranked Dacian warrior, spending his days training or fighting. He still remembers the flag he carried with bitter fondness, yet another irony to his fate: a wolf-headed serpent. It was meant to showcase their way of life; barbarians with no fear of death. They'd greeted the Roman Empire with nothing but a sword and a shield, no shred of doubt.

He might've been betrayed by his people, but the pride remains. The pride of a soldier who's never known defeat. You learned quickly that his beastly form doesn't count as a significant change by any means, save for appearances. The man has brute strength even as a human. You'd once strayed from his view, and a stranger approached with a daring whistle, gawking you up and down. Before you could react, Daos clawed him by the throat. You heard the twist of the skin and the creak of the bones giving in to the immense pressure of his large hand.

"It's the second time I have exposed you to such unpleasant sights", he said, discarding the body as if it was any other garbage. "Forgive me, but I will not have you disrespected like this."

He is very much aware he's taken you away from the world out of his own selfish desire. The fact that you accepted it is more than he could ever ask for. That's what he keeps telling himself, even as his eyes wander to your lips whenever you speak. Or as his hand lingers a moment too long against the curve of your back. Or as he hungrily takes in your scent whenever you're nearby.

He might be unhealthily possessive of you, but Daos will never do anything against your will. No matter how obvious his urges are. In fact, no amount of flirting or teasing will shake his resolve. You will have to be very direct with your approval.

Once the reality settles in, he'll become extremely affectionate, bordering on obsessive. To think he could have you in every way possible. Oh, he's waited thousands of years for you. All the suffering, the loneliness, the anger, they're stripped of any meaning now that he has you.

The city strolls at an awkward distance have since become a habitual excuse to hold your hand and show you off to the mortals. The quiet evenings of passing time with a book now include your merely noticeable weight cuddled into his lap. You didn't expect him to be this adoring. Being touch-starved for millennia counts as one reason, naturally, but there's more to it, so much more. And it all leads back to you.

He is a little taken aback when you ask him to do the deed in his werewolf form. "Don't be foolish. I can't overcome my instincts as well when I'm a creature. I could harm you", he'll lecture you. "Besides, you can barely take it as it currently is", he'll add, smirking at your baffled expression. It seems he's picked up on your cheekiness.

After a lot of pleading and waiting for the right moment - when he's ravaging you in a daze - he finally agrees. True to his word, his tune instantly changes. The tender hold turns into a desperate grasp sinking into your skin, and the thrusts become irregular, almost frantic. His drool cools your burning cheeks as you hold onto the coarse fur, feverish and overwhelmed.

His golden eyes rest on the small human squirming underneath him, and suddenly, he can't help but notice: you have the perfect birthing hips.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere werewolf #werewolf x reader #monster x reader #monster x human #monster romance #yandere headcanons #male yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut #monster smut #monster boyfriend

[prettygiri222]

Wax

Summary: You tell your boyfriend you got waxed by a man…

Eren x Black Fem Reader SMUT

"Eren!" you called out as you entered his room. he looked up at you with his low red eyes making your heart skip a beat. you were already regretting your decision but you were going to power through. you gave him a little twirl, "notice anything different?"

you saw a trend on TikTok where girls would tell their boyfriends they got a wax done and you wanted to try it. you hesitated knowing Eren he could flip but your friends convinced you to do it.

Eren's eyes trailed over your body stopping at your ass that hung out of your miniskirt. "that ass getting fatter ma? shittt i've been feeding you good." he said as he licked his lips before making eye contact.

you turned around to look at it in the mirror. "i've been hitting the gym with Mikasa and Annie. i ain't even noticed the gains."

"cmere lemme touch it." Eren took a hit off his blunt motioning for you to come sit on his lap. if you didn't actually get a wax today you would've sat on something else. but it was now or never.

you walked over to Eren not missing the way his eyes watched as you purposely swayed your hips. "no, I got waxed." you said placing your foot on his lap.

"you’re so smooth." Eren started rubbing all up on your leg. "everywhere?" he asked as he trailed his hand up higher looking you in the eye.

"baby oil and cocoa butter, love." you said before giving him a nod. a smile graced Eren's lips as he pulled you down so you were straddling him.

"we can't do anything for at least 24 hrs…" you whined out onto his shoulder. "but that's not the point." you said as you shot up. you moved to the bed to create some space between you two, Eren rolled his eyes.

he picked up his phone but signaled to you that he was still listening.

"so I went to get a brazilian today and my regular lady wasn't there so they gave me someone else and honestly, i like them a bit more. they were getting all in there, like really in there and it didn't hurt as much. plus the guy was so ni-" Eren's head shot up.

"hold on ma, did you just say a 'guy?'" he put down his phone and looked into your wide eyes with his red ones. 

"y-yea he did a great job…" the wall behind Eren suddenly became very interesting to look at.

"nah, i don't think i'm hearing you right." Eren sat up in his chair with his jaw clenched. "a man waxed you?”

"yes."

"you let a man touch you down there? see you naked."

"it's his job Eren."

"nah you pissing me off right now ma. you let another man touch your pussy and you telling me you're fine with it?" eren moved so he could look deep into your eyes causing you to flinch. you could see his anger building up and it frightened you. 

he was always so quick to anger, especially around Jean, you can't say how many times they got physical. but he's never yelled at you much less put his hands on you but you didn't know what he would do now. he was unsettlingly quiet. you only nodded afraid you would get on your knees and beg him for forgiveness but a small part of you wanted to push him even further.

Eren surprised you as he started laughing, he rubbed his tattooed hand all over his face looking at you through his fingers. "you expect me to believe you let a man wax when you still get so shy when I say 'pussy'."

you looked away from him, if your skin was any lighter he would've been able to see you blush. "well he said I had the prettiest 'pussy' he ever saw. gave me his number to hit him up if my boyfriend didn't satisfy me enough." you were shy but you weren’t a pushover.

Eren took a big hit off his blunt before blowing the smoke in your face."ass up, face down ma." you quickly regretted your words.

"Eren wait-"

“ass up. face down. now!" Eren's never talked to you like that, he was always so sweet and nice to you. but right now he was so demanding, it was kinda hot. 

you quickly moved to position, making sure your back had a nice arch in it before looking back at Eren with a pout. "Eren we can't…"

"mmhm." he mumbled ignoring your eyes. he pushed up your skirt and delivered a slap to your clothed heat.

"Eren!" you cried out in shock, you shoved your face into the sheets in embarrassment. you've never done this before. you and Eren were vanilla so far because you were a virgin up till a few weeks ago. this was something new and you kinda liked it.

"head up ma, you had a lot to say right? said you'd fuck your waxer cause i wasn't good enough?" he said grabbing your butterfly locs. they were about a week old so they weren't as tight but his grip still hurt. but you were coming to understand that you liked a little bit of pain. "lemme hear it."

eren planted a firm slap against your ass. "ah! It hurts!” Eren gave you another hard slap causing you to jerk forward. you heard him kiss his teeth before you were pulled down to the end of the bed.

