Mark is hot. Mark is your roommate. Why must you realize both things during ovulation week...
wc: 5.3k
warnings: explicit sexual content, roommates to lovers, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v (don't do that), oral (f), spit kink i think, mark takes care of you, marks cums inside, mark knows, mark is mark, mark.
“…fuck, fuck, fuck…”
What in the hell did you walk in on?
Closing the door to your apartment behind you, quietly, twisting the knob to not make a single sound, you tip toed toward the kitchen table and set your purse down. Then your keys. Then, you jumped again.
“Fu-huck!”
His whine echoed from his room, out into the tiny hallway, into the kitchen, and up your skirt. Twisting your knees, squeezing your thighs together, you bit down on your bottom lip and cursed the fact you hadn’t gotten laid in months.
Having Mark for a roommate didn’t help.
Not when he sounded like that.
Pressing your hands into the wood, you sucked down a deep breath and shook it off. He was a male within a few feets radius of you, you didn’t want him, especially not right now, at the start of this week when you wanted anything and everything that walked. Just earlier on your walk home a street vendor complimented your legs, a catcall really, but you very well could’ve spun around and shown them to him up close.
You didn’t want Mark. You were ovulating and overstimulated and sensitive. And he’s an attractive guy, you’ve told him that before, he knows it, everyone thinks he's sexy.
His bedroom door swung open and your stomach dropped past your knees. He wore grey sweats only, and his headphones lived around his neck, his hair a mess from where they once sat on his head.
Games. Gaming. Gamer. He was playing games.
Not fucking someone into his mattress. Though it was hard to tell the difference, he sucked air harshly through his teeth just the same, no matter the activity.
Not that you listened. Or paid attention. Or touched yourself when you knew he had his hand wrapped around his cock thinking his sounds were muffled by the low beat of his nighttime playlist full of underground this guy eats, trust me rappers.
“Hey,” he smiled at you, a flash of perfect teeth with a boyish curl of his lips, “Thought I heard you come in.”
“Hi,” you sighed, standing up straight, composing yourself. Your eyes dropped to his toned middle, his perfectly sculpted chest, the silver chain hanging around his neck…
He swaggered for the fridge, coming closer to you, bodies separated by the table in the middle of the kitchen. The expanse of his back, just as honey, just as broad, just as built as his front, as his everything else. Mark wasn’t a big guy, but jesus god almighty did everything on him fit together in perfect harmony.
“How was work?” he asked, pulling a water bottle from a shelf, knobby fingers wrapping around the plastic. Arm flexing as he twisted off the cap and brought the spout to his lips, he turned to you and watched you while he drank.
A slight furrow of his brows beneath his undone hair, a pout in his lips, especially after he pulled the bottle away, the wide innocence in his eyes he wears as a facade, a trick, a ploy, because beneath that purity…
“Did you hear me?”
His smile settled into a smirk.
“Hm?” you hummed, and you watched him drag his eyes up and down your body. Glancing down at yourself you felt your cheeks flush of all color.
Bent over the table like you were, your knees had turned in. Thighs squeezing together, you practically trembled. Embarrassing. Humiliating really. Emitting a horniness reading absolutely off the charts, he could tell.
“Uh, yeah,” your voice almost squeaked. Pushing off the table you brushed your hands together and scooped up your things. “Work was… good.”
Mark leaned against a counter, his abs flexing ever so slightly. He crossed an arm over his chest and sipped his water, eyes narrowing.
“You’re lying,” he said, tongue darting between his lips, pointing at you with the bottle. Eyes glancing to his glistening lips, you withheld a whimper and shook your head.
You’ve got to get out of here.
“Not lying,” you said with the smallest of giggles, forcing some sort of smile onto your face. “I gotta shower.”
Starting for your bedroom that lived at the end of the hall, adjacent to Marks, his laugh paralyzed you. Sarcastic, knowing, sadistic. It bled into your ears, melted over your skin, and you despised what it did to your heart.
“You had your proposal today,” he started, pushing off the counter with his backside, padding over to the hall where you stood begging the bathroom to come closer to you so you wouldn’t have to withstand his presence any longer. “The big one. Your boss would be there, all the guys who think they have big dicks that own the company… Right?”
Turning slowly, very, very slowly, meeting his slightly confused expression, you nodded
“Riiiight,” he sang, voice going low and gravelly. A chill ran down your spine, one you’re hoping he didn’t notice. “I’ve listened to you all month. You’ve been dreading today, ‘cause you knew they weren’t gonna go for your team. They chose that asshole with the money, didn’t they?”
“Yeah,” you whispered, and he tipped his chin up, looking down at you. The ache between your thighs, the heat beneath your skin, grew tenfold under his stare.
You could reach out, grab him, fall onto the floor, yank down his sweatpants, slip your panties aside and sink onto him. It wasn’t even about him, you think, maybe. He’s a guy. A man who chronically oozed sex appeal, who caught the eye of everyone walking down the city streets. He’d be something hot, and hard, to fill yourself with, to relieve yourself upon, getting you through this week so you didn’t have to succumb to your vibrator or your own fingers…
He licked his lips again, the tip of his tongue sliding along his bottom lip dangerously slow.
Back and forth… back and forth… back and-
“You still with me?” he asked within a breath, almost a whisper, pulling you out of a trance.
You needed to leave.
Gulping, you squeezed your eyes shut and shook your head. Shook him out of your head. Him and his hot, shirtless self with his grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you knew he wasn’t wearing anything beneath them because the definition between his hips, down his pelvis winked at you.
“I’m fine.” Snapping your eyes open, you glared at him. “You’re right. Bad day. Thanks so much for reminding me.” You spun on your heels and stormed down the hall, stepping into your bedroom. He attempted to follow, arms shooting out at his side, eyes going wide, all signs of playing wiped from his cheeks.
“Hey, wait, I didn’t mean to do that, I was only trying to-“
You slammed your door shut.
In his face.
Mark Lee was not allowed in your bedroom, not right now. And probably not anytime in the near future. And then some.
This week sucked. A goddamned reminder that you had the worlds sexiest roommate and couldn’t do a thing about it. That the crush you’ve tried to swallow away for a year now was very much still real, very much still hanging over your head, something you can’t seem to escape. Not when your body quite literally begged you to reproduce with him.
Sighing, eyes falling shut, you threw your head back against the door.
Why Mark Lee???
Why your roommate you’ve grown tumultuously close to, closer than anyone else to you at this point in your life???
The Mark Lee who brings home girls some weekends, who goes out to party with friends he met in college, who works remotely, rarely has to leave the apartment, so he’s always here, always saying hi to you, always quick to greet you and bid you a good day when you leave in the morning…
Criminal really, how domestic it all seemed. How some days he’ll hint toward it, completely destroying weeks of suppression you worked oh so hard to build, only to now have to do it all over again.
You promised yourself you wouldn't get to this point.
That living with someone as attractive as Mark would work.
Guys and girls can be friends, you and Mark, you'd beat the stereotype.
Maybe it was time to move out.
Pushing off of your door to peel your top layers off, leaving a shirt and your skirt on to move to the bathroom with, you pulled pins from your hair and slumped onto your bed to pull your socks off.
Glancing about the space, your cozy bedroom you put together yourself, with Mark's help, he really etched himself into every part of your life.
A hoodie of his laid over the back of a chair, a pair of his sunglasses sat on top of your dresser, some of the earrings in your jewelry box were his... For gods sake, you shared the same shampoo and soap.
Digging your hands through your hair, splaying yourself backwards on your bed, you reached for your laptop and pulled it over your stomach. Opening it, you punched Apartments.com in to the search bar and let available places in your area, nearby work, pop up.
Scrolling for about a minute, eyeing the monthly rent in comparison to location and appearance, you squeezed your eyes shut and groaned.
Now was not the time.
Tossing your laptop to your mattress, not bothering to log out or shut it, you snatched your towel and disappeared into the bathroom, allowing the hot water to wash away work stress, ovulating thoughts, and feelings.
Wrapping yourself in your towel, tucking it in so it stayed put, you smoothed lotion over your exposed skin, up your neck, down your chest, around your arms. Making note of where your necklace and earrings were on the counter that you'd have to come back for, you picked up your clothes, flipped off the light, and peeked out into the hallway for any sign of Mark.
Years you've lived here, and yet the act of running from the shower to your bedroom performed like some sort of humiliation ritual.
Not for Mark, of course. He'd wander around in his towel for hours.
The apartment was quiet. No games, no whines, no Mark.
Maybe he left.
Stepping out of the bathroom, leaving the door cracked, you took two giant strides toward your door and spun inside swiftly, turning the knob as you closed your door, just in case he was still here somewhere.
"What are you looking at these for?"
Jumping a mile, grabbing onto the top of your towel, you whirled around with a gasp.
He was sitting on your bed with your laptop on his legs that were folded under him.
"Mark!"
He glanced up at you, his brows furrowed and focused, paying no mind to how your cheeks flushed and your body still dripped. "When were you planning on moving?"
"I wasn't, I-I was just-"
Looking down at the screen, he squinted at something. "Looking for apartments in this building."
Stepping toward your bed, you held up a finger. "Everywhere, not just this building."
He scoffed, his lips perking into the tiniest of smirks. "So, you admit it. You're moving out." The way he looked at you...
Both hands held onto your towel, pressing to your chest for your own sanity and composure.
You were naked.
He was on your bed, half naked.
"I wasn't planning on it," you sighed, eyes wide, hoping to tide him over with your words so that he'd leave and you could continue your search, or, at least put some clothes on. "You saw me when I came in here, I was stressed, so it was the first thing I thought of to do to help my nerves, I guess, I-"
Setting the laptop aside, he rose to his feet, head cocking to the right. All of his accessories were gone, it was just him, his sweats, and that silver chain around his neck.
"How is a new apartment gonna help relieve your stress at work?" he asked, taking small steps toward you. His frame stood bigger than your own. More clothed than you, taller than you, you sunk backward, your body pressing against your door. "I did see you, you were..." His eyes flickered to your lips. "Upset."
Five inches separated you.
"Mark," you whispered, and he looked at you. "It's just a bad day."
"Is it?" he asked, closing two more inches, eyeing your parted lips as your breath hitched.
Gulping, you nodded, holding onto the cotton that covered you even tighter. "Bad day."
Narrowing his eyes, you could feel his warm breath trickling over your skin still damp from the shower. "So, you thought a new apartment would cure that bad day?" He didn't let you answer, cutting you off before you started. "Why don't you just tell me what you really need, sweetheart," he whispered, closing the gap between you, pressing himself against you, "And we can stop playing fucking games.”
His hands pressed against the wood of the door, his arms caging you in. Chest to chest, his nose nudged yours and he smirked as your eyes fluttered shut.
Intoxicating.
Every siren in your head shot off.
His warmth, his presence, his smell, his words, his lips.
"Look at me," he murmured, and you obeyed, meeting his proud smile. "Good girl," he cooed, nudging your nose with his. Your knees trembled. He let a soft laugh loose. "Yeah, you like that. I knew it."
"Knew it?" you breathed, your heart pounding between your lungs.
Mark licked his lips and popped his brows. "I hear you too, sweetheart." His lips ghosted yours, smiling as your face screwed up in disbelief. "Oh, yeah," he sang, "You're filthy. How many toys you got in that drawer over there? Wanna play?"
Writhing, pressing your legs together, your core slick already, you whined and shook your head. "Mark."
Parting his lips, softening his face, he pouted. "Oh, babe, you're not in trouble." Taking a hand to your chin, he danced his thumb over your cheek, swooning as you melted into his touch. "I'm teasing," he whispered, taking in how you stared up at him, unable to look at anything else since he said look at me.
Swallowing thickly, you took shallow breaths, your mind tuning to the sound of his voice. Mark pinched your cheek gently, his brows steadying over his deep brown eyes. The way you stared at him, like he hung the stars and held the answer to all of your problems...
"I know what you need," he said just above a whisper, his fingers drawing over your skin gently, dancing down your neck. "As soon as you walked in the door, I could tell." His finger hooked below your chin, lifting it more, your doe eyes deepening. "Fuck," he whispered. "I'll leave you alone, okay, you can get into that drawer-"
He stepped away from you, and you reached for him, hands grabbing onto his bare biceps.
"Mark-"
Your towel slipped.
He didn't look.
His entire being softened.
Waiting.
His eyes never left yours.
Sucking in a shaky breath, he pushed out, "Yeah?"
Clenching your jaw, you gave him the tiniest nod of your head, and he groaned.
"Tell me," he whispered. The feeling of your fingers digging into his skin made his lashes flutter. "Say the words," he shook his head, "Or, you get nothing."
Steadying your breath, breaking through the part of you that longed for him to just give in and swallow you whole, you said, “I need you.”
It was all he needed.
Pushing you up against the door, one hand wrapping around the back of your neck and the other slipping down your body, Mark opened his mouth and pressed his lip to your neck, his teeth grazing over your skin as your arms hooked around his neck. Rocking with him, letting his weight push you to where he wanted you to be, you followed, body lax, under his control.
His fingers slipped between your legs, dragging through your folds, pressing to your clit. Moaning against your neck, grinding himself into you at the sound of your own whimper, he lifted his head and touched his forehead to yours.
“So fucking wet,” he mumbled, leaning in to kiss your lips, heavy yet slowly, his tongue poking through to meet with yours, “You’ve been pent up all day, haven’t you?”
“Three days,” you gasped, clinging to him, the massage of his fingers making you tremble.
His tongue dragged over your lips. “Three days?” Pressing wet kisses to your cheek, he muttered, “You’ve been this horny for three days?” Pulling away from you briefly, watching you writhe with every twist of his fingers, every brush of his thumb over your clit, he started to smile. The hand around your neck tightened, pressing into the sides.
“Mark,” you moaned, and the sound he made lit a spark in your belly.
Screwing your eyes shut, you thrashed against the door, knees going weak as he slid two into you, his thumb in a steady rhythm over your bud. Grinding into his hand, throwing your hips in a circle, his smile fell into a smirk.
“You want it bad,” he muttered, dipping down to nip at your neck. “What can I do to you, baby?”
Feeling your belly tighten every time you became aware that this was Mark doing this to you, touching you, making your toes curl, you couldn’t find it within yourself to hold back. Shame was lost on you.
Clawing at his back, gasping for air, a moaning mess, you babbled, “Anything, anything, y-you can do anything, I don’t… Fuck… Mark.”
“Good fucking girl,” he cooed, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth before his lips were latched to you once more. Pumping his fingers into you, curling them towards him, you shook. Bending at the knees, he pressed hot kisses down your chest, grabbing a handful on the way down, his fingers teasing your nipples. Searing his lips down your middle, over your belly button and below, he pulled his fingers from you on his knees and looked up at you. “You’re beautiful.”
Heaving breaths, your cheeks warmed. Covering your face with your hands, you managed to finally crack some sort of giggle. “Stop,” you whispered.
“Come here,” he breathed, gripping your hips, tugging your lower half toward him. Guiding one leg over his shoulder, he smoothed that hand up the back of your thigh, giving your ass a squeeze with a moan. Dragging his thumb through your slick, he curved his lips into the perfect ‘o’ and gazed up at you as he blew cool air over your core.
Sucking air in through your teeth, jolting away from him, one hand flew down to lace through his hair, giving him the harshest tug. Proud of himself, he beamed up at you and let his tongue roll through his parted lips.
“Where do you want me?” he asked, voice an octave lower than usual. He didn’t fight against your hold, but you could feel him start to try to. Letting him go, his smile wiped away. “No, hang on to me.”
“I didn’t wanna-”
He gripped your hip, his other hand sliding up your middle to grab a handful of tit. “Hang on to me,” he said through his teeth, nudging himself into your core, his nose pushing on your clit, his tongue sliding into your hole.
Both of your hands knit into his hair, holding onto him for balance as he held you up on one foot.
Lapping at you, his tongue swirling and twisting, the pressure in your belly growing tenfold, you cried out for him and allowed yourself to fall against him, all your composure gone. Mark pressed his fingers into your curves, pinched and toyed with your nipple while he moaned into your pussy soaking his face. Bobbing his head, tongue going flat, he moved with you, your hips circling on his face, riding wherever the pleasure wanted you to go.
Vision blurry, body on fire, you tugged at his hair but it wasn’t enough. You tried to reach down for him, but he wouldn’t move. You wanted to see him, to hold him, hold onto him, kiss him–
“Mark,” you whimpered, trying to pull him off of you. “Mark, please.”
Parting from you once, sucking in a breath, chest heaving, he gazed up at you with lust stricken eyes, his lips and cheeks a mess. “Wanna make you cum,” he groaned, soothing you with a circle of his hand on your thigh, “Doing so good, baby, please?”
“No,” you cried out, pulling him to his feet.
He let you.
Gently placing you back on the ground, holding you up, he pressed himself to you and cupped your jaw. You gave him a kiss, one small, one soft, one tasting like you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, giggling as he pulled a hand up to wipe his face clean, he kissed you again, longer this time, your breaths in sync, like the beating of your hearts.
“I’m right here,” he whispered. “You okay?”
Nodding, gazing at him, you licked your lips and gave him the quietest whine.
His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, his eyes flickering to it, and with the gentlest whisper, he asked, “Your bed or mine?”
“Stay here,” you breathed, and he smiled.
Taking his hands to your waist, he pulled you up, wrapping you around his front. Stolen kisses on the way there, a few strides backward toward your bed, he tipped over as you giggled and laid you down on your mattress. Tongue escaping, nasty kisses pushed to your neck, Mark pushed his sweats to the floor and climbed over you, his knees pushing yours open.
Taking both hands to your jaw, he tipped your head backward and coerced your lips open with his thumbs, holding them there. His cheeks sucked in, as his length prodded at your entrance, he pursed his lips and let a ball of spit drip onto your tongue. Moans trapped in the back of your throat, you arched against him.
Mark, eyes dark as ever, bobbed his head and stuck his thumb in your mouth, spreading his spit on your tongue. “I knew it,” he teased, “Again.” As if you were going to be able to question him, he looked you in the eyes and whispered, “Nasty.”
Eyes rolling, you wiggled your hips, the feeling of his tip not enough. Wrapping your lips around his thumb, giving him a harsh suck, you swore the devil flashed in his eyes.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he grumbled, “Don’t get me started. I want you gagging every which way, I’ve pictured it, gotten off to it.” You moaned and he laughed. “But, I wanna fuck your pussy more than I wanna fuck your throat,” he dipped down to press a kiss to your forehead, pushing stray hairs out of the way, whispering, “That okay?”
“Please,” you mumbled around his thumb, digging your teeth into it. “Mark, please.”
He lingered by your ear, lips brushing your lobe. “Please, what?”
“Fuck me,” you cried, writhing under him. He pulled his thumb out of your mouth and gripped your chin. Meeting his gaze, you whimpered. “Please, Mark, fuck me. I need you so bad.”
“Thought you were gonna let me bend you over the kitchen table,” he said, reaching a hand between your bodies to grip himself, “Pictured that before, too.”
“Fuck,” you gasped as he slid his tip into you.
He winced at how you squeezed him already, his brows tipped in the middle, his lips curling under. “Let me in, baby, can’t give you what you want if you don’t breathe.”
Your heart beat in your ears. You could barely get any air in as his length pushed inside of you, the pressure too great. The stretch, too much, the thought, the knowing that it was Mark, this was Mark, your roommate, inside of you, his cock, the pleasure–
A long sigh, laced with a whine, washed over him from your lips. Pushing into the hilt, your thighs touching, his hips on your hips, your clit pushing into his pelvis, he laid on top of you, your chests meshed. Parted lips met yours, the brush of a tongue on yours, the stinging of tears in your eyes as he rocked into you– you could feel him in your throat.
His thumbs pushed into your cheeks, his soft touch keeping you with him, brushing over your bottom lashes as your lips parted and you sighed, gazing up at him.
A mess, both of you. His hair, pushed around in ways he’d never let you see, his eyes, glazed over with euphoria, his lips, parted and hungry. Teeth baring as he rocked into you, your breath hitching in your chest, you drug your hands down his back, your nails leaving behind plush red love marks as they came back up to his shoulders.
“God, I just wanna stay like this,” he mumbled, burying his head in your neck, moaning into your shoulder. “Feel so good, sweetheart,” he sighed, wrapping his lips in a kiss below your jaw.
One of your hands escaped to his hair, knitting into his locks, holding onto him for clarity. “You’re so… big…” you managed to gasp between snaps of his hips.
Smirking down at you, he pushed himself up to his hands, the silver chain on his neck dangling over your nose. “Yeah?”
Managing a smile with your twisted brows, you breathed through a laugh, “Knew it.”
“Fuck, you’re so cute,” he muttered, suffocating you with a kiss, his hands eager to hold you in anyway they possibly could. “You know what it takes to hold myself back?”
Your tongue wanted to pop out of your lips. Biting down on your lip, moaning without giving yourself permission, you blinked up at him, dazed, ignited with nirvana.
Relief.
Mark pushed up off of you, guiding your legs around his waist as he held onto yours. Picking your hips up off the mattress, he pistoled into you and tipped his head back, his groans echoing off the walls, lingering in the air.
“You know what it feels like… to have you walk around here… like you don’t know how hot you are?” He took a thumb to your clit, pressing down, grinning as you cried out and writhed, your hands gripping onto your sheets. “What it feels like… to hear you moan into your pillows… knowing that I could walk in here… and fuck you dumb?”
“Yes,” you gasped, voice broken, “Mark, yes, you drive me fucking crazy.”
He snickered. “Do I?”
Every twist of his thumb made you tremble, your high barreling toward you as you watched his body move. The arch in his back, the push of his hips, where your bodies met, the sound your bodies made…
“I wanted you as soon as I got home,” you babbled, fucking yourself back onto him as he thrust into you, “Wanted you to fuck me, wanted you to make me cum… Mark.”
His body let loose for a second, his composure dropping, his head lulling back, but then he grabbed your waist and pushed you both up to your pillows. Stretching his legs behind him, putting his hands behind your knees, he folded you in half and lowered himself on top of you.
Hair stuck to his forehead, your breaths tangled in shared air, his chain kissed your chin, your nose, your neck.
“Mark,” you whispered, your belly tightening, your legs shaking around him. Pulling him closer, landing messy kisses to his cheek, to his jaw, you gasped, right on the edge. “M’fu- Mark!”
“Come on,” he whispered, lazy lips brushing your cheek, “C’mon, babe. I got you.” You squeezed him, your body twitching under him, a tumultuous build up, a crash you needed three days ago. Fueled by his hands, his hips, his tongue, you cried out for him, barely recognizing yourself. “Cum for me, sweetheart, c’mon, you can do it.”
Almost missing your lips with a kiss, he moaned into your mouth as his own belly tensed.
“Need you to cum first,” he groaned, letting his fingers toy with your clit, his speed relentless, but he knew as soon as you went silent, he had you. “Be a good girl,” he whined, nose pressing to your cheek, “C’mon… Cum on my cock, baby, isn’t that what you want? Cum and I’ll fill you up, you want that?”
Nodding, fast, barely breathing, only able to suck air in, unable to push any out, you clung to him as your vision seared white, and you convulsed into him, body ignited with a pleasure brand new. You squeezed him tight, giving him little time to warn you he was cumming, filling you up with half a thrust as he dropped to his elbows and whimpered.
You’re not sure how long you laid in silence, spent bodies pressed together on a mussed up bedspread that now needed a washing. Then, he stirred.
Picking up his head of messed up hair, he looked down at you, eyes heavy, lips swollen. Surprised to see you already looking, he smiled, a flash of his teeth poking between his lips. Pulling out of you, taking his time, watching you closely as he did, he kissed you gently.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered, shifting over your body to lay beside you, wrapping an arm around your back to tuck you into his side.
Unable to not look at him, you brushed your lips over his chest and whispered, “You’re incredible.”
Resting an arm behind his head, he looked down at you with a lazy smile. “You feel better?”
“Yes,” you answered quickly, making him laugh. “But, I think…”
He flipped his brows over, reaching his hand out to fix the mess that was your hair. “You think what, sweetheart?”
Curling up against him, you cowered and hid your face in his arm.
“Tell me,” he said softly, smoothing his hand under your chin, lifting your head. Pursing your lips, as if he could tell by the flutter of your lashes, he poked his cheek with his tongue. “Be a good girl and use your words,” he whispered, and you almost whimpered.