“this not gon work.” he said as he maneuvered you so you were bent over his lap. “you keep lying to me, ‘s like you trying to get me mad on purpose ma. you like it when I’m angry?” Eren asked as he delivered another slap to your bare ass. your dark skin was starting to bruise.

how’d he know? you weren’t that bad of a liar. “i was the one who set up and paid for your appointments ma, they would’ve told me if there was a change.” oh, right. you brought your hands to cover your face in embarrassment. 

“m sorry” you whispered.

“if you really got waxed by a man, i can’t tell you what would’ve happened.” Eren let out a bitter laugh looking at his dresser. it brought your attention to the gun Eren kept tucked in his pants when he went out. he always placed it in his top draw when he came home not wanting you to see it but you knew about it. it made you shiver thinking about him using it on someone. “but don’t worry you’ll be sorry. count to 10.”

“10 wha- ow!” Eren raised his hand high and brought it down on your ass making you jump. you reached back to grab his hand but he just slapped it away

“you run, lose count or complain and you start over from one.” he spanked you again watching as your ass rippled. you let out whine, you weren’t used to Eren being so mean to you but you were soaked. each slap sent a new wave of tingles to your core. 

“how many are we at now baby?” Eren asked in that sweet voice he always spoke to you in. 

“9.” you sobbed out. you don’t even know when you started crying and whether it was from the pain or the neglect of your core.

“think you can take one more?” despite being so mad at you it made your heart swell at how nice he was still being. he messaged your ass while waiting for the answer.

“yea…” he delivered one more slap but he directed it toward your clothed heat, fingers coming in contact with your clit, “ohhh fuckkk!” your body started to convulse as you felt pure bliss.

“fuck ma… did you just come from me spanking you?” Eren breathlessly asked as he placed you beside him, you winced at the contact. you nodded as you hid your face in his shoulder. “that’s my good girl.”

#aot x black reader #x black reader #anime smut #aot smut #aot x reader #aot #eren yeager #eren x reader #eren aot #eren smut #eren x black reader #eren x black y/n #black y/n #black reader smut

[lucyandthepen]

salted caramel | lmh ( m )

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

read the first part here!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Today is no exception.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fucking impossible!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh…” you say smartly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s that mean?”

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

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

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

“Meaning?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s happening to me next time?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then I’ll teach you next time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gotta study all the same.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bingo.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

“If… who’s right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d take it if you were with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Just promise me.”

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

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

On the third time, Mark pretty much gives up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would if I could.”

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

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

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

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

“So come to class and write it yourself!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d you get probation for, then?”

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

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

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

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

“You doing that too?”

“Shut — please, would you hurry?”

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

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

“Nothing. You’re lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about yours?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then why are you—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this even about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No kidding.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s on your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What does that have to do with me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop doing that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A mouth made for you to kiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you not want to?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At least give me a full minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s… still a no for me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want to hear it anyway.”

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

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

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

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

“Mark, what—”

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

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

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

“What’s your passcode?”

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

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

“What’s funny?”

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

“To what?” He sounds bemused.

“The view of me you have now.”

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

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

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

“With my life.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Hyuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m doing it right now.”

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

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

“Mark, I…. I’ve been— s-since—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“His cock fucking me in my stomach.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I already am.”

#mark x reader #mark x you #mark smut #mark scenario #mark scenarios #mark imagine #mark imagines #mark drabble #mark drabbles #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 x you #nct x you #nct x reader #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct scenario #nct drabble #nct drabbles #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 drabbles #nct 127 imagines

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT-

A oneshot where the rest of the hazbin crew finding out that Alastor already owned Reader's soul?! Fluff btw!

Like like

"Some overlord owns your soul?? Who?!"

Reader: "hahaha.. I wonder who.."

Husk: "you don't wanna know."

Alastor sipping his tea on the other side of the room (obviously listening in)

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

[ SFW ] + [ FLUFF ] [ SLIGHT LANGUAGE WARNING ]

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxx xxxxxxx xxxxxxx

The Hotel was abuzz with life; Charlie rushed around checking in with everyone as they worked on various tasks, and said occupants tried their best to focus amid her constant scurrying.

The Princess of Hell had decided a Grand Opening event would benefit the Hotel.

You didn’t think it was half a bad idea, recently a resident of the newly improved establishment yourself and a sinner with a rare knack for helping others. The promise of redemption did seem silly to you, but the idea was fresh, and you desired to see if it was possible before completely disregarding the Princess’s dream.

You gave a helping hand whenever asked, smiled as kind as ever, and had a genuine nature subtly, inviting the others closer into your friendly aura.

Angel referred to you often as the “sweetest doll in the shop,” poking fun at your generous endeavors, but truly a fan of your presence nonetheless. Vaggie came to you for advice often, needing a calmer voice of reason when Charlie’s overbearing tendencies became too much for her, and you’d give your time graciously. Husk and Niffty, you knew all too well before you arrived at the Hotel, generally comfortable in their company and able to enjoy a drink with them occasionally.

Everyone cherished you in one way or another, which showed significantly in their approach to you.

Angel, as vulgar as he was, tended not to tease you as often as the others. Though there were times he couldn’t resist a good jab at your modesty, amused by how quickly you blushed while attempting to stutter out an equally snarky remark.

The two of you were at it now, taunting one another while giving a once over of the hotel's new advertisement flyers, but your focus was nowhere near the polished posters as you tried to retort Angel's last statement. He’d made another comment about your avoidance of the hotel's resident facilities manager.

Alastor…

The mere sound of his name made you skittish and visibly flustered, and Angel took notice of said reactions very quickly. “You sleepin’ around with him, aren’t ya toots?…” He snickered as you froze up, ears fluttering down as your eyes widened in his direction, “N-no!? Angel…you shouldn’t say things like that!” You puffed your cheeks out, the tip of your ears turning bright red as the spider demon cackled across from you, “Hah! You aren’t denying it either, doll face, so now I know it’s true!..”

“No, it’s not Angel!…” you grumbled childishly, glancing around the room apprehensively as if the overload would emerge from the shadows at any moment, and he very well could…

However, Alastor remained hidden, shadow lingering on an armchair in the dimmest corner of the room, and his attention fully fixed on your exchange with the raunchy spider as it progressed.

The deer demon was intrigued by the interaction, mildly curious about how you’d handle Angels prying, and quietly prideful of his effect on you.

“You can’t fool me toots. I see how you look at ‘em’ when he’s in a room. He breathes, and you’re a mess! It’s actually kinda cute how much you like him!” You glared at Angel, ears standing straight as you seethed at him, “I. Don’t. Like. Him…”

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward with a coy smirk, “Really? So it’s just a coincidence you get all nervous around him but do everything he says without question?… “ Angel was unfazed by the quiet growl you responded with, “That doesn’t mean I fancy him-“

“Okay, so how else would you explain it then?” Angel sat back, arms folding over his chest and torso as he peered at you expectantly.