Your heart swelled in your chest, your cheeks heating as you whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”
Mark glanced around your room before looking at you crazy. “Am I… going somewhere?” Smiling as you giggled, he screwed his face up and tried to wiggle away from you. “Oh, wait, actually, that's you. How’s the apartment hunt going?”
“No!” Grabbing onto him, pulling him back into you, he rolled over on his side, hovering over you. Blinking up at him, you took a deep breath and shook your head. “I’m not leaving. You overwhelmed me, I thought I had no other option.”
Mark raised his brows. “Instead of just asking me to fuck, you were going to move out? To a whole new apartment? When this one is just fine?” Your smile faded, and your resolve clouded over. Mark tilted his head, curious. “Talk to me.”
Rolling your eyes, dragging your nails against his back, softer this time, you mumbled, “I… like you… Mark.” He didn’t move. “I was thinking about moving, ‘cause… I have feelings for you. And, after this… I want you. I wanted you before. I want to be yours.”
It took his six whole seconds to break into a toothy grin. “Great,” he huffed, catching your lips in a slow kiss, whispering against them, “Which room do you want to be ours?”
Eyes widening, he shocked you with another kiss.
Nudging your nose with his, he winked. “I wanna be yours.”
mark cant stop yapping about spiderman and you cant stop kissing him. (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
“You don’t understand,” he says, wide-eyed, voice already three octaves too loud, “if Peter and Miles actually team up again and then 2099 shows up, that’s like—bro, that’s like—”
You hum softly against his lips, and he still doesn’t get the hint.
“—three different timelines! And—mmph—okay, wait—wait—babe,” he mumbles as you kiss him again, “I’m trying to explain the multiverse and you’re distracting me—babe—”
You kiss him harder.
Mark Lee, your sweet, nerdy, infuriatingly kissable boyfriend, is sitting on the couch in his Spider-Man hoodie (the Miles Morales one, obviously), gesturing with one hand and completely unaware of the way you’ve climbed into his lap like a lovesick koala.
His other hand? Firm on your waist, like it always finds its home there. His thumb’s rubbing lazy circles, up, down, up, down—like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Absent-minded. Natural.
And his lips—god, his lips—so soft, so pouty, so Mark.
“But if you think about it, like, Gwen and Miles—babe, I’m serious—they represent two different—mmhm—oh my god, you’re literally ignoring me right now,” he grins, nose scrunching as you pepper kisses along his jaw.
“I’m not ignoring you,” you murmur against his skin. “I’m just… appreciating you.”
“With your mouth?”
“Mhm.”
His laugh is all breath and heat, slightly shaky now, finally trailing off from his spider-rant. “You’re insane.”
“You’re talking about spider variants while I’m kissing you.”
“I was talking about variants,” he pouts, letting his head fall back against the couch, looking at you through thick lashes. “Now my brain’s melting. I had points to make.”
You kiss his pout. Then his cheek. Then his neck.
“Baby,” he groans, squirming just a little, “I had a whole theory—”
You slide your fingers under the edge of his hoodie, grip the fabric, kiss him again and again and again.
Now he’s not talking at all.
Just breathing in soft little stutters, kissing you back with those loser-lovey eyes like you put the stars in the damn sky.
“Your lips are so distracting,” you murmur against his mouth.
“You’re the distracting one,” he huffs, arms wrapping fully around you now, pulling you close, surrendering with one last grumble: “Spider-Man can wait…”
(He still tries to finish his theory ten minutes later—with you half-asleep in his lap, lips kiss-bruised and smiling.) finally some couple stuff !! *clap* *clap*
mark jerks off to his best friend’s voice during a late-night call.
❛ content 1.7k words, 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, male reader, best friend! mark, phone sex (mark’s side), voice kink, masturbation, reader is oblivious at first.
━━━ ( part two )
mark’s hand was already slick.
it was shameful — he knew that — but by now, the thrill of shame was a part of the arousal.
mark sat hunched in bed, legs spread wide, phone pressed to one ear, breath shallow and uneven. the room was dim. just the soft blue glow of his laptop screen lighting his face, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a mile, bare thighs tense and trembling.
the call had barely even rung when you picked up, voice soft and just a little rough like you’d been napping.
“hey,” you said. “what’s up?”
mark’s stomach turned over. the second he heard your voice, his grip tightened, his rhythm stumbling on instinct. he sucked in a breath through his teeth.
“yo,” he rasped. his voice cracked. “you, uh… you busy?”
“nah. im just watching dumb videos. you okay? you sound weird.”
weird. yeah. that was one word for it.
he leaned forward a little, curling into himself, phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder while his other hand kept working over his cock. he was flushed to the neck, chest mottled with heat, pulse visible in his throat.
every time he heard your voice through the speaker, it was like a jolt right to his cock — he could feel the way your mouth moved, imagine how your lips would wrap around syllables if he were just a bit closer.
he bit his bottom lip, hard.
“i’m fine,” he said quickly, too quickly, then swallowed. “just… wanted to talk to you.”
he was already so close and that was humiliating in its own right.
your voice was casual, kind. “oh, yeah? what about?”
mark gritted his teeth, hips twitching upward into his palm. “i… i dunno. just missed your voice.”
a pause. you laughed softly.
“that’s weird. you literally saw me earlier today.”
“i know.”
mark closed his eyes, pressing the heel of his palm against the base of his cock to try and slow himself down. it didn’t help. he was throbbing. leaking. his stomach muscles clenched tight every time you said anything.
“but… i like hearing you.”
you went quiet for a beat. “you sure you’re okay? you sound kinda…”
“i’m fine,” mark said again, but his voice broke in the middle of it, strained and raspy, like he was talking through gritted teeth.
he had to pull the phone back a little as a soft, stuttered moan slipped out of him.
shit.
his hand kept moving — too fast now, driven by pure instinct. he tried to breathe slow, tried to pretend he wasn’t literally jerking off with your voice in his ear, but you weren’t helping.
you chuckled again. “you sound like you’re sweating or something. hot in your room?”
“y-yeah,” mark gasped, closing his fist tighter. “hot. so, so hot.”
his knuckles were turning white around the phone. he pressed it harder to his ear, needing to hear every note of your voice. his eyes fluttered shut, head falling back against the wall behind his bed. sweat was already gathering under his arms, on his lower back, on the backs of his thighs. jus toes curled into the sheets, ankles twitching with every slick stroke of his hand.
you kept talking. talking like everything was normal. like your best friend wasn’t secretly jerking off to your voice and biting his fist to keep from moaning into the receiver.
“you been staying up late again?” you asked. “you really sound tired.”
mark choked on a sound that wasn’t a laugh, wasn’t a sob, wasn’t quite a moan.
“mmh—yeah. c-can’t sleep…”
“you should take melatonin or something. or stop watching porn at 3am.”
if only you knew.
mark was panting now, trying to keep it quiet, but every breath was a tremor. his thighs shook with tension, every muscle in his body drawn tight like a bowstring. he sped up again without meaning to, his body begging for release. it wasn’t just the friction. it was you — your voice, your laugh, the way you sounded like you were half-asleep and smiling through every word.
and fuck, he wanted you to hear. even if it ruined everything.
“hey,” you said again, more curious now. “you really okay? you sound like you’re—”
“i’m f—fuck,” mark hissed through his teeth, a broken sound slipping out before he could stop it.
his back arched. he turned his face into the pillow beside him and bit down, hard. his whole body jerked with need.
“s-sorry, sorry—”
you blinked on the other end. “mark… are you… are you sick or something?”
“n-no,” mark whimpered, voice cracking again.
his chest was heaving, cock twitching wildly in his hand now. the wet slick noises of it were starting to get louder — he was so close it hurt.
“just… ngh—just don’t stop talking. please.”
you paused, clearly confused.
“mark, you sure you’re okay? your voice sounds—like you’re in pain or something. you’re not crying, right?”
he almost was.
“no—n-not crying. j-just…”
his fingers slipped, the slick glide of his palm stuttering for a second. he couldn’t do this much longer. every syllable you said was like fuel thrown on the fire. his entire body was one big live wire, and all it would take was one more second of your voice, soft and unknowing in his ear, and he’d—
“oh fuck—fuckfuck—ah—” he gasped suddenly, louder than he meant to.
he couldn’t stop it. his hips jerked up off the bed, his legs kicked once, hard, heel catching on the sheet.
“shit—”
“mark?”
bit it was too late.
he came with a guttural noise halfway between a gasp and a whimper, hand still pumping as thick heat spilled across his abs, wrist, stomach. his thighs were trembling, whole body shaking, the pleasure rolling over him in uncontrollable, stuttering waves. he clenched the phone so tight it creaked in his palm.
your voice cut through the haze.
“…wait. are you—holy shit. were you jerking off?”
mark froze. his face was bright red, chest heaving, jaw slack as the last pulses of pleasure shook through him.
he didn’t answer. he couldn’t.
the silence stretched — the only thing in his room now was the sound of him breathing. hard and shallow. still a little shaky, his hand still cupped over the base of his cock, half-hard and twitching against his sticky palm.
the mess was cooling on his stomach, and he was pretty sure his heart had stopped beating somewhere between orgasm and panic.
“…mark?”
you sounded different now. not angry. not teasing. just… surprised. confused. and a little quieter. your voice had dropped half a note, softer in a way that made his throat close. mark swallowed.
his voice cracked when he finally said it :
“y-yeah.”
one word. barely more than a whisper.
he shifted in bed, feeling how damp the sheets were under his thighs, how raw his skin felt, sensitive to the air now. still holding the phone, mark let out a low, shaky breath and forced himself to speak again.
“i was. i… i was jerking off.”
silence.
god, he wanted to disappear. the shame was burning. he shut his eyes and dragged a hand down his face, fingers shaking slightly. his cock gave a small, involuntary twitch in his hand even now. he should’ve hung up. should’ve made up some lie. should’ve said anything else.
instead, he added : “i couldn’t stop thinking about your voice. it—fuck, it made it worse. better. i don’t know. i just—needed it.”
there was a pause on the other end. but this one felt different.
“…damn,” you finally said.
the word came out low, cautious.
mark’s breath caught. he squeezed his eyes shut.
“you’re mad,” he mumbled, voice hoarse. “i get it, i’m—fucked up, i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have called—”
“no,” you cut in fast. “no, i’m not mad.”
mark blinked. “you’re… not?”
“i mean…” you hesitated. “that’s kinda… hot.”
mark sat up straighter, heart kicking into a full sprint again. “what?”
your voice was a little different now. lower. a little breathy. “you really called me… while you were doing that?”
mark nodded before realizing you couldn’t see it.
“y-yeah.”
he was still hard. somehow. his body didn’t know how to stop with you still on the phone, your voice suddenly filled with something heavier. curiosity? tension? hunger? whatever it was, it sparked like a live wire right in his chest.
“you… wanted to hear me that bad?” you asked.
and mark could picture the look on your face now — confused, pink-cheeked, maybe biting your lip the way you always did when you were trying to process something fast.
“i did,” mark whispered. “i wanted to imagine you in my ear. i already was. but when i actually heard you… i couldn’t stop. you sounded so warm. like—like you were laying next to me.”
“shit,” you mutter, your breath hitched now. “that’s…”
mark gripped the phone tighter. “what?”
“kind of really hot,” you admitted. “like, weirdly hot.”
something inside mark broke open at that.
his hand reflexively slid down over his cock again — not stroking yet, but holding it, grounding himself in sensation, in your voice and the feeling of still being on the edge, desperate for more. his stomach clenched, hips shifting under the blankets.
“are you…” he tried. “turned on right now?”
a soft exhale from you bedore you anwser.
“yeah.”
the sound mark made wasn’t even a word. just a needy gasp, like he’d been underwater and your answer let him breathe again. he rolled his hips forward a little into his palm, dragging his fingers lightly over the head of his cock. still sensitive. almost unbearable.
“can i come over?” you asked.
mark’s breath hitched. the thought was overwhelming, making his cock twitch even more.
“yes,” he said immediately, too fast, too eager. his voice cracked on it, raw and wet with want. “yes, please—fuck, i want you to.”
there was a pause — not hesitation, but heat. you were quiet for a second, and he could hear you shifting on the other end, probably sitting up now, heart racing like his.
summary: One night during freshers’ week, followed by a quiet disappearance. No promises, no numbers exchanged, no reason to ever see each other again. But when you run into Mark on campus two years later, it becomes painfully clear that some nights don’t stay in the past — no matter how hard you try to leave them there.
pairing: student!mark x female student!reader.
genre: university!au, fluff, crack, angst, strangers to lovers, smut! mdni!
word count: ~15k
warnings: emotional slow burn, blurred lines, it’s giving ✨situationship✨, mark is a sweetheart, like tooth-achingly sweet, alcohol consumption, lots of flirting and awkwardness, he’s shy but confident at the same time(?), he says ‘dude’ a lot (obvs), talks of pregnancy, menstruation and sanitary products, oc is one confused human being pls don’t judge her, smut: fingering, unprotected sex, pull out method is used (don’t be silly), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, light choking, lots of teasing, nipple play, he’s a hard!dom for like a sec and then pathetic again, multiple positions, oral (fem receiving), brief masturbation (he watches lmao), cumshot, cum eating<3, he makes her cum while she’s on her period bc he's a king (she’s wearing a tampon dw), probs more…ya'll should know how unhinged i am by now so read at your own risk.
a/n: hi hi hi hi!! After many many requests, I wholeheartedly give you Mr. top yearner himself, Mark Lee! This part is mostly smut and emotional turmoil bc I had to somehow introduce their backstory. The second part is where shit goes down, so there will be a lot more plot in that one. This story is very dear to me bc it’s basically inspired from real life events (yes, I used to be a messy bitch back in uni, sue me), but my Mark wasn’t as nice as the one in this fic. Anyway, I genuinely hope you guys love it as much as I do and pleaseeeee do let me know your thoughts!! I would also appreciate ideas and guesses for part two as I’m still currently working on it. I can’t wait to read your comments and asks. Please don't hesitate to bombard me.
Love always,
Cookie <3
Part 2 | masterlist | ko-fi
Mark squints against the morning sun, nursing the headache pounding at his temples. Coffee in hand, he trudges along campus with Giselle beside him, who’s already mid-rant about something he’s only half-listening to. Maybe a date? He’s pretty sure it’s not too important anyway.
Last night’s party is still hanging around in his skull like a bad song he can’t skip. Every step feels like it’s happening underwater — students rushing, bikes clattering, the faint smell of coffee — but Mark barely notices
“—and then he—ugh, I can’t even—” she huffs, flopping her arm dramatically against her tote bag.
“Mm,” Mark mumbles, focusing on nothing in particular, willing the throbbing to ease.
Out of the corner of his eye, movement. Someone rushing. Head down. Bag bouncing. Textbook late-for-class energy.
“Giselle!” a voice calls, sharp but friendly.
Mark freezes. Head still fuzzy. He glances over—and it clicks.
Y/N. Shit. What the actual fuck. No way.
His chest stutters in a way that’s both familiar and alarming. Two years ago. One night. One too many drinks. Memories creeping in before his brain has a chance to protest.
“Mark,” she says, gesturing to him, “this is Y/N. We…uh, go to the same Pilates class.”
Simple. Casual. Like nothing else exists.
You raise an eyebrow, calm, clear recognition. “We actually know each other,” you say lightly, voice teasing but neutral. “Small world, huh?”
Mark’s throat goes dry. Words stick. Coffee threatens to slosh. His hangover doesn’t help. He wants to say something witty, something—anything—but his brain refuses to cooperate.
You glance at your phone, already in motion. “Sorry, I’m actually so late. Catch you later Gi!” You pause for a moment. “Good to see you.” That last bit is directed at him and all Mark can do is bob his head like an idiot.
“See you tomorrow!” Giselle exclaims, her chirpy voice penetrating his throbbing skull.
You dart off without another word, back straight, long strides taking you in the opposite direction from the library.
Mark stands frozen for a second, watching the familiar sway of your shoulders disappear down the path, stomach twisting, headache forgotten.
Giselle nudges him. “You good?”
Mark snaps back, clutching his backpack strap like a lifeline. “Yeah…yeah, fine,” he mutters, voice rough. But inside? His heart refuses to behave.
This must be some kind of joke.
“Dude.” Mark’s voice comes out in a whisper. As though he’s wary of people hearing.
Giselle takes an inquisitive look at him. “Why are your eyes so big?”
Great, now he looks insane.
“How do you know her?” Mark asks, completely ignoring Giselle’s valid question. He needs to know.
“I literally just said Pilates?”
“Oh…right.” He keeps walking and Giselle quickly follows. Her expression nothing short of baffled.
“Umm. What am I missing here?” She speaks in a rushed manner as she tries to keep up with Mark’s quick strides. Who is he even running from?
“Nothing.” Mark deflates as he quickens his step. The library couldn’t feel any further.
“Oi, spaz!” Giselle grabs onto Marks elbow. “Slow down and fess up.”
Her demands get through to him. He halts his pace and turns to face his friend properly for the first time since you walked away from them. With a heavy sigh he accepts that even the slight attempt of hiding something from her, would be futile.
“We slept together first week of uni.” The words come out so jumbled, he’d be surprised if Giselle caught them.
“Pardon?”
“We fucked. Two years ago.” He rephrases. Slower this time.
“Sorry. What?” The question more of an indication of shock than a demand of clarification.
“Ever heard of sex?” He tries sarcastically.
“Uh-huh.” Giselle’s frown almost resembles an animated character’s.
“I’ve had it. With her.” He points a thumb towards the direction you earlier walked off to and he can’t help but feel amused at Giselle’s flabbergasted reaction.
“How-”
“A party. Fresher’s week. C’mon dude, switch on please.” He’s embarrassed. Maybe even slightly irritated that his reckless escapades from freshers’ week have become such a big matter of attention.
“Okay. Sorry, I just- I pictured it and now I need someone to reset me.” Giselle pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes closing as if trying to erase the picture from her brain.
Marks rolls his eyes at his friend’s exaggerated gag. “I could flick your big fat head.”
“Okay, okay. So…” She trails expectantly, completely dismissing his irritation.
Mark doesn’t really know what more he can say. He’s elaborated enough.
“Yeah..?” He gestures his hand for her to continue.
“Well, what happened after the…you know.” Giselle’s eyebrows shoot up suggestively.
“The sex?” Mark points out on purpose and snorts a laugh when his friend scrunches up her nose in disgust. He might as well make her feel as uncomfortable as he is.
“Yeah, that.” Giselle nods, the pained expression still on her face.
“I haven’t seen her since. Well, hadn’t.” He admits simply. It’s the truth.
“Shit, so you quite literally just fucked.” It’s a statement but it comes out more like a question.
“Pretty much.” Mark shrugs, struggling to keep an unbothered front. “She sneaked out in the morning and I just never saw her again.”
“You didn’t get her number or…?”
“I mean, I didn’t really get the chance. Plus…” He pauses to think. Or more like reminisce.
It was his first night out on campus, and you? You were the first person he noticed when he stepped foot in that house party. The first girl he brought back to his tiny, undecorated dorm at the time.
He didn’t really expect anything more than what he got. That’s what he approached you for initially. But he also didn’t expect you to disappear without so much of word after the night you had together.
Mark still thinks about it sometimes. Not because it was magical or anything of the sort. If anything, his performance could easily be described as bang out average.
What he really thinks about is how you two stayed up for hours. Naked. Talking, kissing, fucking then talking and kissing, then fucking again. He thinks about how he felt so comfortable. So at peace but also confused at the same time. How you’d only known him for a few hours but still trusted him enough to fall asleep on his chest, in that small first-year dorm bed.
Mark, never having been the naive type, he knew he couldn’t just date the first girl he met at the first party he went to on campus, but spending days typing your first name in his instagram search bar definitely wasn’t on his bingo card. Not only that, but unintentionally searching for you at pubs, bars, parties, uni corridors for weeks? Yeah, that certainly wasn’t on his bingo card.
“Plus, it wasn’t anything serious.” He concludes, sounding almost defensive.
“Aww, Markie poo. Did she break your heart?” Giselle pouts performatively.
“Tsk.” Mark kisses his teeth in annoyance, adamantly refusing to succumb to her mocking, as he resumes his quick steps. Giselle, of course, unfortunately for him, isn’t one to let things go. So she matches his pace.
“Oh, come on. I’m just playing-
“Wait. So, if you’re, like, friends,” Mark abruptly turns, index accusingly pointing at her, his steps coming to a halt again and Giselle exhales in relief. “How come you’ve never mentioned her?”
“I literally met her a month ago. She was on a year abroad last year.” Ah. Well, that certainly explains a lot.
“Damn, that’s cool.” He utters in surprise, as though he was hoping you were some kind of loser who was hiding out in a library. Meanwhile, you were out in god knows what country, doing god knows what and god knows who.
“Damn, you falling back in love already?” Giselle coos annoyingly and Mark starts walking again, dismissive of her teasing. “Wait! I’m sorry! At least tell me if the sex was good. Oh my god, is she like the best you’ve ever had? Is that why you’re hung up on her?”
“You’re a nuisance.” He mutters grumpily.
“Awh, really? I mean I could invite her to Chenle’s on Saturday but if I’m such a nuisance then I guess I won’t bother-
“Wait. Actually?” Mark’s head snaps toward his friend a lot quicker than he can comprehend, sounding too hopeful and probably a little pathetic, and Giselle’s sinister grin makes him realise his slip up.
Damn it.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
Mark’s patience started to waver about two days ago. Now it’s close to non-existent.
There’s no way you’re not toying with him. You’re everywhere. Wherever he goes. The library? Tick. The park? Tick. The main building cafeteria? Tick. The psychology building cafeteria? Tick. His favourite café? Tick.
How can someone go from not existing to occupying every corner of this plane earth?
He’d gotten accustomed to not worrying about bumping into you, but now he’s always wary. Always alert. He’s even started putting more effort in his outfits, just in case you see him. Even though, he’s pretty sure you never notice him. At least not like he notices you.
And however wary he is, he still feels taken aback each time he comes across your presence.
And now, Mark is annoyed. Because he simply can’t enjoy his Saturday night like he always does.
He can’t get absolutely plastered with his friends like he always does to forget about deadlines and assignments. Because what if you’re here, at this very party? Yeah, Giselle did invite you and of course, you gave a very vague response — something along the lines of ‘yeah, that sounds like fun’ — and of course, you’re allowed to do as you please, but what if you turn up out of nowhere while Mark is blackout drunk? What if he embarrasses himself in front of you? Or worse, what if his big gob utters something stupid? God forbid.
And so, he takes it easy tonight. Small sips. Slowly consuming whatever his cup contains. He thinks it’s vodka with some kind of tropical mixer. Not really his cup of tea, but he settled anyway.
“What sort of pace is this?” Chenle asks, sounding almost offended.
“Huh?” Mark looks up from his cup, one hand swirling the liquid in his cup, the other splayed on the back of the sofa behind Chenle’s shoulders.
“Your drinking pace is embarrassing.” The younger boy explains. “We got no practice on Monday, so the whole two-day hangover excuse ain’t gonna save you this time.”
“I got other commitments too, you know.” Mark side eyes his friend. “Basketball isn’t my only worry, I’m in final year.”
“Blah blah blah. Don’t give me that shit, you’re acing all your exams. Pretty sure you’re on for a first class.” Chenle babbles loudly, definitely tipsy by now and Mark can’t help but wrap his arm around his friend’s shoulders, playfully trapping him in a headlock. Chenle doesn’t even fight him off, comfortably resting his head on Mark’s shoulder.
“Since when do you worry so much about me, huh?” Mark teases, squeezing Chenle into his side.
“Since when are you so affectionate?” Chenle questions suspiciously.
“I thought you said being a little gay for your bros is acceptable.” Mark defends, referring to the time they spooned while having a drunk, deep meaningful conversation about their childhood trauma and then fell asleep.
“Don’t remind me. I’ll get hard.”
“Get off me.” Mark shoves a giggling Chenle away, squishing him against a random girl sat next to them. And just like that, in the midst of apologising, Chenle’s already compromised attention span works in Mark’s favour, because a few minutes later, the younger boy is entrapped in a flirty conversation with the girl that laughs a little too loud at his bad jokes.
Thankfully, Mark’s gaze catches Giselle’s, who’s stood by the kitchen counter. She excitedly waves him over, holding a shot of clear liquid in each hand and he can’t help but scrunch his nose in disgust. The tilt of her head along with the disappointed expression on her face does enough to convince him.
Fuck it. One shot won’t hurt. He’s a big boy.
He spills a bit of his drink as he squeezes through the swamp of people that occupies the living room. Pitbull blares through the speakers and Mark realises that shot is definitely needed. He’s too sober for this chaos, so he rushes for the kitchen.
“Honestly, how the fuck does Chenle get girls so-
Mark is pretty sure the colour drains from his face the second he steps in the kitchen vicinity. There you are. Again. Like his fucking shadow. Haunting him. Only this time you’re mid-laugh, perched up on the counter, a filled shot glass in your hand and Mark realises that he’s walked right into Giselle’s trap.
“Hey, loser.” Giselle interrupts his trance, casually shoving the spare shot glass in his free hand. “Here. Do a shot with us.”
“Umm. Yeah, okay.” Mark doesn’t have the time to ponder his actions. As though he’s on autopilot, the second you and Giselle down your shots, he tips his head back, doing the same. He doesn’t even flinch at the burn, probably in need of it and the second his eyes land on yours, Giselle starts violently coughing.
“Jesus.” He mutters, quickly grabbing an empty glass from the counter, filling it with tap water before passing it to his struggling friend. “Down it, you idiot.”
And Giselle starts doing just that, but before she can finish the contents of the glass, she’s covering her mouth in panic. Mark steps closer, and the second he touches her shoulder in concern, she’s running out of the kitchen and down the hallway where the bathroom is.
Fucking brilliant.
“Do you think she needs help?” Your voice penetrates his ears, urging him to turn around and face you. As always, taken aback by your presence.
“I- um- nah. Nah don’t worry. She’ll be fine.” Mark tries to sound reassuring, but his voice has a slight tremble to it. Get a grip, dude.
“I can go check up on her if-
“Honestly, she’ll be fine. The woman can never stomach shots. Trust me.” His words are rushed. Partly because he’s telling the truth, and partly because he refuses to miss the opportunity of whatever this is.
“Are you two together then?”
“What? No.” He shakes his head so fast his neck slightly cramps. “No, we’re not. Just friends. We live together.”
He relaxes a little when you nod. A tight lipped smile adorns your pretty face and for the first time in what feels like forever, Mark finally gets the chance to take you in.
Here you are, again. Right in front of him. So close. Looking at him. As pretty as he remembers you. Albeit looking different in a way, still carrying the same calm aura.
“What?” You ask softly, smile a little lopsided.
“Nothing. Just — don’t worry.” He shakes his head again, eyes drifting down to his hands, twirling his drink in his cup again to distract himself from his fast heartbeat. “It’s weird.”
“I like weird.” You’re still smiling when he meets your eyes again.
His eyebrows raise a little when you pat the spot next to you, silently asking him to join you on the counter as more people crowd the kitchen.
His shoulder brushes yours briefly when he hoists himself up, the warmth hard to miss. He does his best to steady his breathing but feels like he’s miserably falling when he breathes in your sweet perfume. “I dunno. Just weird seeing you. Feels like I’m seeing a ghost. Kind of.”
God, that sounds so lame. He almost winces in pain.
“Wait, how do we know each other again? I know we do, but I’m having trouble placing you.” You say in genuine wonderment and Mark feels his heart drop to his stomach. He miserably prays that you’re playing a horrible prank on him, but your perplexed eyes tell him otherwise.
“You don’t re- we- um- freshers week? C’mon. Surely you remember.” He tries subtly, hoping he won’t have to spell it out for you.
You shake your head in denial. “I honestly have no clue what you’re on about.”
Fuck. You have actually forgotten. Were you that drunk or was that night so insignificant to you?
This is fucking horrifying. A nightmare he's hoping he can wake up from. “Yo, seriously?”
“Remind me?” You suggest lightheartedly, with the most innocent smile. “I have the worst memory, I’m sorry.”
What the actual fuck.
“Wha- you actually don’t remember? Like no recollection whatsoever?” He checks one more time, hating that he sounds so desperate. He really finds it hard to believe that you’ve forgotten a night he remembers so vividly. A night he often has to lock up in the back of his mind.
You snort, a short laugh escaping as your face shows nothing but amusement. “You’re really gullible, you know.”
Jail. You belong in jail for that. He’s suing you for emotional damage.
He scoffs loudly, hating that he almost fell for it.
You laugh a little louder this time and he can’t help the little smile that curls on his lips. “You fucking- are you having me on?”
“Sorry, it was just too easy.”
“Dude.” He whines, hiding his face in his hands. “That is actually vile behaviour. You’re going to hell.”
“For being too funny?” Your comical expression would have normally pissed him off if you weren’t this captivating.
He doesn’t have a comeback. He just stares straight ahead, jaw clenching to retain a smile, hands struggling not to squish the plastic cup in them and he almost flinches when your foot kicks his. Intentional, playful, soft as ever.
“Of course, I remember.” Your gaze burning his side profile is so difficult to ignore. So he succumbs. Head turning to face you, eyes finding yours. “Kinda hard to forget.”
“Really? That bad?” He jokes, although, he’s worried he might be right.
You breathe out a cute laugh, eyes dropping to your fumbling hands, fingers playing with the rip on your jeans. “I’m not insulting your performance, Mark Lee.”
He’s positive he’s blushing. His face and neck feel hot, hands are sweating and he’s very aware of your proximity. The music is loud enough for you to lean closer to speak.
“What are you insulting then?”
“I could be praising you know.” You side eye him for a reaction he refuses to offer. “Unless you’re not into that anymore.”
He can’t help the shocked laugh that escapes his throat. How can someone be so forward? Bringing up a kink of his you clocked back then? Outrageous. Uncalled for. And honestly? Kind of sexy.
“Well, this is embarrassing.” Mark nervously downs the remainder of his drink in a big gulp at a failed attempt to cool down as he’s pretty sure steam is coming out of his ears that don’t fail to pick up at the loud snort you let out.
“See? I remember a lot more than you think.” You tap your temple with your index finger. A harmless gesture, which Mark finds inexplicably attractive.
“Why hard to forget?” He redirects the subject, refusing to have a nervous breakdown before he finds out what’s important.
You seem skeptical, as though you’re assessing your words before you utter them and Mark’s nerves resurface. “I guess there’s no harm in telling you now.”
“What?” He presses impatiently.
Did he get you pregnant or something? Oh god, is that why you disappeared? Does he currently have a two-year old child running about?
“Okay, don’t make it a big deal.”
“Shit. Do I have a kid?” He accidentally thinks out loud.
“What? No, Mark, what the- no!” Your loud laugh helps him relax a little and he can’t help but notice the way you lightly shove him by the shoulder as you throw your head back. At least one of you is amused. “I was just gonna say— that it was my first time.”
Oh.
OH.
“Huh?” It comes out louder than intended. He can’t help it. You’re definitely lying. “As in you never— before that?“
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Shit.” He can feel his eyes widening to the max as he looks around in shock. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” You’re clearly holding back a laugh and Mark feels like he desperately needs air. Or a whole bottle of vodka. Yeah, that would do.
“I don’t know.” He panics. “I just— I mean, your first time is— you know, important. It should mean something. No?”
You narrow your eyes at him for a second and Mark decides he’s going to die. Here, tonight, in Chenle’s fancy kitchen. “First of all. That couldn’t be more of a stereotype. Second of all. Who said it didn’t mean anything?”
“I mean, it was pretty obvious it didn’t.” The words roll out like waterfall.
“What?”
“How much could it have meant if you just…left?” That seems to shut you up, your eyes wider than before, mouth slightly open. “Without a word.” He adds. He had to say it. After all this time, he finally gets to complain about something that bothered him long enough and he feels relief. A weight lifted off his shoulders.
He expects you to argue. To defend yourself, and the little nod you give, somewhat shocks him.
“Fair point.” Your attention returns to the rip on your thigh, your fingers pulling at the loose threads.
“I didn’t do anything weird, right? Like, I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable in any way, or…?” He can’t help but worry that maybe it was all too much for you, considering you hadn’t been with anyone else prior to that. Maybe that’s why you quietly escaped in the morning?
“No. Not at all.” You quickly shake your head with a sweet smile. “If anything, I don’t think it could have been any better.”
Mark feels relief wash over him, his limbs instantly relaxing. He nods with a satisfied pout on his face but inside he’s proudly gloating.
“Well, I’m glad I—ummm, you know.” He realises that whatever he’s about to say, could easily be misconstrued.
“You’re glad you took my v-card?” You ask with an amused frown and he can’t help but roll his eyes. Mostly at his stupidity, but also at your relentless teasing.
“No.” He gives you a pointed look. “Just glad I didn’t ruin it for you.”
Your fond smile makes him feel warm. In a good way this time.
“Can I ask you something?” He blurts out, curiosity getting the better of him. You simply give him a small nod as you take a small sip of your drink. “How come you didn’t say anything? Not that you had to obviously. I just feel like I would have been more careful if you had.”
“That’s exactly why I didn’t.” Your purse your lips in thought. “I would have. But, with you, I figured it was unnecessary.”
“Oh, sorry, was I a little too vanilla for you?” He complains sarcastically.
“I’m not gonna give you feedback.” You retort with a grin and Mark swears your cheeks weren’t as flushed a minute ago.
“I didn’t ask you to.” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance.
It could be his delusion, but Mark feels tension brewing, and he wonders if it’s just him. Maybe it’s the alcohol finally catching up to him, but your silence betrays something he can’t quite decipher.
“Was it not obvious then?” You interrupt his inner thoughts, the question simple, easy to answer, but Mark’s brain short circuits for a moment.
“I mean, I wasn’t that experienced myself.” He clears his throat once. “I just thought we were both shy. Clearly that’s not the case for you anymore.”
“That a problem?”
“Nah. It’s been what? Two years? And you’ve spent a year in a foreign country. I’d be surprised if you were the exact same person.” He explains and he circles the rim of his cup slowly, suddenly a little bashful, but content at the same time.
“What about you? You think you’re still shy?” You slowly reach over, hand gently wrapping around his wrist gently before you bring his hand to your lap. Mark is about to question your actions but your fingers delicately untying the knot of his bracelet make him hold back his protest.
“At times.” He responds as he watches you fix the knot carefully.
And when you’re done and he’s about to remove his hand, your hold tightens, preventing him. His breathing stutters and so does his pulse. The heat of your skin on his, too much for him to handle, but he still obliges, letting his hand rest limp on your thigh, palm facing up, unable to properly touch you, but still enough for his brain to remember things. To remember how he touched you that night. How you touched him.
“What about now? Feeling shy?” You don’t meet his gaze when he looks at you, your eyes still on his hand as your thumb traces his pulse point. Goosebumps litter his skin, the tiny twitch of your lips telling him you’ve noticed.
“I don’t know. Do I seem shy?” Answering with a question is the only way his brain can muster.
“Hmm.” You finally eye him, carefully inspecting his face, and he feels exposed. “Maybe a little. I kinda think that’s part of your charm, though.”
His eyebrows lift in genuine surprise. “My charm?”
“Mhm.”
“You think I’m charming?” He can’t conceal the stupid smile that erupts on his face. Weak man. Maybe he does have a praise kink.
“You managed to get me in your bed. I’m not that easy.” You say with a casual shrug. Too casual. And Mark has to look away. If he could, he’d run away, but your damn hand is still wrapped around his arm, locking him down. It’s your fault he can’t escape and definitely not the fact that he doesn’t want to ever pull away from your touch.
“Dude, are you, like, flirting with m—“
“Do you wanna come back to mine?” Again, you’re too casual. No ounce of hesitation, just plain expectation.
“Now?” It’s the only word he can come up with.
“I mean, at some point tonight would be ideal, yes.” Your smirk irritates him. He wants to kiss it off your face. Maybe he can if he agrees to go back with you.
Should he?
“You want me to fuck you again?” He only realises he’s said the lewd words out loud by the widening of your eyes. Why does he always end up putting his foot in his mouth?
“To put it plainly, yeah, I guess I want you to fuck me again.” You say with the most demure smile.
The contrast scares him. You scare him. He should have been wise and ran for the hills the second he laid eyes on you two years ago.
“I didn’t mean to say it like that.” He rushes to apologise but you cut him off with a squeeze around his wrist.
“Yay or nay?” You ask, a hint of impatience in your tone that makes Mark bite his lip to hide a smile. You’ve got one eyebrow raised, expression almost offended at the delay in his reply.
He quickly hops off the counter, empty cup forgotten on the surface, the skin on the arm you were touching only seconds ago, already tingling. But he’s made his decision.
You seem taken aback, the crease between your eyebrows betraying your confusion. And if Mark were to take a guess, he could say there’s a trace of disappointment in your eyes.
You’re about to hop off the counter when he cages you in. Almost in panic at the thought of you walking away from him. Your ass is on the edge of the surface and he can’t help but smile at the way you quickly grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself.
“Where you off to?” He asks quietly, only for you to hear. His hands settling on each side on you on the counter as he steps closer.
“Nowhere.” You match his tone, legs parting, allowing him to take up the space between them as your hands trail down to his chest. Your touch soft on his jumper, but he can still feel the weight of it.
He’s positive you can feel his insane heart trying to jump out of his rib cage. He doesn’t mind. Not when he gets to have you this close and feel the heat radiating off your body.
“Do you think about it?” His voice comes out in a whisper but he knows you hear him. “That night?”
“Sometimes.” You admit. Eyes anywhere but on his; avoidant.
“Are you embarrassed?” He leans down a little, levelling with you and you smile bashfully as you finally meet his gaze.
“More like flustered.” Your hands travel down to his stomach as your knees squeeze him in and he moves even closer, his torso flush against yours.
“Tell me. What do you think about?” He whispers, his lips brushing against the bridge of your nose as your hands slowly slide lower, until your fingers hook into his belt loops.
“Not here.” Your breath hits his chin and he desperately wants to lean in, but he refrains, enjoying your squirming a little too much.
“Why not?” He tilts his head, your lips just millimetres away. His hands decide to move on their own, finding their way to your waist as you inhale deeply. “Whatever it is, I’ve probably already thought about it.”
Your cocky expression annoys him. “Do I often occupy your mind?”
“You used to.” He admits openly as he delicately strokes along your ribs, thumbs smoothing over the undersides of your bra, your thin top making the touch more intense.
You smile smugly as you let your fingers slip under the hem of his hoodie, finding the bare skin of his lower abdomen and he hates that the simplest of touches affects him so much. It’s all effortless. Just a trace of a finger has him weak in the knees, his breath unstable, lips aching to be on yours.
“Mark?” You lean closer, your forehead dropping on his shoulder as you exhale a trembling breath.
“Hm?” He traces his knuckles up and down your spine, his other hand splaying on your lower back, where your skin is uncovered.
“I’m so wet right now, it’s fucking embarrassing.”
“Jesus.” He whispers, lips touching your ear and he feels your shudder as his hand slithers in your hair, lightly tugging to get you to look at him.
Your hands clutch at his belt, not really initiating anything, just holding. It’s enough for his blood to rush where it shouldn’t, heart pounding. Your hooded eyes don’t help either, and if it weren’t for the people occupying the kitchen, he’d be bending you over this counter right this second. The scandalous thought very unlike him.
“There’s a spare room here. I stay in it sometimes after basketball practice.” He suggests carefully, not really possessing the patience to go back to either of your apartments. Fuck being in an uber with a hard on.
You seem skeptical for a moment. “You ever fucked anyone in it?”
“No.” He answers quickly. “I don’t really do one ni—“
“Okay, yeah.” You nod, teeth trapping your bottom lip as you not-so-subtly stare at his mouth.
He knows what you want. He wants the same thing. But when he kisses you, it’s going to be private. No people staring or interrupting.
So he pulls away. Your shaky exhale makes him smile proudly. He made you nervous.
“Come.” He takes your hand in his when you’re back on your feet and he feels giddy at how easily you comply, how you follow him, naturally clinging onto his arm as he guides you through the crowd.
You squeeze on his bicep with the hand that’s not in his to get his attention and he slightly leans down to hear you over the music. You point your chin over to the occupied sofa, cheeky smile taking over your face as you take in the sight of a perfectly healthy Giselle, laughing her lungs out at something Chenle is so passionately rambling on about.
Mark shakes his head with a smile, but mentally makes a note to later grill his friend about the totally fake throwing up incident. He doesn’t even say anything, just keeps walking down the hallway, where both bedrooms are.
When you both enter the neat spare room, he shuts the door behind him and sighs at the loud crowd and music becoming nothing but a background noise.
“Is this Chenle guy rich or something?” You ask curiously as you look around, inspecting the spacious room.
Mark lets out a quick laugh, eyes following you around, observing you. “Yeah. His parents are loaded. Pretty sure his dad owns this whole building.”
You nod with an approving pout and all Mark can think is how adorable you look as you fumble with the bedside lamp, trying to figure out how it works. The second it illuminates, you let out an exaggerated gasp, your eyes widening and Mark doesn’t know what takes over him but he flicks the main lights off, surprising both of you.
He leans back on the door, resting his weight there, hands at the small of his back as he patiently waits for your next move.
“Smooth.” You comment with a small grin as you place the small lamp back in its spot.
He just shrugs, mirroring your expression as you slowly retrace your steps, walking back towards him. It’s difficult for him not to blush as you get closer and closer; his heart threatening to beat out of his chest again and again and he awkwardly lifts a hand to rub against his jawline. His eyes rake over you unintentionally, taking in the outfit you’ve got on tonight. It’s simple; an off-shoulder crop top and light-washed baggy jeans. Pretty. Easy to remove.
He feels hot at the thought of undressing you. What if he’s too clumsy? What if your earrings get tangled in your top? What if he accidentally pulls your hair?
“Are you just gonna stand there?” You speak tentatively, as though you’re enjoying the silence. You seem a lot more composed and calm than him. Not like someone who not too long ago uttered the words ‘I’m so wet right now. It’s fucking embarrassing’, but then again, maybe you’re always like this. Fluctuating.
“Where do you want me?” He asks, not intending for the words to sound sexual, but somehow, they do, and he has to close his eyes for a moment. Composure slowly slipping away.
“To be honest, you look pretty good just like this” You halt in front of him, but still out of reach. “But for tonight’s purposes, ideally, I’d want you on the bed.” Fuck. “Unless you have any other ideas.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Dude.” He exhales a pained laugh, hand covering his eyes in frustration. You simply just giggle at his misery.
Without him seeing, your hands are suddenly on him; one touching his chest, the other peeling his hand away from his face, forcing him to look at you. And he’s definitely not complaining. Before he has time to take in your pretty face, your palm is engulfing the back of his neck, pulling him down to your level.
He’s not sure who finally closes the gap, his mind too occupied with the softness of your lips and the way they slot with his. So effortlessly. Deja vu is inevitable when your arms wrap around his neck, holding him closer, and his limbs suddenly come back to life; the sliver of skin between your top and jeans so soft under his touch and so are your hands trailing from his hair down to the sides of his neck.
The kiss is slow, sensual, almost romantic and the little noise of satisfaction you let out goes straight to his already hardening cock. The way you kiss him, contrasts the demeanour you've held up until now. You’re going along with the pace he sets. You’re not leading and he wonders if it’s deliberate. Can he just do however he pleases with you or will you eventually take the upper hand?
He decides it’s worth a try by slipping a hand into your hair, tilting your head to the side so he can easily slip his tongue into your eager mouth and he’s rewarded with a low moan of yours, your lips parting for him, allowing him to taste you properly as you lazily glide your tongue with his.
He moves on autopilot, slowly walking you backwards. One hand still in your hair, the other hovering above your ass, keeping you close.
“Shoes—mph—off.” He mumbles against your lips before you obscenely lick into his mouth and he can’t hold back the grunt that escapes his throat.
It all becomes messy so quickly. His hands clumsily unbutton your jeans as you rush to kick your shoes off without breaking the kiss, both of you gasping and laughing as you stumble over your feet. You’ve somehow managed to turn the situation around and he only realises when the backs of his knees hit the mattress.
His back hits the covers with a push from you and within seconds, you’re straddling his thighs; bare legs on either side of him as you go back to kissing him. He surprises himself with the noise he lets out when both his hands grope your ass. Not just because it’s your ass he’s touching, but mainly because of the lack of underwear, and he’d love to comment on your hastiness but at this point he doesn’t really care. As long as he’s got you naked and in bed, he’s a content man.
“Take your top off.” He instructs in a whisper, and you oblige without a question, sitting up in a heartbeat and removing the last piece of clothing you’ve got on. No bra underneath and he mentally thanks the heavens. “Fuck.”
His hands caress your thighs absentmindedly as he takes in the sight above him. There’s something about the fact that you’re fully naked, while he’s not removed a single article of clothing. And you’re not rushing him either, patiently letting him enjoy the view, hands on his chest, ass directly above the very prominent bulge in his jeans. You seem comfortable in your nakedness and that turns him on even more, cock twitching in its confines.
“C’mon. Nothing you haven’t seen before.” Your voice is sultry, patience clearly wearing thin as his hands remain on your thighs and he abruptly sits up, crashing his mouth onto yours. One hand holds the back of your neck as the other slips between your bodies, shamelessly cupping your entire pussy, the heel of his palm rubbing against your undeniably swollen clit.
“Fuck, you’re…” He’s not able to form a complete sentence, interrupted by the loud moan you let out against his lips.
“I told you. It’s embarrassing.” Your fingers thread in his hair, desperately pulling, driving him insane.
“It’s fucking hot.” He’s corrects, completely enamoured with the way your body responds to him. You’re literally grinding on his hand, seeking relief, kissing him like a starved woman, spit coating both of your lips as he sucks on your tongue, earning a cute whine from you.
“Feel like I’m dripping on your jeans.” You complain, breathing harshly as the pads of his fingers slide between your drenched folds, spreading your arousal, making a mess between your legs.
“Cause you are.” He whispers with a smug grin.
He purposely avoids your clit, in the mood to tease you as his lips drag from your jaw down to the base of your neck. His tongue makes contact with your sweaty skin, tasting salt, your scent engulfing him as his hold on your hair tightens, pulling your head back to gain full access to your sensitive skin.
“Please, I really need you to fuck me.” You murmur weakly, the hoarseness of your voice causing his heart to quicken and his cock to throb painfully.
He’s so fucked. Beyond salvation. And you’re so fucking needy. But he doesn’t want to give into you just yet. It’s his turn to torment you a little.
“In a bit.” He dismisses your pleas with another suck on your neck, your crazy pulse delicious on his tongue.
“Mark—“
“Shh. You can wait a little longer.” Two of his fingers tease your entrance, slowly circling, dipping shallowly before slipping out and repeating the action.
He almost feels bad when your body starts trembling, so he snakes his arm around your middle, holding you as close as possible. Your messy kisses on his neck are cut short the second his fingers ease into you, following the curve of your cunt until they’re knuckles-deep. And when he curls them slightly, your walls tighten and so do your arms around his neck, face burying in his neck as he starts to slowly pump in and out, making sure to repeatedly hit that spot that made you tremble.
“This feel good?” He whispers against your shoulder, arm tightening around you, the pads of his fingers almost reaching your side boob.
“Yeah.” You sigh, sounding wrecked already and that urges him to quicken the pace. He starts jackhammering his fingers into you, cunt greedily sucking them inside, your slick dripping down his wrist, smearing on his jeans and the sleeve of his jumper. The filthy thought of never washing his clothes again crosses his unhinged mind.
You’re both sweating unimaginably, and now he wishes he’d at least taken a layer off, but he pays no mind to that as your body tenses. “You close?”
“Yeah. Don't stop.” Your nails dig into the skin of his nape, most likely leaving crescent moons and he desperately needs you to come before he combusts in his trousers.
He starts slamming the heel of his hand into your clit, making sure you’re being stimulated to the max and your whiny exhale reassures him. “Cum.”
And you do. Body tensing up for a moment before you start trembling against him, the secure arm around you helping you stay upright as you gasp for air.
“Oh my god.” Your hips buck up, pussy spasming violently around his fingers as he fucks you through it all.
“You’re okay.” His knuckles caressing your spine, attempting to calm you down as your body gradually goes limp on him.
“I think I just saw god.” You mumble half-conscious, causing Mark to let out a little laugh.