By this point, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk were listening to the rift between you two. Although, Husk lost notable interest when he realized the subject of discussion while the others subconsciously chimed in without warning.

“He’s right, though..” Vaggie stared at you intensely, trying to piece together clues you swore weren’t there, to begin with, and Charlie soon joined her in the friendly interrogation. “Did you know Alastor before you came here or something? You do act a little off when he’s around…”

For the love of Satan!

Why couldn’t they just let it go?!?

You huffed and hung your head, agitated with so much attention being thrown onto you and becoming uncomfortable under pressure.

The matter of your soul belonging to Alastor was a subject you weren’t fond of breaching for several reasons.

1. Everyone would want to know why and how the arrangement occurred.

2. You were afraid they’d look at you differently, as less than worthy of being treated as a friend or reduced to being Alastor’s property and nothing else…

In reality, you meant much more to the overload than that, but no sinner needed to know such a thing, and to an extent, you weren't aware of his affection either.

Alastor preferred it that way.

It gave the overlord a vague thrill to leave you clueless about his infatuation while enjoying the way you couldn’t hide your adoration for him…

He chuckled to himself watching you squirm under the group's collective curiosity, admiring the deep rose color that set into your cheeks as you pouted.

Precious little thing…

The stag’s grin grew as the thought settled in his mind, eyes hooding over as a hum filled his chest, and though the sound was quiet, you still heard it.

He was there.

In the same room.

Waiting and watching…

Fantastic…

A small groan fell from your lips as you lifted your head, gaze shifting around the room to pinpoint where Alastor was, but there was no trace of him…

Or so you thought…

“My, my, you all are a nosy bunch! Leave the poor dear alone …” Alastor appeared behind you, mic in one hand while the other came to rest on your head.

He petted your hair softly, silently comforting your frazzled state, and you welcomed the gesture with a soft sigh.

Angel raised a brow at the sight, gaze shifting from your content expression to Alastor’s satisfied one as he caressed your ears. “See, this is what I was talking about. You act as if he owns you or something-“

Alastor whipped his head in Angel's direction, startling him and the others a bit as he interjected the observation. “That’s because I do own her, my good man. Mind. Body. & Soul…” The air grew thick with static, an uneasy wave of tension drowning the hotel lobby as Alastor glared daggers at everyone.

However, you still sat obediently under his touch without anxiety clouding your demeanor.

Charlie laughed nervously while Vaggie’s eyes widened as the revelation dawned on them both. Angel's mouth fell open, and Husk grumbled before rolling his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious…” the winged feline mumbled to no one in particular, refocusing on organizing the bar's alcohol arrangement as the conversation carried on.

“A-Alastor owns your soul?” Charlie asked, clearly shocked but actively masking it with a light-hearted tone. You nod slowly, choosing not to speak as his claws scratch behind your ears tenderly.

Vaggie shrugged, “Now, it makes sense…”

Angel finally clasped his mouth shut, stifling a laugh as he leaned further back into the parlor's sofa. “So I was right!” He shouted triumphantly, which earned a side glare from you. “Oh, shut up! Just because he owns my soul doesn’t mean I like him…”

Alastor gave you a quizzical look, humming thoughtfully as he processed your words, “Is that so, my dear?… You feel nothing for me at all?…”

Oh….maybe I shouldn’t have said that-!

Your mind raced to find a suitable reply, but all you could manage was a shaky laugh. “W-well, I wouldn’t say…’n-nothing’…”

His smile grew, “Would you like to elaborate on your true feelings for me in private, then?…”

“Sounds kinky…” Angels mumbled cheekily while flashing a closed-eye smirk, but neither Alastor nor you offered the remark a response.

“Wait, where’d they go?!..” The spider demon sat up pin straight as he realized you two were no longer in the room. The only sign left of your disappearance was the lingering tufts of black shadows swirling the spot he’d seen you and Alastor occupying a moment ago.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, turning on her heel to return to the task she’d left undone moments ago, “Not my business…” she sighed.

Charlie followed after her, stuck between confusion and giddiness over the newfound information, “I would’ve never thought Y/n belonged to Alastor. Wait, do you think she can still be redeemed, or are there strings attached…?”

Her rambling continued on as everyone found themselves busy again.

Everyone except you and Alastor…

You found yourself all alone with the owner of your soul, hidden in his infamous Radio Tower with the beginnings of a confession poised to slip from your tongue as he sat you in his lap.

“Now, I believe you were going to tell me exactly how you feel, darling….” Alastor lowered his head, hands resting on your waist to keep you flush against his chest, and your heart nearly flew from your chest as he did.

“You have my full attention, sweetheart.”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx

I rewrote this five times….all because of writer's block :( ❤️ someone please send help -I'm hanging on by a thread rn…

[ NO BONUS CONTENT - ]

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor hartfelt #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin vaggie #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor x you #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #angel dust #charlie morningstar #vaggie #husker hazbin hotel

[vivwritesfics]

Just need need need a fix abt giving bf!Landon a bracelets that is literally just a bra strap and he wears it to the Ausgp and at first no one notices cz he wears so many bracelets anyway!! And then Oscar is the first to notice and he thinks it’s cute but still makes fun of him for it haha. And then the internet finds out and Lando and reader just cuddle in bed together laughing bc the internet thinks they’re insane/ freaky.

bf coded lando is my favourite lando

"It's bwoken!"

Lando had heard that far too many times since their relationship had started. Any time something in their apartment broke, she'd shout it. At first he rolled his eyes, but he had come to love it.

He stood from his rig and walked into their bedroom. "What is it this time?" He asked as he sat on the bed and looked at her.

With her bra fastened, holding her boobs in place, she showed him the strap. It had snapped away from the back of the bra, handing down off the front.

It was maybe the oldest bra she owned,. She'd had it before she and Lando started dating, when they were just fucking. She'd worn it the first time they were together, back when it was actually nice. Now it served as a reminder of where she and Lando had come from. She kept it out of sentimental reasons.

But now it was broken, and she was so fucking upset about it. "Love," Lando said as though she was being ridiculous. But he saw the pout on her face and opened his arms. "C'mere."

She collapsed into his arms and he unclasped her bra. "We can frame it, if you want," he said, and she slapped his arm.

"Lan, we're not framing my bra," she said as she pulled away from him and dropped the bra into the bed. She got changed into another, grabbed the broken one, and took it to the kitchen.

They had the sewing kit in there. Neither of them were meant to be seamstresses, but they had the kit there in case the needed it. It seemed now, they did.

Lando went back to the sim as she sat at the kitchen table. She used the stitch picker to cleanly get the strap away from the bra. They were going to keep it, at least a part of it.

Lando couldn't help but wonder what she was doing while he raced on the sim. But, even with his mind somewhere else, he was still doing incredibly clean laps.

Maybe ten minutes later she came running into the room. "Hold your hand out," she said as she strode towards him.

Lando did as she asked. He paused mid race and held out his arm towards her. She slid whatever it was onto his wrist and tightened it. As soon as she let go, Lando held it towards his face. "Is this..."