“Did you say hi?” He steals a little kiss off your cheek as he slowly pulls his fingers out. Your shudder makes him smile fondly and he lets his fingers lazily caress your slit, before they gently circle your swollen bundle of nerves.
“You’ve definitely been in at least one relationship since l last saw you.” The statement catches him off guard, and he pulls back a little to look at you.
“What makes you say that?”
You blink lazily, sweat dripping down the sides of your face. “You found my g-spot. Real fucking quick as well.”
“I need a girlfriend for that?”
“Well, someone’s taught you.” Your smile is teasing and so is the light touch of your fingers on his jaw.
“Situationships, I guess. No girlfriend though.” He takes in your expression, heart beating a little quicker at your silence. “Red flag?”
You give him a sweet smile. “I just came. All your flags are bright green right now”
He mirrors your expression as he leans in, silently asking for a kiss, which you easily give, slowly dragging your swollen lips against his.
“Wanna keep going?” He speaks softly, praying for an affirmative response.
“Yes, please.”
He moans at your words, hands trailing up your sides until they’re cupping your tits, tongue sloppily licking into your mouth. The whine you let out as he pinches your nipples, spurs him on, and he squeezes the supple flesh a little harder.
“Can I just fuck you? Please? I promise I’ll go down on you later.” The begging tone his voice carries almost makes him cringe. Pitiful.
You let out a yelp when he flips you over, your back on the mattress now, and he can’t help but notice the way your tits bounce a little as well as the slippery mess between your spread thighs.
“Yeah, no more foreplay.” You sit up as he stands between your legs that hang off the edge of the bed. “And take that stupid jumper off right now.”
He chuckles lightly at your frustration but obliges anyway. His jumper and t-shirt are off in one go and he quickly kicks his shoes off as you start unbuckling his belt, lust-clouded eyes gazing up at him.
“Don’t look at me like that.” He rasps as his hands join yours, quickly unbuttoning and unzipping.
“Like what?” Your seductive tone clouds his head and the kisses you start leaving down his happy trail make his hands shake.
You don’t give him time to answer, immediately shoving both his boxers along with his trousers down, deeming him incapable of thinking properly. Your warm exhale hits him straight where it hurts, his throbbing length twitching the second you wrap a hand around the base.
“Get on your all fours.” He instructs, tone purposely devoid of any warmth. He’s had enough of your games now. But still, his hands engulf each side of your face, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks. “Or I just cum on your face and we call it a night. Up to you.”
Your smirk is sinister as you scoot up the bed until your head hits the pillows and you swiftly turn on your front, knees spread wide, supporting your lower half as you arch your back like a pro, tits squishing against the mattress.
“Holy shit.” He exhales in awe.
You’re on full display. Ass up in the air, cunt staring right through his soul, inviting him in, and who is he to decline such an invite? As though the mental breakdown he’s experiencing isn’t enough, you shamelessly slip a hand between your legs, two fingers sliding through your dripping folds.
“Markie, please. It hurts.” You briefly look over your shoulder with a performative pout, shamelessly putting on a show for him.
“What the fuck.” He’s lost for words, standing there butt naked, staring at your fingers circling your clit before they slowly trail up, catching at your clenching hole and easily slipping in.
You’re an evil evil woman. He decides right there and then. And the moment you start fucking yourself, he sees red, any resolve left, completely forgotten.
He’s on his knees behind you within seconds. Hand ripping your fingers away before shoving your face against the pillows by the back go your head. His cock slips inside easily, walls vacuuming him in and he doesn’t wait for you to adjust; his free hand grabbing your waist as he starts slamming into you.
“You’re fucking filthy, you know that?” He grunts through your high pitched moaning. “Been torturing me since day one.”
Your muffled voice sounds like a song he’s been trying to find for a long time and he’s finally succeeded.
“M—markie,” You sound like you’re crying and he loves it. “Fuck, it's so good.”
“Shut up.” His thrusts become more intense, balls harshly slapping against your pussy, the wet sounds of your walls suctioning around him each time he pulls out, sending him into a frenzy. “I bet this is what you wanted—fuck—to piss me off. Huh?”
“N-no — I just wanted you.” You mumble in your delirious state, and of course, it goes straight to his head.
His eyes focus on the way his cock slips in and out of your sopping hole. A white ring of slick has already formed at his base and he’s afraid he might finish sooner than expected.
So he buries himself to the hilt to take a much needed moment. His head dips back in ecstasy, a low groan rumbling in his chest as he tries his best to compose himself and when he looks back down, your droopy eyes are already on him, neck twisted as you stare over your shoulder, face half-hidden.
You look nothing short of ethereal. Your skin glowing in sweat, back still arched beautifully, eyes glistening with want and unshed tears as they roll back briefly the second Mark experimentally grinds a little too deep.
“Mark?” Your voice is broken, his name sounding like a prayer.
“Hm?” He leans down, nose nuzzling against yous jaw as he keeps grinding his hips slowly, relishing in the mewls you let out.
“Want you close.” You whisper into the pillow, a little whimper adorning the end of your sentence. Your desperation breaks him.
“I’m here.” He reassures you with a sweet kiss on your cheek. “D’you wanna change positions?”
Your tiny nod pulls at his heartstrings in a way that’s foreign to him. He’s always been gentle by nature, soft spoken, sensitive. But this is untouched territory.
“Alright,” He leaves a kiss on your shoulder as he pulls out. Gentle hand patting your thigh. "C’mon, turn around."
With rushed movements, you eagerly flop on your back and his hips find home between your parted legs, the soft skin of your inner thighs dragging against his sides, making him shudder as he slowly slips back into you with a choked moan.
“You can still be rough. Just wanted to touch you.” You admit bashfully, eyes blinking up at him, eyebrows tensing as he bottoms out with a loud squelch.
Your hand delicately brushes the hair off his drenched forehead, your fingers threading through the strands and the clenching and unclenching of your velvety walls cause his eyes to flutter closed —the intense feeling of contentment clogging his brain up.
It’s unholy. The effect you have on him. It’s fucked. It makes no sense to him. He barely knows you, yet he welcomes everything you give him. Gives into everything you ask for, like it’s some sort of ritual. Something predetermined. A done deal with the universe. Like he’d burn in hell if he resisted.
“Do you actually want me to be rough?” He searches your face for a sign, but he only finds conflict.
“I dunno. I’m confused.”
“About what?” He carefully settles his weight on top of you, arm by your head, free hand caressing your ribs delicately, barely cupping the underside of your breast.
“I um—I liked it just now. How you were. But I kind of just—“ You sigh in frustration, hips slowly raising for some friction.
“Want it slow?” He matches your rhythm, grinding into you, going as deep as he can as he awaits for a verbal response. He doesn’t need it. Your bent legs spreading even further is enough confirmation, but he wants to hear it anyway. “You know I don’t mind vanilla.”
His joke lands. Your breathy laugh, hard to ignore as it hits warm on his shoulder.
“Don’t make jokes right now.” You scold with a little whine.
“Why not?” He gives you a chaste kiss before setting a slow pace; deep languid thrusts, his fingers fisting the pillow by your head as he tries to hold back from giving into the sensation of your warm, gummy walls enveloping his sensitive cock.
“You’re literally balls deep inside me.” Your hands pull his face closer, connecting your lips again, small pants mingling as you kiss him as slow as he’s fucking you.
“Whatever.” He mumbles dreamily in your mouth, palm finally engulfing your boob, gently squeezing the soft flesh and he involuntarily delivers a harsher thrust. “Shit, sorry.”
It’s not his fault. Your pussy tightening every time he does something new, has him reeling, losing the little control he’s got over his actions.
“No, keep going, it feels good.” You kiss him harder, holding both of his cheeks desperately as he quickens his movements a little, hips lightly slapping against yours, the lewd, squelching sounds of sex, loud enough to echo alongside your wet kisses and intense breathing. “Fuck—Mark—you—oh shit—right there.”
“Yeah?” He pants, unrestrained.
It’s pathetic. Beyond pitiful how your incoherent but praiseful words turn him into a whiny mess. He feels dizzy, and he’s pretty sure he’s drooling on your lips as his jaw goes slack, tongue slipping out a tiny bit, attempting to taste you in the hazy mess. His eyes roll back in raw bliss as your nails scratch down his back, arms trembling on either side of your head.
He feels helpless.
Your legs lock around his hips, only allowing him to pull a tiny fraction of his cock out before thrusting back in; quick short pumps seeming to do the trick for you both.
“Shit. You gonna cum?” He asks in awe. Your suffocating walls and trembling breaths a clear sign, but he still asks, needing to hear you as he looks down, taking in your flushed body. Your bouncing tits, a sight for sore eyes.
“Mhm.” You nod quickly, eyebrows tensing in a cute frown before your face nestles in his shoulder, your hot breath hitting his damp skin as he starts scattering a dewy mess of kisses up and down your neck. “Oh my god, I'm-”
“I know, I know.” He gasps as he puts extra effort in keeping up the same rhythm as your cunt squeezes him, his impending orgasm clouding his brain.
You go completely quiet for a few moments, before becoming a trembling mess beneath him and he knows you’ve reached your peak. He relentlessly pushes past the tight grip your walls have around him, desperate to keep your pleasure going as he starts fucking you harder through it, the cry you let out against his shoulder, a reward to his efforts.
“Shit—I’m close.” He feels lightheaded, breathing laboured as he tries to hold on for a little longer.
“You have to pull out.” You utter in panic, a thread of sensibility still holding onto one of you at least.
“Yeah, I will.” He rasps, hand grabbing onto your thigh, fingers digging. “If you fucking let me.”
“Shit, sorry.” You mumble in realisation.
You quickly unwrap your legs from his waist, the tremble in them still noticeable as he sits up a little, delivering three more stuttering pumps before dragging his sensitive cock out with a grunt, his release immediately spilling all over your pussy, a spurt landing on your inner thigh, a few on your tummy, while some of it drips on the comforter. He pumps himself empty, until he’s got nothing more to give.
You hold him close when he collapses on top of you with a tired huff, not even caring about the mess between your bodies.
It’s quiet for a few moments. Just muffled music and heavy breathing. Just your hands combing through his damp hair. Just his cheek squished up against your chest. Just his fingers tracing random patterns on your ribcage.
It’s only when his index accidentally brushes against your sensitive nipple that you whine, breaking the silence and causing him to breathe out a small laugh.
“My bad.”
“You’re good.” You pet his head gently. “Dude.”
He snorts at your mocking tone. A little surprised at how not awkward this feels.
“My guy.” He says casually, still a little out of breath, but joining the silly joking session regardless, and your chest vibrates under him in a giggle that makes him feel giddy.
“You got a really peachy ass you know.” Your unexpected comment makes him raise his head to look at you in question.
“Thanks, I guess?” His eyebrows furrow in a funny expression as his hand sneaks beneath your weight, playfully squeezing your asscheek, forcing a cute screech out of you. “I prefer yours.”
“Ah, of course. An ass man.” You state with a playful roll of your eyes. He likes it.
“Hmm, I dunno. I like your boobs just as much.” He drops his gaze to your chest in a very unsubtle manner. Intentional. An action which, of course, earns him whack in the head. “Yo, that hurt!”
“Stop being a guy.”
“I am a guy!”
“And for that, you’re suffering.” Your tone is sweet and so is your smile, but there’s an edge hidden.
“I’m actually having a pretty good time right now.” He retorts, making sure to add some smugness in his voice, though, it’s become abundantly clear that you’re not one to back down. Your free hand sneaks down his back, nails harshly digging into the muscle of his ass, making him yelp in pain. “Ow! Watch it with the claws.”
“I’m actually having a pretty good time right now.” You imitate his tone, mocking him.
“What kind of twisted way of flirting is this?” He hides his face between your boobs, nuzzling against the soft skin of your sternum as he allows his arms to circle around you, the gentle thump of your heart easing his nerves.
“Who says I’m flirting?”
Mark is aware of how oblivious he can be when it comes to girls, but he also knows a thing or two. And it’s the way your fingers scratch the back of his scalp soothingly that betrays you. Maybe even the goosebumps on your chest, just under the spot he kissed a few seconds ago. Or maybe it’s your legs tightening around him, holding him right where he wants to be. Could be the slight twitch of your hips under him as he moves to get more comfortable. Can it be the whimper you accidentally let slip when his lips start kissing across your chest?
“My bad, my bad.” He murmurs as he presses a wet smooch just millimetres off your clearly hardened nipple. “I must be losing the plot.” He continues, sarcasm intentional, and so is the light flick of his tongue against the erect bud. “You’re not flirting.” His words sound mindless, but he’s definitely aware of what he’s doing to you. And he’s loving your cute little squirms as his release from earlier smears between your lower halves. “You’re just being a brat, as per.”
“Don’t remember you being this annoying.” You complain breathlessly, back arching as you chase his tongue when he pulls back a little.
“Mm, things change.” He feels himself getting hard again, but he ignores it. He’s got other plans. Teasing you seems to have become his priority and you don’t seem to mind either. “I don’t remember you being this needy.”
“Fuck you.” There’s not an ounce of a malice laced with your tone.
A deep moan escapes your chest the second his lips wrap around your wet nipple, sucking lazily as his tongue licks obscenely. He releases it with a lewd pop before letting the tip of his wet muscle flick, forcing louder sounds out of you.
He hopes the remaining people in Chenle’s living room can hear you, discretion the last thing on his mind.
He lifts his body a little, creating space for his hand to slip between your legs. The wet mess even worse now, but perfect nonetheless, and he doesn’t hover this time. Two of his digits find your clit in no time, circling the same way his tongue circles your abused nipple. Slow. Gentle.
He can tell you’re still sensitive, overstimulated. But he wants more. Needs more. So he takes it. And you give it.
It’s sloppy, the mixture of both your essences making everything slippery and he feels the subtle pulse of your bud under the pads of his fingers as he rubs with a little more precision; your laboured breaths nothing but an encouragement. His mouth hangs open against your chest, lips dragging aimlessly, your skin covered in his spit and he can’t help but moan lowly when you tug at his hair a little too hard.
He really needs to feel you unravel again. The desire might as well be engraved in him by now.
“Can I go down on you?” He looks up, gauging your reaction and you’re nothing but hooded eyes and flushed cheeks.
“If you feel like tasting your own cum, go for it.” You respond casually, a lazy smirk forming on your lips.
“I’m an introvert, Y/N, not a fucking prude.” He mumbles carelessly as he descends kisses down your body, no hesitation behind his actions when he reaches parts painted in his release. He just licks it all up, like he’s done it a million times. And Mark realises he actually never has. Sure, he’s kissed girls right after they’ve given him head, but eating his own cum off someone’s skin is something he’s never explored before.
He greedily makes out with your pussy the second he settles between your thighs, tongue gliding gently up and down your slit, dipping a little when it reaches your entrance, your taste combined with his own, intoxicating him. The more he teases, the whinier you get.
You get so restless he has no choice but to wrap his arms around your thighs to hold you down — one hand splaying just above your pubic bone to ground you, the other just settling for your thigh — and when his fingers pull the hood of your clip up, just a tiny bit, revealing the cute nub, he sucks. Hard. Then he flicks. Mercilessly. And he keeps interchanging between the two, letting your sounds guide him. Hard sucks and vigorous flicks just where you ache the most. He doesn’t need to do much more.
Within a few minutes—maybe two, maybe three—he feels the quaking of your legs, hears the intensifying cries, relishes in the hard tugs on his hair and when you’re cumming on his tongue, just like he wanted you to, he’s moaning with you, helping you ride the high for as long as possible.
“Fuck, s—stop.” You beg helplessly when it gets too much and he delivers one last kiss on your swollen bud before climbing up your body again.
Your tongue is in his mouth, tangling with his before he can process what’s just happened, arms wrapping securely around his neck, as though he would escape otherwise. You flagrantly lick in his mouth, tasting everything like you need it. And maybe you do. He doubts you need it as much as he does though.
You don’t seem to have a care in the world that his chin is smearing your combines fluids on yours. It’s dirty. Filthier than anything he’s ever experienced. And he feels corrupt. You simply have corrupted him. Ruined him without even trying, like it’s some daily routine of yours. And he’s gobbling it all up like a much needed fix.
He needs air. Needs to breathe. But all he seems to be able to do is kiss you again and again and again, until you release him.
“Do you think we’ll have to wash the bed covers?” You ask with a sincere look of curiosity, albeit out of breath.
It takes a second for the random question to register due to his hazy state, but when it does, Mark can’t help but let out a weak laugh.
“I think we might have to buy new ones.”
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
It takes you a second to realise why you feel so warm when you wake up. At first, you assume it’s the sun slipping through the curtains and hitting the skin of your back where the covers have fallen off.
But then you shift slightly. Your eyes flutter open, looking for the real source of heat.
Mark.
He’s on his side, facing you, his face tucked gently against your bare chest like he drifted there without thinking. His arm is draped lazily over your waist, heavy and warm, hand resting at the small of your back. Not gripping. Just there. Like holding you is something he does without effort — even unconscious. Like even in a deep slumber he’s decided you’re something to hold onto.
You stay still. Still taking it all in.
He looks unfair like this.
Sleep has softened every sharp edge he usually carries. His brows, normally expressive and quick to knit together, are smooth now. His lashes rest against his cheeks — longer than they have any right to be — casting faint shadows in the morning light. His lips are slightly parted, relaxed, the corners tilted just enough to make him look younger. Gentler.
Pretty.
The word slips into your mind before you can stop it.
There’s something almost innocent about him like this. No teasing smirk. No knowing glances. Just warm skin and steady breathing and a boy who trusted you enough to fall asleep pressed this close.
The faint stubble along his chin brushes against you when he shifts, softer than it looks. You trace it lightly with your fingertips, watching the way his mouth moves in response — a tiny unconscious reaction. His nose nudges closer, breath fanning against your skin. It tickles a little.
Your heart speeds up.
You hate that it does. Why would it?
You hate that it isn’t just physical. That it isn’t just leftover heat from last night. It’s something else. Something quieter and far more dangerous. It’s odd. The way your chest feels tight just looking at him. The way you’re memorising the exact shape of his lips, the slope of his nose, the soft curve of his cheek in the sunlight.
He’s too handsome first thing in the morning. Too warm. Too real.
Your pulse thuds harder than you’d like, and you swallow, trying to steady yourself.
This isn’t supposed to feel like this. It’s too simple for it to feel like this. You’ve slept with the guy twice over the course of two years for crying out loud.
His fingers flex faintly on your skin, tightening for a brief second before settling again. Even asleep, he pulls you a fraction closer, like he’s afraid you might slip away. Just like you did last time.
Your heart betrays you again.
You brush his hair back gently, letting your fingers linger in the softness. He stirs at the touch, lashes fluttering before slowly lifting. His gaze is unfocused at first, hazy with sleep, and then it lands on you.
He freezes.
You watch awareness dawn in real time — the slight widening of his eyes, the way his throat moves when he swallows. A faint flush creeps up his neck.
“Hi,” he murmurs, voice rough and small in the quiet room.
It’s so shy, it almost doesn’t sound like the guy from last night.
You don’t answer. You just keep looking at him, taking in the softness that hasn’t fully faded yet.
His lips press together briefly before he adds, quieter, almost unsure, “Still here?”
The way he says it makes something in you constrict.
Before you can respond, he ducks his face back into your chest, hiding like he regrets letting you see that vulnerable edge. His arm slides a little tighter around your waist, pulling you in closer. You feel the warmth of his cheek against you — and then, softly, almost absentmindedly, he presses a small kiss on the skin between your breasts before settling there again, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
You should say something. Make a lighthearted comment. A joke. Something. Anything.
You don’t.
Instead, you tilt his face up gently, fingers brushing along his jaw. He looks startled for a split second, brows lifting slightly.
And then you do something that you shouldn’t feel that comfortable doing. You kiss him.
It’s soft. Slow. Not teasing. Just your lips pressing against his like you couldn’t not do it.
He makes the tiniest sound of surprise against your mouth — a quiet, breathy little noise that’s so embarrassingly cute. His hand flexes at your waist like he forgot what to do with it.
But he kisses you back.
Careful at first. Shy. Still waking up into it. Then a little surer, lips moving softly against yours, warm and unhurried.
When you pull back just enough to breathe, he’s looking at you differently. Still flushed. Still flustered.
Still holding you close.
“You can’t just do that,” he mumbles, even though his thumb is tracing absent patterns against your waist now.
And your heart, traitor that it is, keeps beating too fast.
“Do what?” you whisper back, close enough that your lips almost brush his when you speak.
He hesitates. You feel it — the flicker of nerves beneath the warmth. His gaze drops to your mouth like he’s debating something with himself.
It doesn’t take him too long to decide, it seems. His lips are on yours in not time again.
Not shy this time. Not startled.
Just slow. Sensual.
His hand tightens slightly at your waist, fingertips pressing into your skin as if to anchor himself. It all starts soft — just the gentle press of his lips to yours — but there’s intention behind it now. A quiet hunger that wasn’t there seconds ago.
You feel the shift immediately. The undeniable throbbing between your legs. Your breathing matching his quickened one.
His mouth moves more deliberately, head tilting to deepen the kiss, nose brushing lightly against your cheek as his tongue grazes your bottom lip, asking for permission you instantly give. Mouth parting for him without a thought, too excited to taste him. The faint rasp of his stubble grazes your skin when he adjusts closer, and you can’t help the small inhale that slips out of you.
He hears it, of course. You feel the corner of his mouth lift against yours before he kisses you deeper.
Your fingers slide into his hair again, nails barely grazing his scalp, and he exhales into your mouth — warm, shaky, almost reverent. His arm around your waist pulls you flush against him, his thigh pressing between yours, the warmth of him suddenly impossible to ignore when his skin drags against your sensitive and already wet cunt.
The sound of it — soft breaths, fabric shifting, the quiet press of skin on skin — fills the room and it all feels… different compared to last night. Unrushed.
Like he’s not trying to impress you. Not trying to prove anything.
Just kissing you because he wants to.
Your heart pounds harder than you like. Harder than it makes sense. You barely know him outside of dim lights and late-night tension and shared heat — and yet the way he’s touching you now, feels careful. Thoughtful. Like he’s memorising the shape of you through his hands.
No one’s kissed you like this.
Not like they could do it for hours. Not like it could become routine.
His hand slides slightly higher along your spine, slow enough to make you aware of every inch it travels. Your body reacts before your brain can catch up, leaning into him, hips shifting unconsciously closer, grinding, looking for release against the muscle of his thigh.
He makes that soft sound again — the small, surprised hum you’re starting to recognise — but this time it’s deeper. Less startled. More affected.
The kiss grows wetter, heavier, until breathing becomes necessary. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, lips parted, eyes darker now as they take in your lips. You can only imagine what they look like, judging from his swollen, glistening ones.
The innocence of it all has disappeared as his hand travels down your back, settling when it’s reached your ass, kneading softly. Once. Twice. And then just resting there. Intentional and comfortable.
Dangerously comfortable.
You realise, with a slow creeping clarity, how easy this would be. To wake up like this again.
To fall back into this again. Into him.
─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──
Next time you sleep with Mark, it’s in your bed. The one after that, is in his bed. And the one after that, in your bed again. And the one after that is memorable because he makes you cum in any position you can think of. The time after that, he’s rougher than he’s ever been; manhandling you like it’s his job, fucking you so hard, pain mixing with pleasure, your tears blinding you, your cries deafening you, until his hand is around your throat, shutting you up.
It gets to a point where the nights (and mornings) you’ve spent together, blur into one. It all easily becomes a habit. Calling him, texting him, meeting with him between classes. It’s all normal. Like it would be with a close friend.
For you at least. You’re not really sure how he feels, but the fact that he’s never complained, comforts you in a way. Other times, it makes you doubt everything. You try not to dwell on those thoughts.
Random hang-out sessions, that turn into lazy movie nights, become a frequent occurrence between the two of you.
Much like right now.
“What the hell?” You exclaim all aggravated, sitting up a little from your lying position on the sofa. Your feet shift on Mark’s lap and you can’t see his hand under the blanket, but you feel its warmth around your calf, through the cotton of your sock. It’s comforting. “Is that it?”
Mark chuckles lightly.
“I mean, yeah.” He shrugs casually as he pops a piece of pop corn in his mouth. “Thoughts?”
“I’m fucking sad.”
“Aww, dude, why?” He sits up a little too, getting more comfortable so he can look at you better as the credits keep rolling. “They said they’ll meet again.”
“Yeah, but we don’t actually see that.” You complain loudly, making him chuckle again. At least one of you is entertained.
“That’s the whole point.” He squeezes your calf once. “It all ends before sunrise for them, hence the title, but they get to experience so much in just one night that they don’t really need to know if they’ll actually meet again.”
“Is that why it’s your favourite movie? You’re into the whole soppy, enigmatic love trope?” You tease with a smirk, loving his flustered reactions a little too much.
The cute roll of his eyes makes you smile wider, without realising.
“I guess we’re not watching the second one then.” He says with a playful pout and you can’t help the excited yelp you let out.
“There’s a second one?”
His eyes widen a little at your excitement, tiny amused smile taking place on his face. “And a third one. But I’ve never seen it.”
“Well, we have to watch them.” You catch yourself moving closer. His hand slips higher on your leg, just below your knee, the warmth seeping through your comfy sweatpants.
“Oh, we have to?” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, making your heart skip a beat at his subtle way of teasing you.
“Yes, we.” You say stubbornly, refusing to let him have his way. “You’re the one who suggested this ridiculously sad shit.”
He stares at you for a moment, in thought as he spreads his legs a little, letting your own dangle between them, bent knees hooked over his thigh. You instinctively move even closer, one of your arms stretching behind his shoulders, against the back of the sofa, as your free hand starts playing with one of his hoodie strings.
The familiar scent of his after shave mixed with a hint of detergent engulfs you. It’s distinct. The kind that could traumatise you if things ever went south with him.
“Did you not like it then?” His voice comes out quite this time.
You purposely avoid eye contact, though, you can feel his gaze on you, and you have to actively force yourself to not focus on the way his hand caresses your inner thigh. It’s nothing but innocent, but that does something to you. It feels domestic. Absentminded.
“No, I did.” Your eyes are still on your finger twirling the string on his chest. “Just hoped for a happier ending is all.”
“Hmm, you can’t always have a happy ending, though.” He says skeptically and for some reason the words sit heavy in your chest.
You ignore the unpleasant feeling and force your eyes onto his. “When did you become so wise?”
“Tsk, I’ve always been wise.” His cute nose scrunches a tiny bit as his eyes narrow in a challenge.
You try your best to mirror his expression as you tickle his chin with your index finger. “Sure, you have.”
Your teasing gets interrupted quickly. A giggle erupts from you as he playfully tries to bite your finger off. His pearly whites making an appearance; a silly imitation of a cat making you act all giddy.
He’s too cute for his own good.
And so you give into the urge to drop a very sweet kiss on his cheek. Your hand cradles his jaw as he tries to pretend an escape.
When you pull away, you have to bite your lip to hide your smile, your cheeks hurting.
He looks away, attempting to hide his own smile from you, tongue poking the inside of the cheek you just smooched a little too loudly.
“You’re still so shy with me.” You observe quietly and his frown makes you let out another giggle.
“No, I’m not.” He pouts adorably.
“It’s okay.” You lean closer as he sulks. Another kiss on his cheek, this time a tiny bit closer to the corner of his lips. “I like it.”
“Do you really think I’m shy with you?” He searches for a reaction in your eyes as he wraps a hand around your wrist, urging you to wrap your arms around his neck.
You give in too easily. It’s too difficult not to with his face so close to yours.
“Not always.” You admit, as you start playing with the hair at his nape. “You’re shy, like, maybe fifty percent of the time.”
“Fifty?!” He shrieks with an offended tone. “Dude, that’s still high.”
“And I still like it.” You scold, arms tightening slightly around him as his hands rest on your thighs, still draped across his lap.
“You just like being a pain in my ass.” He states with a knowing smirk, and you can’t even deny it.
“See? You’re not shy now.” You deflect, enjoying the back and forth dynamic you have going on with him.
“Stop flirting.” He scolds, hand squeezing your thigh softly.
“Mm, no.” You cradle the back of his neck gently with one hand as your other arm drapes casually around his shoulders.
“No?”
“No.”
“Just like that?”
You simply nod. “Just like that.”
He nods back with an approving pout. “Fair.”
The second he leans in for a kiss, a dull pain in your lower abdomen reminds you of your state and you panic.
“You can’t stay tonight.” You blurt out. The surprise evident on his face as he pulls back.
“Umm, okay?” His confusion pulls at the strings in your heart. “Is something wrong? Like, did I—“
“No.” You interrupt him, before he can make things even more awkward. Arm still around him. “I’m just on my period. So, we can’t…you know.”
Realisation downs on him. Eyebrows raising slightly, lips parting. “Oh.” He nods once. “Right.”
“Mmhm.” You give him an awkward, tight smile.
You could have cancelled tonight. Should have. But you hadn’t seen him in almost a week due to a stupid essay you had to focus on. And you hate to admit it even to yourself, but you missed him. A little more than you a friend misses a friend. But that’s another story.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asks a little too casually, but still concerned.
The way he sneaks an arm around your middle, is too smooth. It’s with effort that you manage to maintain your composure as he pulls you closer into his side, his hand resting on your lower back. Gentle and reassuring.
Your heart does something weird at the intimate gesture. “Yeah, I’m good. It’s the third day, so, it’s not too bad.”
He nods understandingly. “Okay, well…I don’t know if I’m being too slow, but why exactly can’t I stay?”
The question definitely catches you off guard, but you manage to stay grounded. “I mean, you can. You’re welcome to. We’re just not having sex.”
“Yeah, fuck that, I’m off.” He moves to playfully shrug you off, but laughs at the way you childishly whine, refusing to move, stubbornly clinging onto him. He settles back with a huff and you bashfully hide your face in his shoulder. “Y/N, I obviously don’t care. I’ll stay if you want me to.”
His voice is too soft. Too sweet.
You exhale loudly, feigning annoyance. “Fine. Stay then.”
“Ugh. Fine, I will.” You feel the delicate nudge of his nose against your forehead and, inevitably, you look up at him, still tucked safely in his side with your legs comfortably resting on top of his spread ones. “So, like, is kissing out of the question too?”
You snort at the silly question. “No. Kissing’s allowed.”
You’ve realised over time that you have a soft spot for his cheeky side. It’s rare that Mark Lee drops his serious stance, but you’ve managed to break through a few times now and each one of those has felt like a special reward.
His lips find yours for the first time tonight. The hand cradling your jaw shouldn’t feel that good on your skin and the arm around your waist shouldn’t feel as safe as it does. But you savour everything, matching his slow pace.
The kiss becomes less innocent with each drag of his lips against yours, but you can’t bring your self to pull away. Blame the raging hormones, blame the way he’s holding you so close, blame the universe.
You need him to keep kissing you.
The whiny sound you unintentionally let out, betrays said need, but Mark doesn’t seem phased at all. If anything, he deepens the kiss. More intent behind his touches.
“Come here.” He mumbles against your lips as he tries to manoeuvre you, and you quickly oblige, throwing a leg over him, straddling his thighs without a second thought.
He doesn’t seem to approve of your hovering as he shamelessly pushes you down by the hips, encouraging you to properly sit on him. And you do.
He lets out a delicious sound, which you hungrily swallow as your crotch meets his. Hard length familiarly nestling between your thighs, nudging against your needy clit, and you’re glad you opted for a tampon instead of a pad earlier.
“Are you comfortable?” He asks, pulling away slightly, watching your face for any sign of discomfort.
“Yeah.” You nod as you allow your hands to rest on either side of his neck.
“Is there anywhere I’m not allowed to touch?”
You smile at the cryptic question. He’s clearly testing the waters, while trying to be respectful of any boundaries. You can see right through him.
“My boobs are a little sore still, so be gentle.”
He nods. “Anything else?”
Your breath hitches as his fingers sneakily slip under the waistband of your sweatpants, eyes silently asking for permission.
You give him a chaste kiss. “You can’t finger me, if that’s what you mean.”
“Not exactly what I meant, no.” He murmurs as his hands completely slip inside your bottoms, cupping your ass over your underwear, deliberately urging you to drag your hips against his, fingers slightly digging into the flesh of your bum.
He devours your lips in another kiss. Heated, but lazy. Slower than ever.
Your tongues gliding languidly makes you unintentionally grind a little harder, allowing your sensitive clit to drag against his clothed cock and you feel your underwear slipping between your folds messily. He’s got you all wet and needy when he really shouldn’t.
“Fuck, I really want you naked.” He whispers in your mouth, hands travelling up your back, taking the hem of your baggy t-shirt with them.
There’s nothing else to do other than give him what he wants. So you reluctantly break the kiss, letting him remove your top before you rush to do the same for him.
Your sports bra is gone in no time, both your top and his hoodie are somewhere on the living room floor and the second your tits are free, he’s got both his arms tightly wrapped around your middle, biceps flexing deliciously. Your nipples feel extra sensitive as they rub on his skin; breasts squished against his warm chest, the sensation comforting and arousing at the same time, you can’t help the sigh you let out against his lips.
“Don’t really know where we’re going with this.” You speak all muffled as he eagerly tries to lick into your mouth, lips a little uncoordinated but you love it.
You’re more than aware of the double meaning your words carry, and the hesitation in his eyes when he pulls away, tells you he is too. You both seem to ignore the complicated side of the statement.
“I can still make you feel good, no?” His fingers splay in between your shoulder blades as his eyes inspect your face, lingering on your spit-kissed lips for a little too long.
He doesn’t wait for an answer. He pulls you by the back of your neck, his mouth finding yours in another wet kiss, lips parted wide as tastes you with a quiet hum, and you feel more wetness seeping out of you, drenching your panties.
A buck of your hips forces a moan out of both of you as your hands bury in his hair, gripping tight, searching for an anchor. You lean your head back with a soft exhale when he starts leaving wet kisses along your jaw, down to your neck. He licks, sucks, bites your flushed skin, tongue swirling on each mark he leaves behind, turning you on more than ever.
This is so fucking inconvenient.
He takes you by surprise when he licks a stripe from between your tits to your collarbones, painting your skin with his saliva.
“Ah, shit.” You tighten your hold on his hair and he lets out a little grunt that vibrates against your sternum, his quick breaths hitting your damp skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your nipples harden uncomfortably, asking for attention and he must notice as his hand cups one of your breasts, gently massaging the underside.
His lips find the raised peak, kissing around it, teasing you, forcing needy sounds out of you, and when he softly sucks it in his mouth, tongue swirling, you can’t help but grind down harder with a loud whine.
“Careful.” You whisper weakly when his tongue flicks a little too hard, making you jolt.
“Sorry.” He apologises with a sweet kiss between the space of your tits, and for a few moments, he gives all his attention to your slightly swollen mounds. Licking and sucking, carefully massaging them in his palms until you pull a little too hard at his hair, singling that it’s too much for you.
You force him to lean back as you trap him between your body and the back of the sofa. The sound he makes when you wrap a hand around his throat, exhilarates you, and you give into another make out session as you let your fingers lightly press on his pulse points, loving the effect you have on him.
You’re completely lost in his kisses and the way his firm chest feels on yours. It’s all too much and not enough at the same time and you really just don’t know what to do with yourself. So you just try to relax on top of him, arms loosely wrapping around his neck as you relish in the wet smacking sounds of your lips.
It’s his hand that sneaks between your crotches that urges you to pull away, but he holds you there, his other hand on the back of your head.
“Can I try something?” He mutters as his fingers slowly start undoing the knot at the front of your waistband. “Stop me if it’s weird.”
Fuck Mark lee and his persuasiveness. “Okay.”
You probably shouldn’t. It’s too intimate. Too vulnerable. And you normally wouldn’t let anyone else, but when Mark slips his hand past the front of your waistband, you let him.
He’s careful. No rushed movements as he holds you close, lips brushing yours as he gauges your reaction and your mouth parts against his when you feel the warmth of his palm, engulfing the seat of your underwear. He rubs lightly over the drenched fabric until his fingers find your clit, pressing a little harder, evoking a half desperate half surprised sound out of you.
You self-consciously wonder if he felt the thin string of your tampon when his fingers brushed past your entrance, but whether he did or not, he doesn’t really let on.
He starts rubbing you in slow tiny circles, the gentle friction making you breathe harder, fingers shaking in his messy strands.
“Can I touch you properly or is that a bit too far?” He must sense your contemplation as his fingers come to a brief halt. “I’ll stay here.” His fingers press on your clit, signalling what he means. “Won’t go anywhere else.”
You pull back a smidge, the need to look at his face getting the better of you. His pleading eyes, full of adoration, overwhelm you and you cowardly hide your face in his neck, arms wrapping tighter around his shoulders.
“What if I bleed all over your hand?” You whine dramatically. The thought of that actually happening, too embarrassing.
He breathes out an amused laugh. “I’ll live.”
“Yeah, well, I won’t.” You joke halfheartedly, but inhale sharply when he presses against the swollen bud again.
“At least you’ll die happy.” He giggles at the warning bite you leave on his shoulder, playfully shrugging you away, but his arm around your middle holds you close. “You wanna cum. I wanna help. So let me.”
“Fuck sake.” You sigh in defeat, forehead dropping against his shoulder. “If you touch anywhere other than—“
“I won’t. Promise.” He seals it with an intimate kiss on your shoulder, making you shiver.
“Okay.”
He slips his hand inside the front of your cotton panties, quickly finding your pulsing bud and you instantly melt against him with a relieved whimper, the skin on skin contact already feeling a million times better. His two fingers send you reeling, making you moan in his neck, your jaw slackening when he speeds up a little, rubbing harder, more precise circles on the bundle of nerves. His hold around you tightens when you start slightly shaking on his lap and you feel dizzy when he starts flicking from side to side, bringing you closer and closer to a dangerous high.
It’s addictive. The way he touches you, holds you, breathes on you like he’s the one being pleasured. It’s all out of this world. Too good. Too mind-numbing.
“Mmph—f-fuck—right there.” You beg, all out of breath and flustered. His fingers keep brushing a spot on your clit, too sensitive, the pleasure so intense, you can barely handle it.
“Yeah? Feels good?” His breathy tone adds to the hot sensation between your legs, your toes and fingers tingling as your eyes inevitably roll back.
“So good, Markie.”
He grunts when your nails dig into the flesh of his shoulder. “Fuck, baby. Wanna see you cum.”
“Oh my god.” You whisper with a tremble, mouth ajar against his shoulder, your saliva smearing on his skin as you struggle to breathe, to keep a little bit of your sanity intact. “Mark. Ffffuck.”
Your release crashes into you with force. A muffled shriek erupts from your throat, resonating in the silence of the living room. You sound broken as he keeps rubbing fast and hard. Until your whole body shakes in ecstasy. Until the overstimulation is too much to endure.
Your walls are spasming so hard you’re worried they might accidentally squeeze the tampon out, and you have to grab his wrist in panic, forcing him to stop his torturous ministrations on your abused clit.
You slump forward. Body completely spent. Weight dropping on him in surrender as your brain floats somewhere unknown.
The gentle scratch of his blunt nails against your scalp, helps bring you somewhat back to the surface.
“Fuck, that felt—” You pant, struggling to form anything coherent. Your throat feels dry when you swallow.
“Intense?” He finishes your incomplete thought for you.
He has a tendency of doing that. Understanding you better than you can understand yourself sometimes. Unveiling thoughts and feelings you didn’t know you were capable of carrying.
You don’t like it. The grip he has on you — you feel it most when he's not even touching you. When he's not even with you.
And it’s too intimate. More than you can handle.
You often feel scrutinised under his gaze. Especially in raw, unfiltered moments like this. It never feels transactional. Whatever you have with Mark. It’s never just about fleeting pleasure. There’s always something underlying but undeniable at the same time.
Something undoubtedly there, but difficult to define in your head.
Something you wonder if his complex mind has been able to translate into words you always fail to find.
pairing: fwb! mark lee x tutor! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 29k+
synopsis -> sex helps him focus. focus he needs for your tutoring sessions. it was a win-win for mark lee when you proposed to add a stress-relief session to the schedule. the favorite fuckboy and the girl who doesn’t believe in love equals the ultimate friends with benefits set-up. it’s the perfect dream team! but uh oh…it seems like mark has been shot by cupid’s arrow. will mark survive all of your attempts at pushing him away?
warnings -> grab the tissues! (can be used for multiple reasons) pet name unlocked: kitten, so much dialogue, they’re both yappers, mentions of: periods, reader has avoidant-attachment issues, a little toxic, a lot broken, mark is so down bad it hurts me, angst, +18, crude language, fuckboys, a party, alcohol, starts off with a lot of smut! edging!!!, mark whines and whimpers and cries, oral (m+f), he loves eating pussy, nipple-play, fingering, blow-job, sex on the desk, rough sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, reader is on the pill, sensory play, overstimulation, a fake orgasm, mentions of: period sex, masturbation (m).
an -> third installment of the loverboy series is yours! i did so much research for this holy shit (shoutout to quizlet, friends with benefits, prom-pact and ariana grandes: eternal sunshine album). i don’t know anything about advanced music theory or history please i got it all off quizlet. if it’s wrong, do not come for me! important things to note -> you do not have to read stupid cupid or flying kiss to understand this story but 1) mark is the favorite fuckboy. he’s very upfront. tells you what he wants from the beginning, never leaving you doubting his actions. 2) jeno and bunny’s story is simultaneously happening 3) jaemin and his gf, angel, are happily together. have fun reading! with love, c.
“i don’t feel it,” your voice bites through the night air, cold and detached.
“i don’t love you.” you add with absolutely no remorse, just the tired truth of someone who stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.
mark can’t help but think back to how exactly he got here — watching you walk away with the heart you shattered into a million pieces, drowning in the silence, wondering how he ever thought he could be the one to change your mind.
ᓚᘏᗢ one month ago. april 2. wednesday.
mark bursts into the study room like he was being chased, slightly out of breath and as usual, thirty minutes late to your tutoring sessions. you didn’t even bother looking up from your notes.
“you’re late. again.” you said flatly, highlighting a passage in the textbook as if his presence didn’t affect your mood at all. it did. the wasted time makes your irritation grow sharper. it was only three days of the week and he still couldn't show up on time.
“sorry, was busy,” he said, running a hand through his mess of dark hair, lipstick stain on his neck, smelling like cheap perfume and sex.
you arched your eyebrow, “that’s the third time, mark.”
he offers an apologetic smile, dropping into the chair across from you, pulling out his notebook, “i know, i know, she just…took longer to finish.”
you slammed your highlighter down, “just because i’m your friend doesn’t mean you can completely act unprofessional,” you roll your eyes, “this is my time you’re wasting too.”
he looked at you, your signature eyeliner and maroon lips making you look sharper, meaner, ready to pounce at any minute.
a mixture of guilt and fear flickers briefly across his features before he sighed and slumped forward, “y/n, i’m sorry. really. it just helps with the stress you know? clears my head so i can focus.”
“mark,” you leaned in “is your sex life really more important than your three failing classes?,” you remind him of the reason why you were here in the first place. he doesn’t respond and the silence was answer enough. you look at him, brain already calculating ways to solve this problem, until you got to one conclusion — it’s a ridiculous idea but it would be the most effective.
“fine,” you said, tapping your pen against the table, “we can have sex,” you propose.
mark whipped his head towards you like you’ve just grown two heads, “what?!”
you shrugged like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, “i can’t have you missing another session, you need to pass these classes,” you reason. “i have a 100% success rate mark, i’m not letting you ruin that because you need to get your dick wet…so show up earlier, we add a stress relief session then start tutoring right away,” you explain like you’ve been thinking about this the whole week.
mark chuckles, an eyebrow raised. sounds like a pretty great plan to him — too great…actually.
“what’s the catch?,” he asks, eyeing you suspiciously, elbow on the table as he leaned towards you.
“no catch, i just have one rule” you smirk, pointing a finger up. he nods, urging you to go on.
“you can’t sleep with anyone else,” you say simply.
this makes him laugh.
“i don’t go exclusive, y/n.”
“please,” you scoff, “i don’t want to date you mark,” you say clearly, “i just don’t want to catch a disease.”
you were very aware of mark’s title — everyone’s favorite fuckboy, leader of the dream fraternity, co-captain of the university’s basketball team and can play guitar. everyone wants a piece of him. and almost everyone has gotten a piece of him.
“i’m clean!,” he argued, looking offended.
“yeah? for how long?,” you shot back, a teasing smirk on your face.
he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair, “fine…then i get to add a rule too.”
“that’s fair, what’s your rule?,” you ask.
“you can’t fall in love with me.” a smirk on his lips.
this makes you laugh.
“well, isn’t your lucky day, mark lee,” you say with a sly smile, “i don’t believe in love.”
he studied you for a moment, confusion flickering behind his eyes, a subtle memory from freshman year playing in his mind until the smile on his face faded into something quieter, “i’m serious, y/n,” he says with conviction.
you raise a brow, “and i’m serious too mark…the day i fall in love is the day money starts raining from the sky.”
he watches you then lets out a short laugh, “okay, just wanted to be clear,” he nods, a grin creeping in, “so…friends with benefits then?”
“exactly,” you hold your hand, “deal?”
mark laughs before accepting it, sealing the deal with a firm handshake, “deal.”
without warning, you yank him towards you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that steals his breath — it’s quick, sharp, deliberate. before he can respond, before he can even think about deepening it, you’ve already pulled away, a smirk on your lips as you start packing your things in your bag.
“this room’s only reserved for an hour and you just wasted it,” you say over your shoulder.
“my apartment. friday. 6PM. if you’re late we’re going straight to studying.” you warn him before leaving him there feeling like he just won the lottery.
it was the perfect situation for him — he’ll pass his classes and get to have sex without having to do all the extra work of chatting up a girl and trying to impress them just to get in their pants. it hasn’t even started yet and he already felt like a winner.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 4. friday.
mark knocks on your door at exactly 6:00 pm on friday evening. his backpack hung on his shoulder.
“huh…so you can arrive on time,” you tease, leaning on your apartment’s door.
“what can i say? i’m stressed and i need to be relieved,” he shrugs, a childish grin on his lips.
“alright, come on,” you grab his arm, dragging him past your living room and straight to your room.
“so…how do we do this?,” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps inside, standing in your room awkwardly, backpack still on his shoulder. he looks around, noticing your bare walls and how everything seemed to be neat and organized.
“what? sex? aren’t you supposed to be the expert?,” you quip, raising an eyebrow in amusement, snapping his attention back to you.
he rolls his eyes, “well usually, i flirt with the girl first before i get in their pants,” he reasons.
“nu-uh, we don’t have time for that,” you cut in, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your red lacy bra and the tiny black pajama shorts that hung low on your waist.
mark’s eyes widen slightly, glint with amusement, unabashedly checking you out, “dang dude, you’re fucking sexy.”
“is that how you talk to every girl you’re about to have sex with?,” you chuckle.
“that’s how i talk to my friends,” he smirks, earning a snort from you.
“are you gonna take off your clothes or are you just gonna keep gawking?,” you tease, lips curled into a smirk. mark rolls his eyes, finally setting his backpack down by the edge of your bed and removing both his t-shirt and sweats with ease, leaving him in his black boxers, still standing across from you — it was your turn to check him out. he’s lean, more toned than you expected, abs on display, the outline of his cock prominent through his boxers.
“nice,” you mutter, making him raise a brow in amusement. in one smooth motion, you slide down your shorts and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side somewhere as you stood proud and tall, in your red matching panties, not shying away from his gaze.
your confidence (tits) draws him in, stepping forward, closing the distance. both his hands come up immediately, cupping your breasts, thumbs grazing smoothly over your nipples with open fascination. you hitch your breath, the sensation of his fingertips making your pussy clench around nothing.
mark almost can’t believe what’s happening right now, “this is silly,” he breathes out, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, his hands still massaging your boobs.
“my boobs?,” you ask flatly, a little offended.
“no, your boobs are great, dude,” he says quickly, “i meant this situation is silly, i’ve never had sex with a friend before,” he says, still rolling your nipples in between his fingertips.