"The broken bra strap? Yeah," she said.

Lando grinned. He grabbed a hold of her and pulled her closer, kissing her quickly. "I love it," he said. "I'll never take it off."

And Lando didn't take it off. Even when the F1 season started, he was still wearing it. Nobody noticed at first. Well, maybe their were a few comments online, but they were overshadowed by comments about his facial hair.

But then Oscar picked up on it.

It was the middle of an interview when Oscar saw it, the red strap highlighted against the microphone. "What the hell is that?" Oscar asked, tapping the microphone against the 'bracelet'.

Lando blushed red and looked at his shoes, the brim of his hat shielding his eyes from the camera. He cleared his throat, steadied himself and held the microphone back to his lips. "My girlfriend made it for me."

Oscar, who hadn't forgetten the 'girlfriend' comment from before the season had started. He grinned as he held his microphone up. He had one, single word for Lando.

"Simp"

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader smut #lando norris x you #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

[rafeandonlyrafe]

new follower

words: 1.4k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, male receiving oral, p in v sex, unprotected sex

rafe doesn’t follow many people on social media. topper, kelce, a few of his other country club friends, and you. 

the notification shocked you when you woke up one morning and saw that rafe cameron followed you back. you knew him decent enough, mostly through being friends of friends, with rafe being a year ahead of you when you were in school.

you assumed it was a mistake, he was scrolling his recent notifications maybe and accidentally clicked your follow button. you waited for him to realize and unfollow you, but it never happened, not even after a week passed.

“did you see?” you answer your friends call. rafe not only didn’t unfollow you, but he just liked and commented on your picture.

“holy shit. holy shit. holy shit.” stephanies excited voice rings out from the other side of the line, obviously having seen the recent development. “girl, he wants you.” “coming to the party this friday?” you say the message out loud, having already memorized it. you haven’t responded yet, not wanting to seem too crazy by immediately screaming yes. “i mean what else could that mean?” 

“girl, you are getting dicked DOWN at that party.”

--

you tug at rafes zipper, having already undone the button. you know you're moving too fast, should slow down and savor the moment as you sink to your knees.

“mmm, baby, you don't have to.” rafe reaches his hand down to pull you back up, but you already tugged at his pants, lowering them to his thighs so just his underwear is left covering his dick, obviously already hard and straining against the fabric.

“i want to.” you clarify, leaning in and kissing along his length until you reach the head of his cock, suckling at it through the material, wetting it with your mouth.

rafe is just as big as you thought he would be, you can tell just from wrapping your lips around him, making you even more excited to get him inside of you.

“fuck.” rafe groans. “quit teasing me, pretty.”

you smile at rafes compliment, pulling his underwear down, his cock pushing free, standing upright against his body. rafe groans as the cold bathroom air hits his cock, pressing his back even harder into the wall.

you waste no time, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, pausing for a moment to enjoy the taste before you begin to bob your head, unable to take him all the down, but getting pretty damn close before your gag reflex forces you to pull off.

“god, you're just as good as i imagined you'd be.” rafe moans, hands gripping your hair.

“you imagined this?” you ask, pulling away to blink up at rafe through your lashes.

“yeah.” rafe smirks. he's got no shame about being attracted to you. it's rare for a girl to truly capture his attention, especially for any period of time longer than a one night stand.

“oh.” you blush, wanting to know more details as you grasp his cock, stroking it to still give him some stimulation. “before or after you followed me?”

“after. can't believe i never noticed you in high school. your photo popped up in my discover and… god, you're just so pretty.”

“did you touch yourself to me?” you ask, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them.

“you would like it if i did, wouldn’t you dirty girl?” rafe smirks, not giving you a chance to confirm that you really would like it as he pushes your head back down. you allow rafe to control your movements, keeping your mouth open as his cock pushes down your throat.

you swallow around his length, excited to tell all your friends about sucking rafe off in the bathroom at the party, especially stephanie, who you know can’t be far.

“god, i need your cunt. come on.” rafe tugs at your hair.

“yeah, yeah.” you nod, giving one last kiss to the tip of rafes cock before standing.

“turn around.” rafe moves you towards the sink, having you face the mirror. he smirks when you realize you’re watching him in the reflection as he pushes your dress up until your underwear is revealed, having chosen a cute thong specifically for rafe to see.

“jesus, you’re gonna kill me.” rafe groans, hands gripping your ass, feeling your plump flesh in his hands.

“yeah?” you smirk, leaning forward and placing your hands on the marble counter to shake your bum slightly from side to side. 

“too hot, i swear.” he groans, about to pull your underwear to the side when theres a knock on the bathroom door, making you both jump, forgetting that there was still an entire party going on.

“fucking occupied!” rafe shouts. “fuck off!”

you laugh at rafes yelling, listening to whoever knocked walk away, footsteps moving down the hallway.

“jesus.” he groans. “i should take you home before we fuck.” “what, not gentlemanly to take me for the first time in a bathroom?” you laugh.

“you’re not funny. i’m serious.” rafe pouts. “i like you, let me take you back to tanneyhill.” you turn around, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. you lean forward, pressing your lips against rafes. its flattering that he wants to take you someplace more private, but you’re honestly not sure you can wait.

you reach between your bodies with both hands, moving your thong to the side while guiding rafes cock towards you entrance. you move the head of his cock through your folds, letting out a moan against his lips when you push it against your clit.

“alright, alright, shit.” rafe moans, “i’ll fuck you now.”

“good.” you smirk. “you can fuck me at tanneyhill later too.”

“oh yeah?” rafe laughs, pushing your hands away to take control, placing his hands on your hips as he sinks his cock into your entrance, moving slowly to let you adjust. “just can’t get enough of this cock, huh?” you let out a moan, gripping rafes shoulders as he stays seated inside you, pushing on your walls the perfect amount. 

“move. move, its okay.” you mumble. 

“god, i need a second too pretty girl.” rafe takes a deep breath, trying to control himself from absolutely ravaging you and cumming far too early. 

you laugh, cupping rafes jaw with your hands, tugging him close for a kiss. it gives him a moment to settle before he starts to move, cock pushing in and out of your cunt, a wet squelching sound filling the bathroom with every movement.

rafe has one hand gripping your hip while the other slides to your back, keeping you from leaning backwards against the mirror, chest pressed against his.

“let me see your tits, baby.” rafe asks, looking down the top of your dress at your cleavage. you nod, tugging at the front of your dress, pulling it down so your chest is revealed, having forgone a bra. rafe smirks as he looks down, breasts bouncing every time he thrusts into you.

“so hot.” he groans, managing to duck his head to kiss over the swell of your breast while keeping his cock pushing into you. “touch yourself for me.”

rafe picks his head up to press a kiss to your lips before leaning back, looking between your bodies while you start with your tits, cupping one and jiggling it to show off to rafe before playing with your own nipples, switching to the other side.