“you can always back out, we can skip this and go straight to tutoring,” you say, giving him a chance to change his mind.
he lets out a dry chuckle, eyes flicking down between you, “y/n, you’re kidding right? my dick is hard as shit and i’m playing with your boobs…we’re not going straight to fucking tutoring.”
you grin, biting back a laugh, “i’m very aware that you’re playing with my boobs and if you don’t plan on fucking the shit out of me in the next minute, i’m putting my clothes back on,” you warn him.
he doesn’t wait for a second warning. his boxers hit the floor and you follow suit, slipping your underwear to the ground. grabbing a condom out of his wallet, he rolls it on smoothly. then, with no hesitation, he makes his way back to you, lifting you off the ground. mark was a lot stronger than you thought he was, picking you up like you were as light as a feather. your back hits your mattress with a bounce as he hovers over you, eyes dark with intent, that devilish, childish grin sitting on his lips.
then his mouth crashes onto yours in an instant, messy and hungry. the kind of kiss that’s all teeth and heat and no hesitation. you tug on his hair, eliciting a groan from him, urging him closer as your tongue meets, battling for dominance. his hands are everywhere, gripping your thighs, hips, waist like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin.
“hurry up mark, you’re on the clock,” you pant, fire curling low in your belly.
“you said fuck the shit out of you right?,” he growls against your throat, voice low, barely restrained.
“if you can,” you tease, challenging him to pick up the pace.
he was tired of the mocking. mark aligns himself against your entrance and with no warning, no gentleness, he slams into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs — the stretch was delicious, filled with pain from the lack of foreplay, groans bouncing off of each other’s mouths, “fuuck y/n, you feel insane” he grunts as he thrusts with a rhythm that makes the bed squeak.
you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him in even deeper, harder, pussy sucking him perfectly as you calculatingly start clenching impossibly tight for him, “h-holy shit,” he groans, sweat dripping from his temple, “-quit doing that,” mark warns but doesn’t relent his unforgiving pace, chasing the edge like he’s starving for it.
all the while, you just wanted him to get there – the faster he finishes, the faster you can start tutoring. your hands wander throughout his body, leaving goosebumps all throughout his skin until they land on his nipples, you rub him until he was whining and groaning against your mouth, “fuck-mm close,” he manages to say in between his heavy pants, “me too,” you lie.
the pleasure in your stomach was building but you weren’t at all close to the finish line.
“yeah?,” he hisses, thrusts getting messier and messier as he fights back the urge to cum, waiting for you. his lips latch on to your neck, licking and kissing.
you decide to end his torment, “i’m cumming,” you announce, exaggeratedly, forcing yourself to clench around him as much as you can, watching him topple over. he grunts beside your ear, his release finally taking over as he spills into the condom.
“oooh, yeahh,” you moan, faking your orgasm as you push him off of you and into the bed beside you.
mark barely has a moment to catch his breath, chest still heaving from his orgasm, when he turns sharply toward you, narrowing his eyes, “wait…did you just fake it?,” he asks, feeling betrayed.
“uhh, no,” you mutter out, focusing on the ceiling, pretending to catch your breath.
mark shuffles beside you, clearly unconvinced, “that’s not how girls cum, y/n”
“that’s how i cum!,” you argue and mark shakes his head. he wasn’t stupid. he’s been with enough ladies to know that that was a fake orgasm.
he shakes his head, frowning, “no way, i feel like i just used you,” he says, the words leave a sour taste in his mouth — mark never leaves a lady unsatisfied, which is the reason why he kept on showing up late to the past three tutoring sessions. it doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’s not leaving the bed until they are done…until you are done. it’s a point of pride. call it ego or decency but either way, he doesn’t half-ass pleasure. how else do you think he got the title of the favorite?
“it’s fine mark, we need to start our session,” you say, sitting up. but before you could get further, mark tugs you back into the pillows.
your eyes widen in slight shock, “what are you doing?”
“pretty sure friends with benefits means were both benefiting,” he smirks, “i’m not moving on until you cum,” eyes glittering with playful determination, earning an eye roll from you.
“we don’t have time for this,” you scoff, trying to push him away. but he was a lot stronger than you, grabbing your hands and pinning you down the mattress.
“give me ten minutes,” he says, voice low. you look at him amused, “you think you can make me cum in ten minutes?,” you mock, an eyebrow going up.
“just shut up and reap the benefit,” he bites back as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, leaving no room for arguments.
“no hickeys, mark,” you warn him. he ignores you but doesn’t leave a mark anyways, lips trailing lower and lower, stopping for a moment to suck on your nipples, your back arching towards him. he takes a mental note of the way your body immediately responds every time he gets near your breasts.
that familiar pleasure starts to pool in your core again, unmistakable and creeping in fast. and when your hands go lax in his grip, he knew he won this time. he looks up at you with an amused glint in his eyes, hands slowly letting go of your wrists as he let them roam all over your body, mouth still worshipping your breasts, watching your every reaction, taking note of your satisfied little hums, the softs gasps and the way your lips part unconsciously.
he travels lower and lower, tongue leaving a warm, wet path behind. then, he pauses “hmm, what’s this?,” his fingers ghost over the tiny artwork placed on the right side of your hip, just above your underwear line.
“a cat.”
“cute,” he says with a grin, kissing over your tattoo, “why a cat?”
“i don’t know, i was drunk,” you were growing impatient, the frustration was getting to you. you’re pretty sure he’s already used up half of his ten minutes. now’s not the time for small talk.
“hurry up, mark,” you say, taking matters into your own hands and pushing his head lower – exactly where you needed him.
mark chuckles, the warmth of his breath making your thighs twitch, “feisty,” he teases, “the cat is fitting.” you’re ready to fire back with a smart remark but the words get caught in your throat when he slowly licks a strip between your folds.
“mmm, you taste so fucking sweet,” he praises, kitten-licking in between your folds before finally dragging his tongue up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud. a moan slips from your lips, all thoughts of tutoring and snarky comebacks dissolve, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue lapping against you.
you haven’t been eaten out in so long, your last and only boyfriend absolutely hated going down on you and the other one night stands you had never seemed like they knew what they were doing – always leaving you to finish what they started.
mark settles comfortably between your thighs, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as he continues sucking, licking, spitting, completely consumed with the kind of hunger that makes it feel like he’s the one being pleasured. your hips instinctively move, grinding against his face as you tried to reach the high that was slowly but surely building inside you, “fuckk mark, f-feels so good,” you whine against his touch.
you feel him smirk against your clit before he slides two fingers in, following the curve of your pussy, learning the way your body molds. his mouth doesn’t stop, still locked onto your sensitive bud, sucking with relentless precision. and as soon as he found that spot, you can't help but shut your eyes in pleasure.
“oh goddd, mark,” you cry out, your body arching off the bed, head flat against your sheets as your fingers made it’s way to his hair, lightly tugging, making sure he stays exactly where he is. he lifts your legs over his shoulders, adjusting his angle, pushing his fingers in deeper as his mouth continues its worship. he eats you out like a man starved, the noises of your juices squelching filling up the room and it felt so, so good.
you can feel the heat rising through your body. mixtures of ragged pants and high-pitched moans tumbling out of your lips helplessly as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside you. then his free hand slides up to your torso, pinching your nipple just enough to tip you over the edge, completely at his mercy, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, im cumming, im cumming,” you gasp, repeating it like a prayer, fingers digging into the sheets until you’re knuckles were white, trying to ground yourself on something. your orgasm completely washes over you, body trembling as you were left gasping for air, jaw slacked, eyes rolled back, toes curled.
mark doesn’t let up, drawing out every aftershock until you’re twitching, overstimulated. you push his head away and only then does he pull back – grinning, breathless, face decorated with your slick.
“now that’s how girl’s cum,” he says proudly, licking his fingers clean, looking smug as hell.
you roll your eyes, trying to snap out of the haze, “you said ten minutes, that was definitely longer.”
“whatever kitten, we still have twenty minutes left of the tutoring session,” he smirks.
“kitten?,” you repeat, confused.
“it’s fitting right?,” he shrugs. you shake your head, reaching for your clothes with a playful scoff, ignoring the way your legs still feel like jelly. twenty minutes was not enough time but you grabbed the flashcards you had meticulously prepared earlier anyway.
“fine…time for music theory,” you say as mark groans dramatically beside you.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 6. sunday.
mark: wyd? come to the dream fraternity party
kitten: can’t. busy.
mark: but i need to relieve stress…
kitten: mark, it’s only been two days.
mark: yeah two days too long 😩
kitten: we’re literally seeing each other tomorrow
mark: why are you blue balling me? 🤕💔
kitten: im not. you can still use your hand! 🤗
mark: it doesn’t feel as good ☹️ not warm enough ☹️
kitten: go heat up a sock and figure it out 🫶
mark: are you sure that rule of yours is final? a really hot girl just walked in and my dick is pointing towards her direction 👀🍆🥵
kitten: go ahead 🙂↕️
mark: bro, really???
kitten: yep! but don’t expect to get your dick anywhere near me tomorrow 🙂↕️🙂↕️
mark: nvm 😑
kitten: see you tomorrow 😇
mark begrudgingly walks up the stairs, ignoring all the girls who were glancing his way. he can’t risk it, the deal had just started and it was too fun to spoil — settling into his sheets, he pumped himself up and down until he was spilling into his hand.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 7. monday.
when mark walked into your apartment, he was ready to pounce, eyes already scanning you like you were his favorite dessert. but he stopped short, confusion flickering across his face – you were wearing layers upon layers, “uhmm, you do know it’s spring right?,” he says.
“i know,” you say, a playful smile on your lips as you lead him towards your bedroom.
“so what’s with all the extra layers?,” he trails behind you, suspicious.
“we’re gonna play a game,” you say simply.
“noo, y/n, the deal was i get here, we have mind blowing sex, then we study,” he groans.
“yeah, well that didn’t work out last time,” you point out, remembering the fact that it took the two of you almost the entire session just to finish, “so i decided, we’re gonna mix the two together,” you finish, a sly smile on your lips.
“what’s the game?,” he narrows his eyes, though he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in him.
“for every question you get right, i take off a piece of clothing,” you say, explaining the rules, “and for every question you get wrong, you remove one of yours.”
he perks up immediately, spark dancing in his eyes. mark loves a good game. loves it even more when he wins — he sits at the edge of your bed, already looking far too cocky for someone who’s about to get mentally grilled. you sat on your computer chair across from him, flashcards in hand and fully clothed.
“alright, i’ll start off easy,” you begin, flipping through the flashcards you barely used during the last session, “what’s a major key with 6 flats?”
he laughs, “please, a G flat.”
“correct,” you nod, peeling off the scarf around your neck and dropping it to the floor. mark smirks. if all of your questions were this easy, you were going to be naked in no time.
“next, what do you do to write an aeolian scale?.”
“you use the natural minor of the note given,” he says with ease, relaxed and confident.
“lucky guess,” you mutter, slowly removing your cardigan.
“i’m not that clueless,” he explains, finding it all amusing. his eyes dropping to the now visible thin tank top you were sporting.
“then why are you failing three of your classes?,” you shot back.
“because the assignments are dumb and i don’t have time to do them, i already know how to apply them in real life,” he shrugs, “why do i need to know all these terms?”
you study him for a second, “mark, you can’t expect to skip steps and magically pass all of your classes,” you say.
“yeah, i’m learning that the hard way,” he pauses, his shoulders tense, the stress catching up to him once again, “now ask the next one so i can suck on your tits,” he smirks.
you roll your eyes, asking the next question anyway, “in scale degrees, major scales, what are the augmented triads?”
“trick question,” he smirks, “there are none.”
“correct,” you smile at him, removing one sock.
“you’re taking off one sock?? that barely counts!,” he groans like a spoiled child.
you shrug innocently, “still clothing.”
he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “okay fine, give me the next one.”
you raise your eyebrow, “what’s a hemiola?”
mark frowns, racking his brain for an answer, “uhhh…”
you grin, tapping your foot.
“something about a repeating melodic phrase representing a theme?,” he asks, head turned like a curious puppy.
“wrong. thats a leitmotif,” you correct him, “shirt’s off, mark lee.” he groans but obeys, tugging it over his head. you do your best not to stare too hard at his abs but he catches you.
“define consonance and give an example,” you grin wickedly.
“seriously?” he asks. “this is cruel.”
“take off your pants if you can’t answer,” you tease him. he mutters under his breath about how unfair this was before his pants come sliding off, leaving him in his boxers.
“what is a long note divided into shorter, usually melodic, values?,” you continue, holding up the next card.
“oh! i know that one, it’s a diminution,” he says proudly. you remove your other sock.
he narrows his eyes, “you’re cheating.”
“nope. you’re just losing,” you tease.
you flash the next card, “alright, what is existing or occurring within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?”
“...i hate you,” he mutters as he gives up on pretending to answer, accepting defeat and sliding off his boxers. his semi hard cock on display.
you laugh, fully dressed except for the missing cardigan and socks, “awee, look at you…all naked and we’re barely halfway.”
mark glares, though there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “this is the most academically humiliating foreplay i’ve ever experienced.”
you laugh, “where is the tenor clef sign located?,”you give him an easy one, knowing that he needs to have motivation to keep going.
“one space above the alto clef,” he says. you hum, pleased, stripping off your leggings, showing off the white lacy underwear you wore just for him. his eyes drop instantly to the undeniable wet spot of your arousal and you part your legs slightly, inviting him, teasing.
“you sick little, kitten,” he swallows, “this is actually turning you on?,” he asks, mildly confused and little turned on.
“what can i say? i love humiliating men,” you smirk, earning an eye roll from him, “what’s a cluster?”
“a chord consisting of at least three adjacent notes of a scale,” he answers, voice low, tense. more determined now to get the answers correct.
“good boy” you purr, lifting the tank top over your head, that little praise makes his mind go absolutely crazy, his cock twitching. your sheer white bra does nothing to hide your hardened nipples and mark fights back the urge to pull you into his lap and fuck you senseless, his boner getting harder within each passing second, restraint visibly cracking.
“define neoclassicism,” you ask, voice steady, brows raised.
mark blinks, then answers slowly, “uhh a general revival or interest in classical cultures and usage of themes and styles from ancient greece and rome?”
you look up at him, impressed, “can’t believe all it takes is wanting to see my tits to get you this focused,” you grin, unclasping your bra and tossing it right into his lap. he catches it midair, eyes instantly zeroing in on your now bare-chest. you roll your chair closer to him, spreading your legs and placing them on either side of him, effectively caging him in. mark’s breath hitches – it was getting real hot in here and he was fully naked.
he reaches for your breast but you slap his hand away, “touch me and the session ends. we’re done.” you warn — having control turns you on more than you care to admit. the way his eyes darken but obeys anyway. the tension practically pulsing between your bodies. he looked so small in between your legs and it makes you want to break him even more.
“hurry up and give me the next one,” he mutters, jaw tight, trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. it was torture. having a sexy half-naked girl right in front of him and not being able to do anything about it. your breasts were on full display, sitting prettily on your chest, your panties were practically dripping and he wanted nothing more but to taste you. wanted nothing more than to hear you moaning under him once again — you were a cruel vision of pleasure he’s not allowed to touch.
“a phrygian is which degree for the key?”
“uhh fifth?,” he guesses.
“wrong,” you say, lips curling in amusement. he groans, cock twitching.
“a mixolydian is which degree for the key?”
“third!,” he tries this time.
“wrong again,” you say, nearly laughing now. his patience was starting to blur. he’s one wrong answer away from losing his mind and you’re relishing every second of it – enjoying every grunt that passes his lips. his cock twitching so close to your core, making you clench.
“you got them mixed up,” you correct him before asking the next question, “a lydian is which degree for the key?”
he groans. he was barely holding on. he shuts his eyes, pausing, taking a minute to think about it, “...fourth?”
you lean in, voice silk and smoke, “are you asking me or are you telling me, mark lee?”
“i-i’m telling you,” he says, voice shaking with the amount of restraint he was trying to hold on to. you were so close now, heat practically radiating off of you. you smirk up at him, tossing the flashcards to the side and smashing your lips on his. he responds immediately. lips chasing yours, urgently and needy.
“correct,” you whisper in between the kiss. his hands immediately latch under your thighs as he pulls you into his lap. you feel the hot, hard press of his cock against your soaked underwear.
“take these damn panties off,” you murmur against his ear. he grunts as his fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling down the last barrier between you.
“fuuckk, you’re dripping for me,” he praises, dragging his fingers through your slick, rubbing up and down your folds before sliding two deep inside of you, making you moan against his lips. this time, his fingers immediately find that spot that makes your toes curl.
“r-right there, mark…d-don’t stop,” you whine, the tension between you rising as your hips start riding his digits, matching the rhythm of his fingers curling inside you. each thrust sends sparks through your belly, pressure building fast. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast but precise circles that have your head falling back, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you continue to bounce on his fingers. his lips close around your nipples, tongue flicking, sucking furiously, drawing out the high you can’t hold back — your orgasm came crashing down embarrasingly fast, leaving you breathless.
“can’t believe humiliating me got you this fucking soaked,” he smirks, breath hot against your skin, “you’re such a dirty girl, kitten,” he teases, licking his fingers clean. before you can recover, he flips you over with practiced ease, ass up and back arched just the way he likes it. you hear the familiar crinkle of foil as he tears open the condom wrapper, then feel the thick heat of him pressing against your entrance before he slides in, deep, the stretch making your teeth clench — the wait was worth it. you were so wet for him…so warm he almost busted as soon as he entered.
“you’re cumming on my cock this time,” he growls, determined, as he adjusts his member, searching for the angle that makes you scream. as soon as he found it, his fingers dig into your hips, thrusting into you from behind, sharp and relentless, your face pressing down on the sheets as the slap of skin echoes throughout the room.
this new angle hits you perfectly, “f-feels so good,” you manage to gasp, voice shaking with every snap of his hips as your hands continue to grip the sheets for stability, moans growing louder with each movement.
he growls in response as he leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, “this what you wanted, kitten?, to tease me until i snapped?” you can barely form words, nodding helplessly, body jolting forward with the force of each thrust. his hand snakes around to press against your lower belly, holding you still as he drives deeper, harder, making sure that you can’t fake anything this time.
“cum,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he starts sucking on your shoulder, “cum all over my cock.”
“fuck mark–i’m so close!,” you cry out, voice cracking under the pleasure, building fast and unforgiving. your knees feel weak beneath you but his grip keeps you grounded, keeps you exactly where he wants you. sweat sticks to both of your bodies now, the heat almost unbearable. then, without warning, he pulls you up, your spine arching as he pressed you against his chest. one arm wraps around you tightly, holding you in place while the other dips between your thighs, fingers finding your swollen clit, circling in perfect sync with the relentless thrust of his hips.
“c’mon, kitten” he breathes against your neck, voice low and rough, “give me another one,” he grunts. you cry out, whimpering, overwhelmed — your release finally taking over as breathless whines of his name slip from your lips.
you came all over his cock, body jerking in his arms, head falling back against his shoulder. mark holds you through it, grinding deep inside, chasing his own release with a sharp muffled groan against your skin. for a moment the room is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the faint creak of the mattress, savoring your shared orgasms until he finally pulls out, flopping backwards onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, arm draped over his eyes. you let yourself melt into the pillows, limbs heavy and boneless, chest still rising and falling in the aftermath. he lies beside you, chest glistening with sweat, rising with each breath.
“well,” mark pants, breaking the silence, “if we keep studying like this, i’m definitely passing all of my classes with an A+”
you laugh breathlessly, turning your head to the sound of his voice, “A+ huh? that’s bold of you.”
“please,” he says, cracking one eye open to look at you, “you saw me, I was focused, determined…inspirational,” he exaggerates, a playful smile on his lips.
“you got half of the questions wrong,” you point out, “we’re far away from an A+,” you tease.
he smirks, “fine by me, that just means more tutoring sessions,” he throws you a wink and you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.
you kick him out of your apartment as soon you both calm down, mark leaving completely satisfied. this is, by far, the greatest deal he has ever had to make.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 9. wednesday.
you sat cross-legged on the bed, flashcards in hand, watching mark settle into your desk chair with boyish excitement written all over his face. he leaned back, arms draped lazily over the armrests. you weren’t wearing a ridiculous amount of layers today, which meant he was going to be able to fuck you faster than last time.
“so,” you begin, flipping through the stack, “today’s game is a little different.”
his brows lift in curiosity, an eager smile playing at his lips. of course it was. he should’ve known you always came with surprises. always keeping him on his toes.
“for every question you get right,” you say, pausing just for dramatic effect, “i suck your dick.”
mark’s eyes widen a little too fast, the thought of your mouth around his cock so appealing. this was going to be too easy, “you’re joking?,” he breaks into a smug grin.
“i’m not,” you smirk, making your way over to him and sinking to your knees in front of him. you look up, expression all wide eyes and faux innocence. he knows better by now. “but don’t get cocky,” you warn, smirking as you settle between his legs, “i’m not moving if the answer is wrong.”
that wipes the grin off his face, just a little, “i’m not getting any of them wrong.” he came prepared this time, actually paying attention in class and reviewing his notes in order to be able to be rewarded by you.
you chuckle as you tug his sweats down, revealing his already semi hard cock, “no underwear?,” you asked, an amused smile on your face.
“why bother?,” he shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips. with no warning, your fingers wrap around his member, stroking slowly, giving him a preview of what’s to come — mark immediately groans at your touch, head tipping back slightly at the sensation of your warm hands, cock already twitching in your hand. you looked so tiny around him and he’s already struggling to keep his composure. then your tongue glides along the side of his shaft, slow and deliberate, before swirling around the tip, collecting his leaking precum. the taste lingers on your tongue as you look up at him through your eyelashes. he was too relaxed, too comfortable, eyes focused on you with a smug on his lips. without breaking eye contact, you take the tip of his now fully hard cock into your mouth, sucking gently. it earns a low grunt from deep in his chest, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, but just when he leans into the sensation, you pull away completely, lips slipping off him with a soft pop.
frustration flashes across his face as you casually reach over and grab the stack of flashcards beside you and he’s reminded that this was the game. perhaps, this is not as easy as he thought it was going to be. he sighs in defeat and all you do is wave the flashcard lazily in your hand, eyes glinting with mischief. mark sits up straighter, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing in front of you, twitching with every passing second.
“alright,” you begin, voice sweet, innocent and absolutely lethal, “what is existing within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?,” you repeat the question he got wrong last time.
mark squints, trying to focus, despite the way your fingers are slowly tracing circles on his inner thigh, not quite touching him. “diegetic or source music,” he answers. you raise an eyebrow, impressed, a hum of approval slipping past your lips.
“correct.” before he can smirk, you lean forward again, lips wrapping around him once more, this time a little deeper. his head falls back instantly, a low grown escaping. you suck him in slow and warm, letting the reward sink in and just as he starts to melt, you pull away again with a soft gasp of air, reaching for the next card like nothing happened.
he looks down at you, flustered, chest rising faster, “kitten, you’re insane.”
you flash him a dangerous smile, “define mickey-mousing.”
he doesn’t answer right away, jaw tight, trying to stay focused while his cock stands there, glistening and so so hard. “a film technique that syncs the accompanying music with the actions on screen,” he says, breathing hard.
“look at you, actually paying attention,” you tease before leaning in again, placing a kiss to his tip, taking him once again, just a little deeper, a little wetter. his whole body shudders and he mutters something that sounds like a prayer. you were only three flashcards in. he doesn’t know how much of this edging he could take. he hopes, god, he hopes he knew all the answers. when you let go again, you smile sweetly, tapping the next card against his thigh, making him clench slightly.
“what are the notes of a D major triad?” — “D, F, A,” he manages to say.
“hmm, wrong, those are the notes of D minor triad,” you correct him, leaving his cock neglected as you sit back on your heels, folding your hands in your lap. “no mouth for wrong answers,” you tease as he groans, head falling back dramatically.
“you’re actually evil, kitten.”
you only smile, reaching for another card. he glares at you like a man on the verge of a breakdown, “hurry up, i'm going to die.”
you ignore him, “list all major intervals,” you ask, resting your elbow on his knee like this is the most casual game of flashcards in the world. like his dick wasn’t right in front of your tits — the image has his cock twitching extra hard. he had to get this one correct. he racks his brain for the answers, recalling what he learned in class.
“it’s major second, major third, major sixth and major seventh,” he answers shakily.
your hand curls around the base of his cock again, making him suck in a sharp breath “correct,” you take him in all over again. he exhales hard, threading his fingers into your hair, grounding himself. you’re slower this time, deliberate and precise, letting the praise build in your mouth just like the tension between you. he did give you four correct answers. when his hand tighten a little too hard, you pull off again.
“fucckk, i hate this,” he whines shakily.