“your cunt, come on. let me see how you touch yourself.” rafe knows he can't last much longer, needing you to get yourself off since his hands are occupied keeping you in place on the counter.

you sink your hand lower, ruffling over the scrunched up dress until you reach your pussy, sinking lower to gather some of your wetness from where rafe is pumping into you. you glide back up to your clit, rubbing it with two fingers in the way you do when you get yourself off.

“oh, fuck.” rafe groans as you clench around his length. “you're trying to kill me baby.”

“cum inside me.” you whimper. “please.”

“yeah.” rafe nods. “cant last.” you can tell from the way rafes cock swells inside of you that he's close.

“come on.” you begin to grind your hips up and down. “give it to me.”

rafe let's out a strangled moan, half sounding like your name, half sounding like a curse as he cums, pushing his cock as deep inside of you as possible, triggering your own orgasm as you let out a squeal, back arching into him as your fingers slow on your clit.

“fuck, that was good.” you pant, body flopping forward to lean your forehead against rafes shoulder.

“fuck yeah it was.” rafe laughs, carefully pulling his softening cock out of you. he takes your chin in his hand, picking your head up to press a kiss to your lips. “now when can we do that again?”

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[a-hazbin-reader]

Gods I just have the funniest idea ever!

Can you do where Alastor will just do the most demonic, cannibalistic and brutal things ever (that even Lucifer was convinced that this mf CANNOT be redeem) but wifey was just sighing, heart eyes and goes 'isn't he the most adorable 🥰'

YES-

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Murder, Cannibalism

Description: ☝️⬆️

A lot of people tend to forget that you're ALSO in hell for a reason, assuming you to be Alastor's loving wife and not thinking beyond that

They forget that you love all of your husband, even his twisted side that scares everyone else

Maybe they somehow missed the days you tenderly wiped blood of his face after a particularly large meal of demons who got in his way

"You really should be more mindful of the mess you're making, hiding this lovely face with all this blood."

"Apologies, darling~"

Or the way you would sigh happily whenever the radio static in his voice would intensify due to anger

"He's so cute when he's angry~"

They were probably too busy staring at his humongous demon form to notice how you practically swooned and got weak in the knees at the sight

"Oh honey~ In public~?"

Nobody except Husker, who has been with you two long enough to know just how fucked up you are

Somehow, nobody at the hotel seems to notice any of these signs until Husk points it out to them

"How did that creepy fucker even pull Y/N anyways? There's no way that bitch is actually into his mess!"

Charlie is trying to shut Angel up before either you or your husband hear him, Vaggie nodding in agreement with Angel

Until Husk slams back a shot and points you, innocently reading and sitting in Alastor's lap

"What the fuck? Have any of you actually been using your eyes!? She fucking loves the shit he pulls!"

Everyone's whips their heads around to look at you in surprise, you only laugh and play with the ends of your husband's hair

Alastor's head does a full turn as he gives them a smug grin as he accepts a small kiss on the cheek from you

"What can I say? I'm just irresistible~"

They all start to pay closs attention to your relationship with Alastor after that, especially when he being particularly monstrous

And of course, Husk was fucking right

Alastor is squeezing some guy to death with a tentacle? You're fanning yourself from the balcony with your hand

"Isn't he just the most handsome man you've ever seen? Is it hot out here? I feel like it's hot out here..!"

"...sure, doll..."

You miss the way Angel scoots away from you and hides behind Vaggie

He's dangling another poor soul over his mouth and cackling at that sound of their terror? Suddenly, everyone sees the kiss you blow his way and the wink he gives you

"Remember to chew, darling~! I don't want you to get a stomachache from that lowlife!"

"Darling, you're embarrassing me..!"

Charlie is torn between being horrified and thinking that you two are the cutest couple ever

Alastor decapitates the next one and brings you the head as a gift? You're blushing and holding it like he just gave you a precious bouquet of flowers

"Oh, Alastor, aren't you just the most man romantic in hell~"

"I thought you might enjoy it~"

He looks so pleased with himself, leaning in to accept a gracious kiss on the cheek from his beloved wife

Vaggie is just so visibly shocked, looking at Husk in disbelief, the bartender simply rolling his eyes

"I told you, she's just as fucked up in the head as he is."

They all watch in shock as Alastor picks you up and carries you inside, the sound of your delighted giggling haunting them

Enjoy~

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

[cherubfae]

holding hands || hazbin/helluva boss x reader

With Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Angel Dust, Vox, Blitz, Loona, and Striker

tags: fluff, shy!gn!reader and implied masc for Angel 💕 crushing/mutual pining, pre-established relationships, blitz's relationship/intimacy issues (but we gonna get that healthy growth we need), striker's is a bit suggestive!

Alastor

You weren't sure the barrier of touching Alastor would ever be something that would be crossed and you told yourself that you didn't mind. You chose to revel in the moments of when he sought out affections and physical closeness be it dancing or if he suddenly tugs you in to tell you something. Alastor is not very privy to other people's space and Heaven forbid someone enter his without permission. Quite the contradiction.

Now, if he notices you're purposely not trying to give him any sort of touch or affection, he will get rather annoyed. You, darling, are the only one who he doesn't mind touching him. Has he expressed this? No. Will he? Maybe. Did he expect you to be able to read his mind? Quite possibly.

Alastor hoped to have made a smoother transition rather than just outright grasping your hand. Even he seemed surprised by his own action, static feedback chirping from him. His ears flick and the slightest sliver of a blush creeps from beneath his suit collar.

"I don't mind if it's you, dearest. I... I don't detest your touch as much as the others." Alastor clears his throat, his large hand briefly covers your smaller one. Giving your hand a little squeeze, he stands abruptly and disappears into shadow and darkness.

You'd never seen Alastor embarrassed before. How cute.

Lucifer

He's a pretty affectionate guy, especially once he's comfortable around you! His heart warms as you mindlessly play with your fingers, eyes looking everywhere but at him. The more you feel his stare, the more the blush darkens on your face.

"Take it easy there, sweetling," Lucifer's soft tone eases your senses. Pressing a light kiss to your forehead, he pulls back. He offers his hand, palm upwards, giving you time to back away. His gentle smile deepens when you slip your hand in his, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. Tugging you to his side gently, your shoulders brushing, you continue on the sidewalk towards Hell's finest local café.

Husk

While not one for PDA, Husk doesn't mind affection behind closed doors. Preferably out of sight of anyone who may mock and tease him for it.

He didn't however expect you to be sitting on his bed, thumbs lightly pressing into the center of his paw watching his claws go from being exposed and then retracting thanks to your gentle manipulations. He snorts lightly, as silly as you were, he couldn't be mad at your fascination.

"You're lucky you're cute, hun. If you were anyone else I may not be as nice as I am with ya." Husk smirks. Maintaining complete eye contact, you raise his paw to your lips and give it a soft kiss, grinning as Husk jolts with a huffy mrow. "Sneaky brat," he sighs, falling back on his bed with an arm over his eyes.

Angel Dust

You want to hold his hand? Which one, babe? He's got six! :) Angel is understanding of your shy nature, though he hopes you'll be able to be more bold with him in the future. He won't pressure you, of course, but he wants you to know that you can trust him. That he is capable of taking things slow.