“scale the degrees in order,” you smirk.
“tonic, supertonic, mediant, subdominant, dominant, submediant, leading tone,” he answers quickly, determined, voice breathless with need.
“wow…all correct,” you say, a light shock in your tone and a proud smile tugging at your lips. he doesn’t even get a second to bask in it before your mouth is on him again, wet, warm, perfect. he moans, hips twitching up slightly and you let him, just for a second. the reward is intoxicating. and you have half the mind to continue sucking him until he was writhing under your touch. but you pull away once more, wiping your lips with a devilish smile.
“alright, next one,” you say cheerily, like this is all just a friendly trivia night.
mark looks like he might cry.
“why are you doing this to me?,” he gasps.
“don’t act like you don’t like it,” you say, “besides it’s working, you’ve only missed one question so far,” you say proudly.
“yeah, because i’ll literally die if i miss another,” he whines — this went on for a good thirty minutes more. mark only getting a couple wrong, until you were down to your last flashcards and he was teetering at the edge. ready to bust every single time you put your mouth on him but not quite getting there.
his cock is so red, throbbing, leaking to the point it hurts. a couple drops messily on his thigh, a couple on his stomach but never enough to reach his full release. there were tears streaking down his cheeks, his lips quivering. he was absolutely gutted. absolutely vulnerable.
“what’s the natural minor scale pattern?” — “minor diminished major minor minor major major,” he answers, getting the words out as quickly as possible.
this time, instead of wrapping your mouth around him, you reached for the condom you had ready, sitting pretty on your desk, anticipating this moment. his breath hitches as you tear the wrapper open with your teeth, wrapping it on his hard cock, mark practically growling under your touch. you smile sweetly, removing your shorts and crawling into his lap, knees pressing into either side of his hips. the heat of your soaked underwear brushing against his cock makes him hiss through his teeth.
he can’t take it anymore.
“what are the chromatic intervals?” — “minor, diminished and augmented intervals,” he whispers, barely hanging on.
“good boy,” you praise him as he breathes heavily under you. pushing your panties to the side, you lined him against your entrance. his breath catches, fingers finding your hips as you start to sink down onto him, inch by inch, teasing slowness, warm and tight until he’s fully buried inside you. his cock stretched you just right. a strangled moan escapes both of your lips.
“holy shit,” a low, wrecked sound escapes his throat, as he grips your hips tightly, trying his best not to unload right there, “thank you,” he trembles, breathing shakily.
he was obviously not going to last long. and it was so extremely hot. you discard the flashcards as you rolled your hips once, slow and deep, each movement designed to drive him out of his mind. mark’s hands are everywhere now, on your back, thighs, gripping your ass as he helps guide your motion, pushing up into you with desperate need. everytime you drop your hips, he lets out another choked curse, eyes glued to the way your body moves against his. you feel his cock twitch inside you, a telltale sign that he was incredibly close to coming undone.
“you gonna cum for me?,” you whisper against his ear, teeth gently grazing the lobe. he nods frantically, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. he’s never felt this kind of pleasure before, the kind that makes him lose absolutely all sense of logic, just nodding like he was some sort of yes-man.
“-fuucck kitten, yes, d-don’t stop, p-pleasee,” his whines encourage you, dragging your hips in a deep circle that has you both gasping. it doesn’t take long. the tension you’ve built the entire session finally snaps as he groans your name, hands clutching you, hips buckling up hard, coming with a gasp buried into your neck.
you don’t stop bouncing. continuing to fuck yourself into his cock, rubbing your own clit.
“k-kitten, it hurts,” he whines. you block all of his pleas of stops, all of his whimpers, the way he’s fully crying out, fingers gripping his own hair, until your thighs are shaking, orgasm taking over, a loud moan slipping from your lips as you cling to him, both of you gasping, bodies slick and trembling.
you absolutely wrecked him — mark’s vision blacks out for a minute too long. his arms loosely wrapped around you as he tried to catch his breath. hair sticking to his skin. that was the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had and he’s had a lot.
and just like the past two tutoring sessions, mark was out the door as soon as he got dressed and it doesn’t get any better than this.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 11. friday.
mark enters the university’s basketball court, searching for your frame. you’d texted him to meet you here, a lot earlier than the usual tutoring session. the court was empty, echoing slightly and he spots you instantly, sitting on the bleachers with a book in your hand — he wonders what today’s game is, a little worried about the public location you chose.
“hey dude,” he redirects your attention to him, “are we about to indulge in exhibitionism?,” he teases, an eyebrow going up.
you laugh, closing your book. “no mark, we can’t have sex today,” offering him a sheepish smile.
he looks at you like you just delivered the worst news he could ever hear, “is everything okay?,” he asks, taking a seat next to you.
you nod, “everything’s fine, i’m just on my period,” you say casually, turning toward him.
his eyes widen slightly in acknowledgment before a grin breaks out of his face, “you know…,” he leans in, whispering, like you weren’t the only two people in this room right now, “a period only stops a sentence,” he teases.
you roll your eyes, lightly shoving his face away, “nu-uh mark lee, no way,” you say crashing all his dreams of period sex down the drain, a light smile on your lips.
“why not?, i heard somewhere, it helps with all the cramps and stuff,” he continued, still trying to convince you.
“i’m on my second day, everything’s too messy,” you say flatly, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “—anyways that’s not why we’re here,” you rise from the bleachers, grabbing one of the basketballs on the side and tossing it to him.
mark catches it easily, “we’re gonna play basketball?”, he asks, a brow raising.
“yup, i read somewhere that physical activity helps with memory retention, so we’re gonna play a game while i tutor you,” you explain, standing a little below the hoop.
“you can play basketball?,” he asks, clearly amused, as he starts dribbling the ball in front of you.
“i’m no co-captain of the basketball team or anything but i’ve got a few moves,” you reply, stealing the ball from him with a cheeky grin, “and…if you win, you get to choose what we do during the next session.”
his brow raises, a smirk on his face, mind already racing of things he wanted to do to you. he could have you in his lap as he fingers you until you cry for him. he could have you bent over your desk as he fucks into you. he could spend the whole day eating you out. the possibilities were endless.
“alright,” he says, already feeling competitive, “game on.”
mark dribbles lazily as he awaits your question. you narrow your eyes, “the classical era dates are?”
mark answers quickly, “1750-1820,” like it was a piece of cake. he really is getting better at paying attention in class.
“correct. take the shot.” he does and it bounces off the rim, a curse slipping from his lips. you catch the ball with a grin.
“the romantic era dates are?,” you ask, already dribbling towards the other side. mark gets the answers correct again as you ducked under his arm, tossing the ball into the net.
“okay, showoff,” he mutters playfully, jogging to grab the ball. the game goes on for a solid fifteen minutes. the two of you jogging back and forth. you call out questions, dates, composers, and mark fires back with surprisingly accurate answers. it was a good game between friends, a good session between a tutor and her student.
mark was winning now with several points ahead of you. he hasn’t missed a single shot since the first one, while you were just getting lucky every time you made the ball in your net. he can’t help but find it adorable though – the way your face would light up every time you made a shot. the way you would do a mini celebration, a happy little dance. it was so different from your usual serious, focused, studious side. this side of you is loose, giddy, warm and he’s having way more fun than he expected to.
“alright,” you say breathless but still trying to keep up with him, “dates of the modern–”
you don’t get to finish your question. a sudden wave of pain crashes through your abdomen, so sharp it knocks the air right out of you. you double over mid-step, the ball slipping from your hands and bouncing off to the side, a yelp coming slipping from your lips.
“w-what’s wrong?!,” mark practically bolts to your side as you inhale, trying to catch your breath.
“sorry, just a really bad cramp,” you say, shutting your eyes as the pain traveled all throughout your body. he watches you for a second or two, eyes scanning your figure, registering the pain before he closes the distance, crouching in front of you. he has no idea what to do. he’s never dealt with a girl on her period before. his hands hover for a moment before resting gently at your sides, fingertips against your lower abdomen in slow circles.
you flinch, surprised at his touch, “what are you doing?”
“don’t massages help?,” he asks softly, big brown eyes filled with worry. his touch is careful, like he’s afraid of making it worse. you don’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t really help, not with cramps this intense. still, the gesture alone tugs something warm in your chest. so for a moment you just let yourself sink into it, leaning against his chest for support like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your head rests there, tentative at first, then heavier. it’s a moment of vulnerability you haven’t shown anyone for a long time – not since your ex made you feel like needing comfort was a flaw, like softness was a burden.
mark stills when you rest against him, almost like he’s holding his breath. then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you, careful and steady, not sure if any of this is okay. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you, warm and solid, his chin brushing the top of your head as you breathe through the pain. no teasing, no jokes, no snide remarks – just quiet presence.
eventually, you gently pull back, and he feels himself straighten as if waking from a trance. “i think i have to cut the tutoring session short today,” you say apologetically.
“kitten, don’t even worry about that,” he says immediately. the nickname — usually tossed around with a grin, lands softer now. you don’t think too much about it, brushing off the feeling as soon as it came.
slowly, you got up from the floor, pushing through the lingering pain, “i’m gonna go home and die now,” you say with a weak laugh. he chuckles quietly, standing with you.
“i’ll walk you home,” he offers and you turn it down immediately.
“it’s okay, mark,” you make your way back to the bleachers, gathering your things. “i’m a big girl,” you add, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “i can take care of myself,” you shoot him a smile as he follows you out the court.
“you sure?,” he asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s still not convinced.
“yeah,” you say gently, “thank you, though. i'll see you on monday,” you lean up and press a light kiss to his cheek, quick, grateful. then you turn to leave, not waiting for his response.
behind you, he stays still on the court, watching your figure walk away like he’s not quite ready to let the moment end. the kiss on the cheek lingering on his skin.
once he got back to the dream house, mark still can’t help but wonder if you were okay. he’d showered, changed, even tried zoning out to whatever song was playing through his speakers but his thoughts kept circling back to you. the image of you doubling over in pain, your face twisting as you tried to play it off, like it was nothing, kept replaying in his head like a song stuck on loop.
and he hated it – hated seeing you hurt. hated the way you pretended it wasn’t a big deal. hated the way you apologized for needing a break and absolutely hated the way you waved him off, like his concern was too much.
he told himself it was normal. this was normal. he is your friend. it’s normal to be worried about your friends. that’s allowed.
when he walked into the living room and found jaemin sprawled across the couch, glued to his phone and jeno halfway through a protein bar, he didn’t stop to think before blurting out, “what do you do when angel and bunny are on their periods?”
the question dropped like a brick. jaemin blinked, his gaze dropping from his phone to mark, “uhh why?,” he asks, a curious grin on his face.
mark shrugs, flopping down onto the couch “nothing, just curious.”
there was a beat of silence, then jaemin replied, “well, angel’s gonna murder me for saying this but she gets needy…wants me glued to her side the whole time with extra cuddles and kisses…heating pads are a must,” jaemin chuckles, “oh and sex helps too,” he says with a wink.
mark huffed a quiet laugh, “what about bunny?,” he turns to jeno.
jeno choked on his water, “uh–what? bunny and i don’t have sex,” he says flustered.
mark eyes him suspiciously, “yeah, i know. that’s not what i meant,” he says slowly, “i mean she’s your best friend and you’ve known her since forever right, you should know what she’s like on her period?,” he asks, a playful grin on his lips.
“oh..right,” jeno mutters, “uhm she’s the complete opposite, she locks herself in her room like she’s going into hibernation mode, she just texts me with a list of snacks she wants and i leave those at her door and leave,” he explains.
mark chuckled, but it faded quickly. his mind was racing with a million thoughts of how he could make you feel better. what were you like? did you want to be left alone? did you want snacks? cuddles?...is cuddling even allowed?
jaemin tilted his head, studying him. “wait…is this about your girl?”
mark blinked, “she’s not my girl.”
jeno gave him a long, skeptical look.
“she’s really not!,” mark repeated, more defensively this time, “we’re just friends and i care about my friends well being, okay? that’s all,” he convinces himself more than he does them. before they could say anything else, mark stood up, headed for the door.
⟢
when your phone buzzed, you squinted at the notification from your cocoon of blankets, blinking away the throb of cramps that hadn’t quite given up yet.
mark: hi friend
mark: i’m outside
mark: just want to make sure you’re okay lol
you hesitated, considering pretending to be asleep but something in you tugged toward the door. that soft, stubborn part that wanted not to feel alone tonight. curse these hormones. you cracked it open to find him there, hoodie half zipped, a plastic grocery bag in hand.
“hi,” he said, a little breathless, “i brought you some things.”
you opened the door wider, letting him in, “i told you i was okay.”
“i know but as your friend i had to make sure,” he practically shoves the bag in your hand as you inspect what’s inside. the bag was filled with different kinds of snacks, chocolates, candies, and three boxes of heat patches.
you took the heat patches out and raised a brow, “three?”
“listen,” he said, flopping lightly on your couch, “jaemin said they were ‘a must’ and i panicked,” he says casually and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept up. it’s been a while since the last time you’ve let anyone do anything for you.
“thank you,” you breathe, the words soft and sincere, stripped of your usual teasing edge. the smile you give him isn’t your usual sly smirk either, it’s quieter, gentler and it makes something in mark’s chest flutter unexpectedly. he looks at you a second too long, heartbeat catching like it’s suddenly forgotten how to work properly.
minutes later, the snacks were spread out on your coffee table, a heating patch working its magic under your hoodie and to all the boy’s i've loved before playing on your t.v. mark sits beside you, a careful few inches of space between your bodies. he didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t try to cheer you up with jokes or distractions. he was just there – steady and warm and quiet.
when the credits roll, he finally speaks, voice low, “you know,” he says, glancing over at you with a soft smile, “for someone who doesn’t believe in love, i wasn’t expecting you to put on a romcom,” he turns his body towards you as you sat end to end on the couch.
you laugh, shifting slightly under the shared blanket, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a tired smile, “please, your favorite movie is spiderman…do you believe he’s real?”
“how do you know spiderman’s my favorite movie?,” he asks, a light smirk on his face.
“sophomore year, film elective class, you were totally geeking, practically bouncing up and down next to me,” you remind him, exaggerating the detail a tiny bit.
mark huffs a laugh and nudges your knee with his, “ok but it’s different…spiderman is a fantasy character.”
“exactly,” you say, your voice softening, “so is love.”
the words aren’t bitter. just…matter-of-fact. like something long accepted and carefully folded away.
mark turns his head toward you, studying your face in the dim glow of the screen. shadows play across your features, softening the hard lines you've spent building — he thinks back to the first time you met during freshman year orientation. you were the first person he’d ever talked to, bouncing up to him in a soft blue sundress and a smile too big for the room. you introduced yourself with sparkles in your eyes, asking him if he believed in soulmates, like that was a completely normal ice breaker. you were glowing then, all wide-eyed and wonder. all heart. spilling stories about your high school boyfriend like love was the most natural thing in the world. he hadn't even told you his name yet, and there you were, already peeling yourself open for him, talks of forever from your pink lips. you were all blush-colored hope and reckless honesty. he remembered thinking you were kind of intense. too trusting. overly romantic. he hadn’t understood the way your whole world seemed to spin on the axis of love.
now, years later, that sparkle has been replaced by a colder fire, a guarded kind of strength he’s grown used to. the kind that keeps everyone at arm’s length. the kind that never let’s anyone close enough to see where it hurts. your smile — once easy and disarming, has taken a brittle edge, still beautiful, but sharpened by something heavy and unspoken. you don't talk about soulmates anymore. you don't talk about love at all, not unless you're tearing it down.
he noticed the change during the last semester of freshman year. people whispered about your breakup, but no one knew the details. just that it ended and something in you shifted. like someone had quietly reached inside and flipped a switch — it became more evident when even the way you dress has changed. your light, gentle dresses were replaced by blacks and deep reds, structured silhouettes that made you look untouchable. strong. sharp. sometimes he wonders if you’re hiding behind those clothes or they just mirror what’s left…he wonders when exactly the world taught you to stop believing in forever.
“what made you say that?,” he asks finally, voice low, careful not to press too hard but needing to understand.
you hesitate, eyes not meeting his just yet. debating whether its safe to give this piece of yourself away. and maybe it was the vulnerability of the night. maybe it was your hormones messing with your brain, like you’ll tell yourself later. but right now, you find yourself answering him.
“it’s just…” you exhale, like the words are caught in your chest, “love doesn’t last. people swear it’s forever and then suddenly, it’s not. one day you’re holding hands and dreaming together, you have a ring on your finger and the next they’re telling you that you’re too much. too needy,” you blink slowly, memories flickering behind your eyes, “that he only loved me because it was easy. and the second it got hard, he left.”
mark stiffens beside you, “you were engaged?,” he asks, surprise threading through his voice.
“shocking, right?,” you force out a dry laugh, bitter around the edges, “i almost fell for the scam.” your voice is steady, each word carefully measured, telling the story without letting it touch you. but your eyes betray you, they've gone distant, unfocused, like you’re watching a memory you wish you could turn off. there’s a smile on your lips but it’s all muscle memory. empty. the kind of smile people put on when they’re used to pretending they're fine.
mark’s jaw tightens. there’s a sharp flare of protectiveness in his chest, something hot and furious aimed at the ghost of a man he’s never met.
you continue, voice barely above a whisper, “so yeah, spider-man, love, same category…fiction.”
the silence that follows is thick, heavy, but mark doesn’t rush to fill it. he sits in it with you, lets it stretch out between the two of you without trying to clean it up. the pain in your voice isn’t loud, but it’s there – woven through your words like thread through fabric. he doesn’t throw some cliche about how the right person will come along. does not insult you with hollow optimism that people usually responded with. he doesn't try to talk you out of your truth or tape over a wound he can't even see the full shape of.
instead he nudges your knee again, gentler this time. a small touch, reassuring.
“i don’t think you’re too much,” he says quietly, the words careful and real, “not even a little.”
you look at him then. you don’t say anything for a while, neither does mark. and he’s not sure if that was something he was even allowed to say. you’ve built so many walls that even kindness feels like trespassing…then, in true fashion, you break the weight with a teasing smile, “who’s your favorite spiderman anyway?,” you ask.
the shift it so perfectly timed, so you, that it makes mark huff a laugh. he knows its your way of giving you both room to breathe again and he's grateful for the shift.
“tobey,” mark says with zero hesitation.
you groan dramatically, hands flying to your face, “no way, everyone who says they’re favorite spiderman is tobey is blinded by nostalgia! his spiderman was a creepy stalker!,” you argue passionately.
you lower your hands just in time to see mark laugh…really laugh. the kind that crinkles his eyes and pulls a genuine sound from his chest and it makes something bloom in yours.
“okay well, who’s yours then?,” he asks playfully. “andrew.”
he scoffs, “nope, his peter parker was great but his spiderman was not ‘spidermanning’ at all!,” he argues back, the made-up word slipping out so confidently it makes your brows lift.
you roll your eyes, a smile on your lips, “i didn’t say i liked him for the spiderman of it all.”
“oh?” he says, eyes gleaming with curiosity, “then what?”
you shrug, slow and teasing, “he’s the prettiest one…and,” you lean in a little closer, mark watching you, “i like looking at pretty things.”
his smile falters for a split second, eyes flicking to your lips.
“do you now?,” he murmured, voice lower now, the space between your faces shrinking by the second.
“mhm,” you mutter and then, without overthinking it, you close the space and kiss him softly, slowly, carefully, like testing the weight of something fragile, unsure if it’s meant to be held at all. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. it’s not like any of the others you’ve shared before – not playful, not messy, not reckless. this one feels like stepping into something unknown.
it doesn’t last long. just a few seconds. just lingers enough to feel real.
when you finally break apart, neither of you speaks right away, just looking in each other’s eyes like you unlocked something dangerous. the stillness lingers, dense and a little too loud.
you're the one to break it, typical you, peeling the weight away with a crooked smile, “i’m still not down for period sex” you tease. he forces himself to laugh, trying to push away the tension that lingered in the air.
“fair enough,” mark says, standing slowly, “you should rest anyway and maybe lay off the tobey slander,” he says.
you laugh softly, leaning your head against the couch cushions as you watch him move around your apartment like he belongs here, “i’m right about him.”
he chuckles, grabbing his phone and keys, “text me if you need anything, seriously. even if it’s just to complain about life,” he says warmly, a small smile visible on his features.
“thanks for tonight, mark,” you say as you get up, stretching your limbs and walking him to your door.
he pauses in the doorway, like he wants to say something else, but instead he just nods, “of course, that’s what friends do.”
and then he leans in again, placing a soft kiss on your temple. his voice is quieter this time, almost tender, “goodnight, kitten.”
you freeze, just for a second, but your response comes automatically, “goodnight, mark”
and with that, he’s gone, the door closing with a soft click. you’re left in the quiet and for the first time in a long time, your apartment doesn’t feel quite so lonely. and still, despite the warmth lingering on your lips, despite the comfort of knowing someone cares, there it is, crawling up your spine and tightening in your chest — fear.
⟢
the walk back to the dream house was quiet. mark’s hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his arms but the cool night air doesn’t do much to ease the heat still lingering in his chest. the night loops in his head like an endless record.
the kiss. he’s never been kissed like that. like it was more than two lips touching, chasing the lust.
that kiss was cautious. it had weight. like it had been carved out of something deeper, something neither of you knew how to name. he was sure of it. it’s the way you looked at him, like you completely trusted him, even for just a second. and maybe it didn’t last. maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and bury it under sarcasm and boundaries. but that look…that look is stuck under his skin now.
he exhales slowly, staring down at the sidewalk. his footsteps echoing in the quiet — you were vulnerable tonight. he knows that. he could feel it in the way you curled in on yourself when the cramps got bad, the cracks between your jokes, that look in your eyes when you talked about your ex. mark noticed it all. that’s the problem. because he doesn’t know what the kiss meant or if it even meant anything at all. maybe it was just comfort. a soft, fleeting thing you reached for in the moment. maybe you’ll wake up and decide it wasn’t real. if that’s the case, he’ll happily play along, laugh it off, bury it.
but his chest still feels tight. he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you said love was a fantasy. and you still kissed him that way. like he mattered. like he was more than just your friend, more than just a body in your bed.
his mind is all over the place. thoughts going back and forth. he swallows hard, jaw tightening. all this thinking wasn’t supposed to happen. you were never supposed to mean anything. for god’s sake, he was the one who said that you couldn’t fall in love with him with. he meant it, too. back then, it felt like the safest thing to say. a wall, not just for you but for him, too.
he doesn’t do love. he’s always been good at lines. at keeping things in neat boxes. clean. uncomplicated. no drama. bodies, not hearts. moments with no meaning, only pleasure. he knows how to care just enough to make it feel good and not enough for it to matter. he’s practiced, efficient, detached.
but something about tonight is cracking through that. and he’s not sure he’s ready to face it.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 14. monday.
when mark entered your apartment, he hadn’t known what to expect. he’d spent the entire weekend mentally pacing, replaying friday night over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every breath between you. and then he’d forced himself to stop. to push any thoughts of you away, telling himself it didn’t mean anything.
but still, when you opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest like it hadn’t gotten the memo.
then you smiled, that same guarded expression, the one that never quite reached your eyes. you looked the same you had last week, composed, cool and out of his reach. he knew right then, that he was right. that moment was fleeting and completely over. erased.
“hey, earth to mark lee, you there?,” you wave your hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daydream.
“yeah, sorry, what was the question?,” he asked, blinking.
“dang dude, you weren’t lying when you said sex helps you focus,” you tease him. today was another no sex session, seeing as you were still on your period.
he chuckles, letting out a groan and burying his face in your pillows, “i can’t belive god gave you periods, this has been the longest week of my life.”
you sat cross-legged on your bed, mark sprawled out beside you, “i told you i can always give you a blowjob.”
his nose scrunches up, peeking at you from the pillow, “no. not after your last blowjob session.”
“it wasn’t that bad,” you feigned innocence.
“kitten,” he deadpanned, lifting his head to glare at you, “you edged me so hard, i cried.”
“and?” you grinned, shameless, “didn’t it make the orgasm like 10x better?”
“at what cost, though?,” he asked dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, “i saw my soul leave my body.”
you laughed, reaching over to poke his side, “but you survived.”