"Is this okay?" Angel asks, softly grasping your hand in his gloved one. When you make no move to pull from his touch, a happy wobbly smile wiggles onto his face. He lightly leans his cheek against the top of your head, a brief sign of his affection. He can snuggle you more later, but for now, he wants to enjoy the day with his favorite person.♡

Vox

Intimacy of all sorts isn't foreign to him, but he's not used to someone so good, so pure. And he's certainly not used to that attention being directed at him. Any time you touch him, even if you only accidentally brushed past him, it leaves him buzzing. Craving for something more. He wants your sweet smile to be directed at him and him alone. It takes everything in Vox not to scream when you give his hand a small squeeze only to pull back, muttering apologies. Soon, he's reaching for you again, taking your hand in his.

"I didn't say that I hated it." Vox whispered in an uncharacteristically soft way. His eyes flicker up to your face, then back to see where his hand has dwarfed yours. With his free hand falling to your hip, lightly stroking circles there, he pulls you to stand between his legs. Your other arm slides to rest on his shoulder as his clawed hand curls around the back of your knee. Intimate but not forceful. There's no aggression in his movements. Including your head towards him, even sitting down he's much taller than you. Vox's eyes hold a silent question, one that you answer with that smile he loves so much and a nod, and his lips press to yours with your hands still joined.

Blitzø

Romantic gestures are a big deal for him. Big in the way that he struggles with them, but that he doesn't want it to be something that holds him back. Familial and platonic he understands, but Blitz is pretty damned confused with the fact that you want to even be near someone like him. He doesn't want to inadvertently hurt you by acting how he does. He doesn't wanna fuck up, but goddammit, he really does want to be near you. He wants to be able to give you everything you could need and more, he just doesn't know how. How to unfuck himself.

"Sl-slow," Blitz's voice betrays him with a crack and he swallows thickly, taking your hand in his. Ever grateful that you're the ones in I.M.P right now. This is different. Intimate. He's shaky, palms sweaty. His brain feels foggy and it's suddenly hotter than normal. He feels dizzy and like the floor may break beneath his feet and swallow him whole. The second you start to withdraw, he's tugging you back to him with a soft, raspy, "No."

Facing him now, your other hand slides up to his. Both your palms are pressed together. Blitz keeps his gaze on the floor, unable to help how fidgety he feels, even as he laces your fingers together, and leans his head onto your shoulder. He's not gonna let you pull away. Not yet. Please...

Loona

Lighting up a cigarette, Loona leans her back against a wall of some dingy alleyway in the human world. You had chosen to wait with her, both dressed in your human disguises, hoping that any second Blitz and M&M would return with the mission completed. Your sole purpose tonight had been to guard Stolas's grimoire and open the portal when everyone was ready to return home.

Blowing her smoke towards the sky, Loona hummed softly. "At least it's a nice night, huh?" She smiles lightly, grateful her tail was hidden in this form when you leaned against the wall beside her. You looked great; you always did.

A vast blue sky with billions of twinkling stars smiled down on you two. It was a nice change of pace from the hellish red glow of your home. This particular area of Earth was quiet. Peaceful, even. Nodding your head you smile at her, Loona swallows.

Her pinky finger lightly brushed your own, a gentle startled gasp leaving you. But you smile, albeit shyly, your hand taking hers. Not many words were exchanged, none needed to be. Just Loona smoking her cigarette and looking up at the stars.

Striker

Ain't you just the cutest little thing? You think he doesn't notice how worked up and shy you get when he's just finished wrangling in some dinner, with his bare, sweaty muscles on display. It's a direct, unvoiced invite for only you and yet you haven't taken him up on anything yet. Why?

"You scared of me, sugar?" Striker drawls, flicking his cigar butt into the dirt and crushing it with the heel of his boot. You look up at him with those big, beautiful doe eyes and adamantly shake your head that you weren't. "Then what is it, darlin'? Spit it out." He smirks, gold tooth glinting.

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

Cheeks heating, you gnaw on your lower lip. "I'd like to hold your hand." Striker blinks, clearly taken aback. That's it? You're getting so worked up like a nervous virgin begging for a thick cock because you want to... Hold his hand? He stops himself from laughing, he can tell that it's really bothering you. Heaving a sigh, Striker plops down beside you. Pulling you into his lap, his arms slide around your waist and he offers both his hands to you. He hides his reddening face at your back, the sound of his blood rushes in his ears, unable to focus on anything but how soft your hands are. And how well they fit into his. "Jus' do it then, they're yours to touch, ain't they?"

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin imagines #hazbin hotel x you #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x you #helluva boss imagines #alastor x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #vox x reader #blitz x reader #loona x reader #striker x reader #cherubfae 2024

[scoonsalicious]

Like A Fairy Tale

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dating Bucky Barnes had been like living a fairy tale, but as he distances himself from you and your relationship, you come to the realization that maybe fairy tales aren't meant to come true.

Warnings: Language to make Steve blush, mentions of alcohol use, implied sex, angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 3.4k This is my very first posted fic, and I am very nervous but I hope you like it! If I've missed any warnings, please tell me so I can add them. Much love and thanks to my bestie @jmeelee for indulging my obsession and dropping everything to read this when I sent it to her <3 Please pardon any spelling/grammar errors. I write for 18+, so minors DNI. _____________________________________________________________

Once upon a time, being Bucky Barnes’ girl had felt like living in a fairy tale. He was everything your younger self had ever dared to dream of in a Prince Charming– attentive, affectionate, kind, and oh, how he made you laugh! You were the envy of all of your friends, the very definition of #couplegoals, and you thanked your lucky stars every night that the two of you had found one another, despite all the odds.

But fairy tales aren’t real. 

You weren’t sure exactly when it started, but somewhere in the third year of your relationship, after you’d moved into a handsome brownstone in Brooklyn together, after you’d adopted a fluffy white kitten, Bucky started pulling away from you. The steps that took him from you were small at first– he was taking on more and more missions, opting to stay gone for longer periods of time. Days would go by, and they’d turn into weeks, then a month or two at a time would go by where you wouldn’t see him. 

At first, it hadn’t been terrible– Bucky had always made sure to contact you each and every day. A video call whenever he could, a phone call or text when he couldn’t, but slowly, so slowly you barely noticed, the calls stopped coming all together. Sure, he’d answer when you called him… when he could, which wasn’t always possible on a mission, and you hated acting needy and taking him away from his work, so eventually, you stopped reaching out, too. 

When he was home, you were like ships passing in the night. You always offered to take time off of work so you could spend some time with him before he was set to head out again, but he never wanted you to jeopardize your career on his account. Your reunions would always be passionate, but short-lived, a few hot and heavy nights before he took off once more to save the world. 

You tried not to let it bother you. You really, really did. His job was so important. People’s lives relied on him. Where did you get off getting upset over that? So, you kept it to yourself. Until you couldn’t. Not any more.

“Y/N,” your best friend, Lainy, cornered you at her annual New Year’s Eve party, “where’s Barnes? He’s been leaving you to go solo for months now. I don’t think I’ve seen you with him since Mark’s St. Patrick’s Day Party.”

Ouch. “He’s working, Lainy,” you told her, not wanting to admit that March had been the last time the two of you had gone out together, let alone spent more than three days in a row in each other’s company. 

“Yeah, he was ‘working’ over the Memorial Day trip, and the 4th of July BBQ, and Jack and Alice’s wedding, and your aunt’s funeral.” You cringed internally as she applied air quotes to ‘working.’ “And he was ‘working’ on your birthday, and Christmas. Babe, he’s been leaving you alone for almost an entire year. What’s going on? Are you sure there isn’t someone else?”

The worst part was, you knew there wasn’t, or at least, no one individual. When he’d first started distancing himself, of course another woman was the first thing that came to your mind, and you weren’t proud of yourself, but you’d gone through his phone to search for evidence of an affair… multiple times, and repeatedly came up with nothing. And bless Bucky’s heart, but he didn’t have the technological know-how to hide an infidelity from you. Granted, that didn’t negate the possibility that he was randomly hooking up with people while he was away. You’d have to be stupid to not consider the possibility.

You could have asked Steve. You didn’t think Captain America had it in him to lie to you about something like that, but you didn’t want him reporting on your suspicions back to Bucky, nor did you think you could stand to see the look of pity in his eye if he had to tell you that yes, Bucky was cheating on you while you anxiously awaited his return every night. So, you kept the suspicions to yourself. 

Your conversation with Lainy had left you deflated. Here it was New Year’s Eve, and you were alone, the man you loved god knew where– just not with you. How many more holidays and milestones and everyday nights were you going to spend by yourself, waiting for a man who never seemed to want to be home with you anymore? This wasn’t the kind of life you wanted, the kind of life you deserved. 

You made your way to the kitchen to refill your glass of wine. You’d probably already had too many, but you needed to drown the despair that was slowly filling you up. As you poured an exceptionally generous glass, a man entered the kitchen. You recognized him– Harris, a cousin of Lainy’s who had flirted with you relentlessly for years before you had started seeing Bucky. 

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, his eyes lighting up upon seeing you, “it’s been awhile.” He enveloped you in a friendly hug. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled and exchanged pleasantries, catching up on the overall brushstrokes of your life. 

“I’m sorry about your breakup,” he offered gently, after you’d exhausted the usual small talk.

“My breakup?” you asked, brow piqued.

“Last few events I’ve seen you at, you’ve been alone. I assumed you and Barnes…” he left the thought floating, the implication hanging in the air: Barnes has left you alone, I assumed you broke up.

You huffed out a laugh. God. Was your relationship actually over and you were the only one dumb enough to not see it? 

“If you aren’t seeing anyone,” Harris continued, “I would really love to take you out. You’ve gotta know I’ve been into you for ages, and I figure if I don’t shoot my shot now, who knows when I’ll have another chance.”

You cocked your head and looked at him, taking in his earnest demeanor. Here was a man who genuinely wanted to spend time with you. Why were you waiting on someone who no longer wanted to be around?

“Um, I might have to get back to you on that, Harris,” you told him before excusing yourself. You needed air. 

You found yourself on Lainy’s balcony, the air deceptively mild for the end of December in Manhattan. Alone with your thoughts, you pulled out your phone and dialed Bucky’s number. It went straight to voicemail.

“Someone asked me out on a date tonight,” you said into the recording, your voice choked with tears you didn’t want to shed. “And I think I might say yes, because, honestly Buck, what are we even doing anymore? You’re never here, and I’m always alone. I tried. I tried so fucking hard to not let it get to me, because your work’s important. I know that. I do, and I’m not begrudging you for your job. But… but I can’t keep on like this. I can’t even remember the last time we spent more than three days together. Isn’t that crazy? Three days. Everyone thinks you’re cheating on me. Did you know that? You’re away so much that everyone I know is convinced you’re fucking someone else. Maybe you are, or maybe you already left me, but I’ve been too stupid to notice; if that’s the case, you could have just told me.” 

You kept your composure as you left the message. You weren’t angry at him; you never could be. You were just tired. So tired, and so lonely. 

“All I know is that it’s another night where I’m all by myself, wishing you were here, wanting to talk to you, to feel you, and you’re just… not. You’re off doing something, or someone, more important than me, and I used to be okay with that, but I can’t be anymore. I deserve more than waiting on you, Buck. I deserve to be someone’s priority. I really wish I could have been yours, the way you were mine. 

“So, let’s just call it, okay? Your heart’s obviously not in it anymore, and mine is too tired of being hurt and alone. We’ll have to figure out what to do about the house. I’m keeping Alpine, though. You haven’t been here for her, either, and it wouldn’t be fair of you to take her if you’re never going to be around.”

Inside, you could hear the rest of the party as they counted down to midnight. When they reached zero, the night erupted in fireworks, and you could hear cheers and cars honking their horns throughout the city below you.

“Huh,” you said into your phone, “it’s midnight. Happy New Year, Buck. I hope it ends up being a good one for you, and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you decide you didn’t want to spend this last one with me.”

You hung up the phone and the tears finally fell as you slid down the balcony railing until you were crouched on the floor. You weren’t sure how long you sat there crying, but eventually Lainy found you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and ushering you into her spare room. She helped you change out of your cocktail dress and into a spare pair of pajamas, and helped you wash your face before tucking you into bed. She left you with a glass of water and a kiss on the forehead, promising that tomorrow would be better, that the next best chapter of your life was about to begin, but as you drifted into a fitful sleep, you couldn’t find the will to believe her.

You woke the next morning with a throbbing headache, the alcohol and the tears doing nothing but dehydrating you into agony. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but the battery had died in the night. From the slant of the sun coming in from the guest room window, it looked to be late morning or early afternoon. 

You changed back into your dress, thanking Lainy for her help and making a small joke about doing the walk of shame in your clothes from the night before. You avoided her questions about what had happened, promising to go over it at length at the weekend after you’d had some time to process. You weren’t in the best headspace to get into at the moment.

Fortunately, your best friend knew you well enough not to pry, and you said your goodbyes, plans for brunch on Sunday having been made. You weren’t eager to get back home, to be surrounded by reminders of Bucky, when all you wanted was the man, himself. But he was your ex-boyfriend now, you supposed. You were going to have to come to terms with that sooner than later. Besides, Alpine needed to be fed, and you weren’t going to abandon her.

Your keys clicked in the lock as you opened your front door. “Al, baby,” you called, kicking off your heels and closing the door behind you, “Mommy’s home. You hungry, sweetie?”

You began making your way back toward the kitchen when a loud crash from upstairs got your attention. You rolled your eyes; what had the cat knocked over now? 

But then there was the roar of a body barreling down the upstairs hall and toward the stairs, leaving you frozen where you stood. You cast a glance to where you’d left your phone in your purse by the door. Too far away to reach in time to call for help as the intruder came pounding down the stairs. 

A massive figure rounded the corner, nearly knocking you over.

“Bucky?” You blinked, sure your eyes were playing tricks on you, but no– there he stood, and he looked like shit. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and his eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. He’d obviously been wearing the same clothing for at least a day, if not more.

“Y/N,” he breathed, throwing his arms around you and wrapping you in an almost bone-crushing embrace. “Sweetheart, I was so worried.”

“What are you doing here, Buck?” you asked him, pulling away from him. God, you wanted to let him hold you, but you just couldn’t. Not anymore.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, blue eyes desperately searching yours. “I got your message. Doll, it fucking broke my heart. I came straight home, but you weren’t here, and I was terrified that you were gone; that you’d left me for good.”

You scoffed. “I’m not the one who leaves, Bucky.”

He flinched at your words. “I know, Baby. I know, and ’m so sorry. I had no idea. I shoulda known what leavin’ you so much was doin’ to you, ‘cause it was doin’ it to me, too. When I heard you say that people– that you– thought I was cheating on you, that I had neglected you so much you thought I found someone else, that I could ever love anyone else, ever want anyone else– I’ve never hated myself more, doll. I can’t stand that you even had those thoughts in your head for one second, because it’s always been you. There’s never been anyone else. You’re it.”

“Then why have you been gone?” you asked him in a whisper. “If there’s no one else, and I’m it, why don’t you ever want to be with me? Why do you keep leaving?” 

Bucky ran both his hands along his face. “God, it feels so stupid now,” he said with a sigh. “But I was trying to save–”

“Trying to save the world, yeah, I know,” you interrupted him, annoyed. “Trust me, I’m well aware that I can’t compete with that. But I needed to know you thought we were worth saving, too, and you never did.”

Bucky started laughing then, and you scoffed. “Wow, you don’t have to rub it in, Bucky.”

“No, no– Sweetheart, no!” he shook his head. “That’s not it, at all. Hold on.” He went to the foyer and grabbed his go-bag; you had missed it when you walked in. Coming back to the kitchen, he put it on the table, opening it up and extracting a folded piece of paper and handing it to you.

It was a real estate listing for a farmhouse Upstate, with acreage on the Hudson. You and Bucky had talked about what kind of house you would buy if the situation had ever presented itself, and it was almost as if you’d dreamed it up.

You looked from the paper back to Bucky. “I don’t understand,” you told him.

“It needs pretty extensive renovations,” he told you. “I wanted to take on enough overtime to have the money for them and make a good dent on the mortgage, but it needed more work than I originally thought. And, I have to come clean– I haven’t been one hundred percent honest with you about where I’ve been spending all my time.” He looked up at you through his lashes, head bent down in shame.

“But… but, you said there wasn’t anyone else,” you stammered, heart ready to beat out of your chest. 

“Oh god! No, and I mean that! There isn’t, I swear! God, I’ve fucked this up so bad!” Bucky tugged at his hair in frustration. “I’ve been going on extra missions, but sometimes, Sam, Steve, and I go Upstate to do some work on the house, to cut down the costs so I could still make my timeline.”

“You already bought it?” you asked, your voice flat. You were in shock. “You want to move out? Away from me?”

Bucky moaned in distress and drew you to him again. “No! God, I’m doing this all wrong. I want us to move there, together. To make it the perfect house. The perfect home for me, my wife and our stupid fur baby.”

You stilled at his words. “I’m sorry, your what?”

Bucky smiled at you sheepishly as he reached back into his go-bag. “I’ll have you know that I had an entire plan. Was gonna have the house ready by Valentine’s Day. Take you up there as a surprise, ask you properly, but I fucked that up, so…” He brought his hand back out, holding a small burgundy velvet box. He opened it to reveal a vintage engagement ring, a sapphire instead of a diamond. Your favorite stone.

Bucky got down on one knee. “Y/N,” he began as his voice choked up a bit with emotion, “I know I fucked up for the last eight months. I would completely understand if you can’t forgive me, but I need you to know that I love you. I have only ever loved you, and if you let me, I will spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that, even for a moment, I let you think that you weren’t the most important thing in my life, my number one priority. Will you marry me?”

“Buck…” you began, not sure how to phrase what you were about to say. “What about your job? I can’t keep coming in second to the rest of the world, and I get that it’s selfish of me, but–”

“I quit,” he said simply.

“What?” Your eyes were wide with shock at his statement. 

“The second I heard your voicemail, where you said you wanted to call it because I was never there, I told Steve I was done, that I needed to start putting you first. It wasn’t even a question. I’m officially retired.”

Your mouth hung open. You had hoped he would cut down on his missions, but for him to have quit completely… You gently tugged him to his feet, taking the ring box and running a finger across it.

“It’s lovely,” you told him softly. “Absolutely perfect; exactly what I would have picked for myself.” Bucky beamed at you, pleased. “But I can’t accept it.” His face fell as you gently placed the ring back in his hands. 

“Oh,” he whispered, eyes growing glassy. “I… um, I understand. I fucked up, hurt you. I understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

“I still want to be with you, you idiot,” you admonished him. “But you did hurt me, and we’ve been apart for a long time. We need time to find our way back to each other again, okay? Ask me again on Valentine’s Day, just like you originally planned. Don’t do it now just because you fucked up.” You leaned up on your tip toes and kissed him. “And if it helps make you feel better, I’m probably going to say ‘yes,’ anyway.”

Bucky grinned at you. “Really?” he asked. When you nodded, he picked you up and spun you in  a circle before pressing his lips to yours as if he hadn’t touched you in months. “I promise you, Sweetheart, I’ll do anything I can to make this up to you, I swear it.”

“Anything?” you asked with a smile. “I think I know where you can start.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked you. “And where’s that?”

“Take me to bed, Bucky Barnes,” you said, kissing him again.

Without a word, Bucky swung you over his shoulder and ran with you up the stairs, your squeals and giggles echoing behind him.

Much, much later, when you lay sated together tangled in limbs and sheets with Alpine snuggled next to your heads, Bucky played with your fingers as you rested your head on his bare chest.

“So, Doll,” he said, kissing the pads of each of your fingers, “you gonna tell me who had the nerve to ask my girl out on a date?” 

You laughed. “Lainy’s cousin, Harris. I suppose I’ll have to text him now and tell him I’m not interested.”

“Hell no, you’re not interested,” Bucky chuffed. “Gonna have to remind that punk you’ve already got a boyfriend. The position has been filled.”

“That’s the thing, though,” you said, planting a kiss on his nose. “I don’t have a boyfriend anymore, do I?”

Bucky’s face fell. “But I thought you said–”

“I’ve got myself a fiance.”

Bucky tightened his grip around you, drawing you even closer to his warmth. “Yeah, okay. I gotta admit I like the sound of that a lot better.”

Your entire relationship with Bucky Barnes might not have played out like a fairy tale, but in that moment, you were more sure than ever that you two would get your happily ever after.

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