“barely,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, sitting up, facing you now, “you really enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”
“only when you make it so easy,” you said sweetly, “besides, you didn’t complain that much.”
mark let out a long exaggerated sigh, head tilted towards you, “you’re lucky i like you.”
it slipped out carelessly. there was a beat of silence. the two of you holding your breaths at the words he uttered out.
for a second, neither of you moved. mark cursed himself internally. really? now? after a weekend of telling himself it meant nothing…he says that? out of all the things he could’ve said? he really needed to get better at thinking things out before saying them.
the memory of friday night replays in your mind. the slow kiss, the quiet way you looked at each other, the parts of yourself you weren’t supposed to show. you didn’t know why you let it happen but you did. what you do know is that you crossed a line and you had to make things clear.
you shifted slightly, voice coming out softer than before, “listen, mark…about friday night,” you bring up and you feel him freeze slightly.
“i really am grateful for the snacks and having a friend there but…,” you hesitated, searching for the right words, “i was all up in my period feelings and did some stuff i usually wouldn’t...”
you glanced at him, “if that makes sense?”
“no, i get it,” he said quickly, too quickly. “don’t worry i didn’t read too much into it,” he lies.
“cool,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile, “so…we’ll just forget about it?”
he ignores the way you can’t say the word kiss. he ignores the way he can’t bring himself to say that word either. both of you dancing around the “stuff” that happened.
he looked at you for a beat, then cracked a grin, “forget about what?”
you chuckle, shoving his shoulder and reaching out for your notes, resuming the session like nothing happened. like your heart hadn’t skipped a beat. like his hadn’t just cracked a little more under the pressure of pretending.
before the silence could settle over you, you change the topic, “you know, you kinda remind me of peter parker.”
mark raises an eyebrow, amused, “oh yeah? how?”
you lean back, teasing, “you’re always acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders but somehow manage to crack a joke when it counts.”
this surprises him a little bit. he hadn’t realized how much you could actually see through him during these past tutoring sessions. how close you’d been paying attention. he doesn’t dwell on it, afraid of what other feelings it may unlock.
“i didn’t know i was that dramatic,” he finally says, playing it off with a small laugh.
“you’re not,” you say, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, “but you carry more than you let on.”
mark looks away, lips pressing into a faint line. he wants to keep the mood light, to make another dumb spiderman joke but your words hit a little too close. and that unsettles him more than he cares to admit. he clears his throat, “well, does that make you mj or gwen?,” he flirts.
you smirk, “neither. i'm your guy in the chair.”
mark laughs, eyes crinkling, “you mean like ned?”
“exactly. reliable. sarcastic. smarter than you and absolutely not dying in anyone’s tragic love arc.”
“bold of you to assume,” he says with a grin, shaking his head. you grin back, flipping a page in your notebook. you go back to explaining the notes in front of you and he listens, nodding at the right times.
on the surface, everything settles back into easy rhythm — banter and bullet points. but under all the teasing and laughter, one thing stayed unspoken. neither of you had really forgotten. not even a little.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 16. wednesday.
to say mark was excited was a complete understatement. clearing things up with you absolutely helped, he wasn’t left wondering the maybe’s. he blamed the momentary feeling on that night and it was done. explained. buried deep in a box somewhere.
today was all about his reward and he was absolutely ecstatic. he’d been counting down to this ever since your little basketball game ended in his favor. he knew exactly what he wanted as soon as the proposition was brought up. this was his moment – his perfect payback for that blowjob that ended in tears and torment.
so when you asked him what he wanted and he replied with, “i want to cut tutoring short today and have my way with you,” you had no other option but to oblige.
which is how you ended up here now, seated between his legs, thighs parted, panties long gone. your slick glistened in the warm light of your bedroom, a blindfold wrapped securely around your head – completely open, completely at his mercy. the cloth stays firm over your eyes, heightening every sense. you feel everything. his breath on your shoulder, the heat of his thighs beneath yours, the stillness between touches. you sat there, waiting…then you felt it.
something cool and slender lightly tracing along the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, legs twitching at the unexpected contact, “what is that?”
mark hums thoughtfully, as if considering the question, “just something i found lying around.”
it moves again, gliding upward, skimming where you needed him most. he circles the object around your clit without pressure, ghosting enough to make you clench. you shift your hips, trying to chase the feeling, but he’s already pulling it away.
“mark,” you grit out, jaw tightening.
“shh,” he murmurs, nibbling on your ear, “let me enjoy my reward.” you swallow hard, heat pooling in your stomach. you were sure this torture was going to last forever and you knew he was doing this on purpose. teasing you to the edge, just like you did to him.
the thing, whatever it is, drags lightly over your folds now, collecting wetness as it goes, “so fucking wet and i haven’t even touched you yet,” he whispers beside you, making goosebumps rise throughout your neck. you’re about to snap a snarky remark when his fingers suddenly replace the object, two of them sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness, pressing just enough to build pressure but not nearly enough to satisfy.
“fuck,” you gasp, fingers clutching his thigh as your hips jerked. he lets you have his digits, inserting two of his fingers and curling them just where you need him the most but before you can even enjoy it, he pulls back.
you whine as he withdraws, leaving you empty and throbbing, “we’re just starting, kitten,” you hear the smirk in his voice and it’s absolutely annoying — to be vulnerable this way and have no control.
mark brings the mystery object back, the cool tip sliding up your folds again, this time more deliberately. you squirm, desperate for friction. the blindfold has turned your entire body into a nerve – every inch sensitive, every second unbearable. then you feel his hands again, large and warm, settling on your thigh, the other slipping into your shirt and gliding up your torso, fingers leaving a blaze of fire until he reaches your breast.
you inhale sharply when his fingertips ghost over one nipple, already peaked and begging for attention, “you’re always so sensitive here,” his voice cuts through the silence, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier. his thumb brushes over the bud, a whine slipping from your lips. he has you memorized by now. the little ticks that turn you on. which was a lot for mark, considering most of his past sexual partners had only been for one night.
something brushes over your nipple – cool, round, smooth. you’re not sure if its the same object and it’s driving you insane, “what the hell is that?,” you ask, your voice breathless. mark doesn’t answer this time, just littering kisses along your neck, letting the object speak for him. it circles your nipple slowly, deliberately, then he flicks it lightly, sharp enough to make you gasp and arch forward, your head resting against that space between his neck. his free arm comes up to your waist, keeping you locked against him.
“you’re not allowed to squirm yet,” he murmurs near your ear, voice thick with satisfaction. he switched to your other breast, teasing it with that same cold precision. the contrast between your flushed skin and the chill of the object is enough to make your toes curl. you needed more.
you writhe, frustrated, “mark, please,” you beg for something…anything.
“shhh kitten,” he soothes, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “be patient.”
his mouth returned to your neck, warm and wet, while the mystery object rolled lazily across your breast. your aching cunt left throbbing and dripping. you feel the hard press of his cock through his sweats and still he makes no move to satisfy either of you. he trails lower, teeth grazing your shoulder and just when you think the cold object might return to your nipple, it doesn’t.
instead, his fingers return, sliding down your slick folds. two strokes. three. then gone again.
“mark,” you gasp, body twitching under the restraint of his arm. you can’t think of any other word but his name — so caught up in the thrill of it all.
“you keep saying my name like i’m gonna feel bad,” he says with a chuckle, “i’m just repaying you.” then he brings the cold object down again, dragging it teasingly along your inner thigh before brushing it just over your clit, making you shudder in his hold, as he smirks behind you.
“kitten, you wanna know what i’ve been using?,” he whispers, smug and quiet. you nod quickly, barely able to breathe. he brought it up in front of your face, knowing full well you couldn’t see it and said, clearly amused, “your pen.”
you groan, “there’s no way it feels that good,” you managed to say. he just laughed quietly, brushing your hair back from your face, “the power of a blindfold,” he whispers. you barely had time to process his words before he was shifting behind you, leaving you sitting on your bed alone. a mixture of confusion, excitement and slight fear at the thought of what he has planned.
mark makes his way around, standing at the foot of your bed as he watches, loving the way you had no idea what’s coming to you. his hand makes contact with your shoulder, making you jump slightly as he pushes you down to your sheets, your back making contact with your soft pillows. you sucked in a shaky breath, wonder traveling throughout your body. then he hovers over you, kissing the hollow of your throat as he carefully pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere, exposing your tits to the cool air. he lets his tongue graze, tracing a path down the center of your chest until his lips find your nipple again. you gasped as his mouth closed around it, sucking, warm and wet. the suction paired with the flick of his tongue in a rhythm that made your spine arch.
“fucking perfect,” he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing before he soothed the sting with another kiss. his hand moved to the other breast, thumb circling lazily around the peak, squeezing just enough to make your hips buck.
but he didnt move lower, “you like being edged, don’t you?,” he whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction.
you whimpered, nodding, desperate, frustrated.
“use your words, kitten,” mark demands.
“yes,” you gasped, “please, mark, just–,” your plea broke off into a cry when his mouth trailed lower, down your stomach, leaving goosebumps behind. he stopped just above your mound, breathing you in like you were the only thing in the world.
“you smell like heaven,” he praises. then his hands gripped your thighs, firm and possessive, pulling you open further – his mouth on you in a second, hot, wet and needy. his tongue dragged through your folds slowly, deliberately. one long, teasing lick. then another, circling your clit, keeping you on the edge. you moaned, loud and desperate, your hand flying to his hair instinctively. he groaned at the contact, encouraged. finally, he gave your clit the attention it had been begging for, flicking, sucking, licking until your thighs were trembling.
and just when your stomach starts to clench — he pulls back.
“no–,” you gasped, “don’t stop, please—”
but he had already moved his mouth, licking the inside of your thigh, soothing and tortuous all at once.
“not yet,” he said, voice dark and patient, “you don’t get to come until i say so.”
you could cry from how badly you needed him. he was relentless, bending your body to his rhythm, his pace. his tongue returned, more insistent now, fingers slipping inside you this time, curling just right and every time that heat started to spiral, his mouth would pull away, his rhythm would slow and the wave would slip just out of reach.
it was torture – delicious, devastasting torture.
your breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. the blindfold making it worse. every sound, every touch, every breath he took, every swipe of his tongue felt magnified. and mark was loving every second of it. the way he had all control under his fingertips.
“you keep sucking in my fingers,” he murmured, voice thick with arousal. “you wanna cum that badly, kitten?”
you nod furiously, broken whimpers slipping past your lips, your pride long gone. then you felt it again. that same, cool rounded object from earlier. your pen.
he dragged the tip of it along your folds, now slick and pulsing from his touch, watching the way your legs twitched with each pass, “bet you’ll never look at this thing the same again,” he whispered near your hip. the pen collects your dripping arousal, “such a mess,” he breathes out, tongue surprisingly latching onto your folds again, sucking your juices. you whimpered as he slides a finger inside you again, slower, deeper, making you feel every second of it.
“you feel how close you are?,” he asked, voice gravelly, dangerous. you nodded frantically, choking on a breath only for him to pull back again.
“mark, please, i’m sorry,” you cry out desperately. wanting so bad to finally be relieved. the edging was too much. your clit was throbbing so painfully and you needed him so badly. he leaves you untouched for a second too long, watching you squirm for him.
then with absolutely no warning, mark slaps his hard cock against your cunt, making you moan out in pleasure. he slides his member up and down your wet folds, teasing your entrance and for a moment you don’t even care that he’s not wearing a condom. his skin felt so fucking good againts yours. you just wanted him inside you. you felt the tip of him nudge against you again. but he didn’t push in. he just stayed there, teasing.
you whined, toes curling into the sheets, body arching up, “please….”
he chuckled, low, quiet, “i love hearing you beg,” he said, his tip brushing over your clit, solid and hot against your slick, “makes it real tempting to give in.”
“i could take you right now, kitten,” he whispered, voice wrecked with restraint, “you’d be so good for me, so ready,” he hums against your skin.
you gasped, barely holding onto your sanity, practically sobbing, “please do it, mark, please i need you,” you were soaked, throbbing, voice breaking with utter desperation — that was all he needed to hear. mark wraps his member and not even a second later he finally thrusts into you, sliding into your hole with ease. your body was so prepared for him, walls completely squeezing around his cock so perfectly, so warm.
he yanks off the blindfold from your face and for a moment the room spins with light and clarity until his brown eyes come into view. your tear-filled eyes meet his and the heat in his steals your breath. he was breathing just as hard as you are. just as worked up. he brings your legs up to your shoulders, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, holding on to him like he was your lifeline. he was in so deeply, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. you were trembling, panting hard, jaw clenching as you fought to keep your eyes open. mark hovered above you, his thrusts unrelenting, his own breath ragged, the heat between you unbearable. you moaned his name like it was the only word you’ve ever learned, your voice dissolving into desperate, broken sounds.
“i’m gonna—mark, i’m gonna…,” your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into his skin.
“—go on kitten,” he growled in your ear, voice thick with hunger, “cum for me.”
that was it. the pleasure tore through you like a wave, your whole body arching as your orgasm finally hit you. hard. jaw going slack, vision blurring, eyes rolling back as you practically saw stars. the way your pussy pulsed around him sent mark over the edge, “fuck kitten, such a good girl,” he managed to say in between breaths, before he was groaning in your neck, spilling into the condom. his movements slowed as he rode it out, then he collapsed gently on top of you, both of you shaking, skin slick and flushed.
you stay there for a moment or two, trying to even your ragged breathing. then…laughter bubbled from your lips. light, uncontrollable, like something cracked open inside you and it sounds like music to his ears.
“what?” his head lifted slightly, brows drawn, cock still inside you.
you giggled again, still catching your breath, “h-holy shit, mark” you gasped, eyes glassy with aftershocks, “i don’t think i’ve ever came that hard before.”
he gave you that crooked, self-satisfied boyish smirk and you almost regret complimenting him. then slowly, he pulled out of you, making your body ache with the sudden absence.
carefully, he brushed the tears from the corner of your eyes, “you okay though? i wasn’t too much?”
your heart tripped in your chest. you hated that it did.
you nodded, keeping it casual, ignoring the way his concern made something twist painfully inside you, “yeah. i’m good.”
he nods, settling beside you as you laid there, still catching your breath, your limbs buzzing, body sore in a satisfying way. mark hadn’t moved much either, his arm casually draped over your thigh, chest rising and falling steadily with you. neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t awkward. it was warm. settled. easy in a way it probably shouldn’t have been. it was too dangerous. you needed to break it.
“i’m hungry,” you said, voice still scratchy.
mark glanced over at you, a brow raised, “i just gave you an orgasm of a lifetime and the first thing on your mind is food?”
you gave him a lazy grin, “we burned a lot of calories from that, we deserve carbs”
he didn’t comment on your use of we. or the way that there was a we now makes his heart skip a beat. but the fact that he liked the sound of a we was far worse. that box he buried somewhere deep inside, suddenly popping up.
“you’re ridiculous,” he says, forcing out another laugh.
you reached for your phone on the nightstand, “pizza okay with you?,” and he realizes you’re inviting him to stay. you’re not kicking him out like you usually do after a session.
he pushes it a bit further, wanting to see how far this invitation goes “as long as i get to pick the movie this time.”
you narrowed your eyes at him like he’d stepped on thin ice and he’s afraid he pushed it a little too far, misread the moment, until you say, “and what movie are you picking?”
a smile curved his lips as he grabbed his shirt and sweats off the ground, putting it on, “spiderman. obviously,” he says, already making his way to your living room couch.
you blinked at him then grabbed the first clothes within reach, your shorts from the far corner and his hoodie slung over your desk chair, “which one?,” you called through your room, putting the clothes on.
“there’s only one right answer!”
“andrew’s?,” you teased, walking out of your bedroom. he froze for a second. you, in his hoodie, smiling like that. that same smile from freshman year. his brain short-circuited. you were making this whole forgetting thing really hard.
“hope you don’t mind,” you said with a small laugh, “i have no idea where you threw my shirt,” you chuckle.
“that’s fine,” he replied, maybe a little too fast, “and no not andrew’s”
you snorted, “fine, i’ll order pepperoni and you can fangirl over your web-slinging childhood hero,” you smirk, calling papa john’s.
mark grinned as he turned on the t.v. and started searching for the movie, “hey, that’s spiderman, protector of new york, thank you very much.”
you settled beside him a few minutes later, pizza box on the coffee table, movie playing, quiet jokes exchanged through bites of crust and cheese. somewhere between tobey maguire’s awkward charm and halfway through the pizza box, the space between you disappeared. this time, there was no gap. no careful leaning away. your thighs brushed his and neither of you moved. neither of you said anything. but maybe, just maybe, you both felt it — that same quiet something that had been growing since that friday night. still unspoken. still unnamed.
and mark realizes that he could get used to this.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 18. friday.
the door barely clicked shut before mark had his hands on you – rough, needy, all control. he didn’t waste a second. not a single hello, not a single warning. his mouth crashed into yours, all hunger and heat, urgent and commanding, steering you straight to the bedroom with the kind of focus only frustration could fuel.
“m-mark, what’s wrong?,” you managed to ask, concern laced in your voice.
“need you. now,” he growled, voice low, flat with no room for playfulness. you didn’t even make it to the bed. he spun you, yanked your shorts down, shoved you onto your desk chair. one hand ripping open a condom, the other dragging your panties aside and in one swift motion, he was inside you.
you gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping your desk table, not at all prepared for him. there was no easing in, no pause. just raw, relentless need. and he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. he had too much to burn off. he thrusted in and out of your hole with a desperate rhythm that had you gasping his name between moans. the sound of skin slapping echoing through your bedroom walls.
“fuuuck, kitten, just what i needed,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding on for life. you were sure his fingerprints would mark your skin. he pulls you back onto him with every snap of his hips, like he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough.
“mark, fuck,” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. but he didn’t slow down. he was absolutely locked in, chest heaving, only focused on reaching that high.
“everything’s fucked,” he muttered between gritted teeth, slamming into you hard, “i just needed this…needed you.”
you felt him twitch inside you, pace stuttering for half a second, just enough to send that familiar heat spiraling through your core. the roughness, the force, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing that mattered – it pushed you straight to the edge. your body tensed, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you. you clenched incredibly tight around him and that’s all it took.
“shit, i’m cumming,” he groaned, choking on the sound as he slammed in one last time, hips jerking, fingers still digging into your flesh like he’d break without the contact.
for a moment, all that filled the room was the sound of your breathing – heavy, wrecked, uneven. he stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against your back, arms still wrapped around your waist like letting go would make the world crash in again. his breath fanned hot across your skin, heavy and uneven but slowly starting to settle.
you blinked through the haze, heart still racing, legs barely steady beneath you. you turned your head slightly, voice hoarse but gentle, “mark, what was that?”
he didn’t answer at first. just exhaled, slow and ragged. then he pulled out with care, discarding the used condom and pulling his sweatpants back up. his hands steady you as he gently placed your panties back in place. he turned you to face him, guiding you to sit, and then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips – soft, slow and achingly tender. the complete opposite of everything that had come before.
“are you okay?,” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his face, searching for the answers in his eyes. he allowed himself to lean into your touch. almost like he needed it to breathe, eyes fluttering close for a second.
“jeno got in a fight,” he sighs heavily, voice low, almost defeated.
he sank into his knees in front of you, resting his head in your lap. without thinking, your fingers immediately thread through his hair like they belonged there, like this was normal. his arms wrapped around your waist with quiet desperation, “it got recorded, reached the dean in seconds and i had to go clean it up, make sure we don’t get shut down,” he says tiredly.
you just listen to him, letting him unravel.
“and finals are on monday, i think i’m ready…we’ve been studying really well, my quizzes went okay but it’s also my last chance…if i don’t pass these classes, i'm off the basketball team.”
his arms tightened around your waist like he was bracing himself.
“it’s just been…a lot, everyone thinks i’ve got it all together. they don’t even know i’ve managed to screw it all up…i’m failing my classes, the team…everyone,” his voice broke on the last word, barely more than a whisper.
his eyes shut again, like he couldn’t bear to have anyone see him like this — mark, who was everyone’s favorite. mark, who always made confidence look effortless. mark, who everyone admired, who never looked tired. mark, who was here, on your bedroom floor, falling apart.
and you realized now just how much he’d been carrying and how alone he must have felt doing it. he was a mirror of your own reflection. so you ask him the one question you wished people asked you.
“do you want to talk about it?,” you whispered, thumb softly brushing along his cheek.
his jaw tensed beneath your touch and you thought he might pull away. shove the vulnerability back down and wrap himself in that playful charm he wore so easily when you were sitting across from him at study session or tangled up in the sheets. but instead, his shoulders slumped. he starts, voice low and rough, “i thought i could fix it, just grind harder, push through like i’ve always been able to…but things just kept stacking up. practices, papers and now this thing with the fraternity.”
you’d seen the cracks, of course. you weren’t oblivious. him being late, the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders stay tense no matter how relaxed he tried to seem. but he always played it off and you never pushed.
“i couldn’t tell anyone,” he continued, softer now, “i’m the leader, the co-captain…i'm supposed to know what to do. everyone leans on me, if i fall apart what happens to the rest of them?.” he lets out a bitter, humorless laugh.
“and i couldn’t tell you. you’re already helping me so much with tutoring and the sex and i didn’t want to drag you into my shit. especially since…this thing between is isnt supposed to include this, right?”
you didn’t respond right away because he was right — there were walls between you that needed to stay up. this was supposed to be easy. you were supposed to be each other’s safe option. the ones who didn't come with emotional trauma. the ones who wouldn’t ask for more. the ones who never pried, just notes, flashcards and casual sex without the weight of feelings or expectations.
“we’re still friends mark,” you said gently, “and friends don't let you go through the hard stuff alone.”
your voice was soft, but steady. you offered a small, honest smile and he finally looks up, meeting your eyes, letting himself be seen. he didn’t say anything after that, just looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.
you didn’t break the gaze, didn’t try to fill the silence. you just stayed there, fingers still gently curling in his hair. letting him be here. letting him breathe. and he did – his head rested in your lap, arms still loosely wrapped around your waist like he didn’t quite know how to let go. didn’t want to let go. you could feel the weight of him, every little thing he’s been holding in, slowly settling.
no one rushed to define what this moment meant. no one tried to make a joke to cut the lingering tension — it was just quiet. stretching between you full of things unsaid. of a certain kind of understanding that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. and for now, this was enough.
just two people, sitting in their own wreckage, breathing together, pretending they weren’t crossing a line.
eventually, you felt the need to offer him something more than quiet comfort. something normal. something safe.
“what do you say, we skip tutoring session for the day and watch spiderman 2, i can order chinese this time?,” you say, finally breaking the quiet.
his eyes flicked up to yours. there was a pause, like the suggestion took a second to land. then slowly, the tension in his face bagan to ease, a smile tugging on his lips, “and what about finals week?”
“mark you know it, you’ve gotten every single question right our last two sessions,” you reassure him, “there’s not a single doubt in my mind you’re going to pass,” you smirked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.
that pulled a real breath of relief from him, a soft laugh, muffled against your lap, “we’re watching tobey’s spiderman 2, right?”
for the rest of the night, there was no tutoring, no expectations, no pressure. just honey walnut shrimp, fried rice, spider-man swinging through new york city and two people, curled up on the couch, who weren’t quite sure what they were but certain that this comfort, this closeness, was something they wanted.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 20. sunday.
mark: dude
mark: [1 image]
mark: saw this and thought of you
kitten: ???
kitten: mark. that’s just a cat.
mark: she has your eyes!!
kitten: bro 😭😭
kitten: she looks like she’s ready to attack u
mark: exactly
mark: just like you! 😼
kitten: seek help
kitten: and good luck on your finals markkk
kitten: you're gonna kill it
mark: what’s my reward if i pass? 🫣
kitten: freedom from me 🙂↕️
kitten: sex with anyone you want! 🙂↕️🙂↕️
kitten: any day you want!! 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
mark stared at your texts, thumbs hovering over the screen, his grin being wiped off — it was exactly the kind of thing you’d say. playful, detached, safe. like he hasn’t seen the most vulnerable parts of you. like you haven’t seen the worst parts of him.
his stomach churns in a funny way. it didn’t hit him until now that passing his classes also meant your tutoring sessions were over. no more flashcards, no more learning each other’s bodies, no more movie nights and greasy take out foods. no more you.
he set his phone down beside him, letting his head fall back against the pillow. suddenly, the finish line didn’t feel like a victory lap. it felt like a goodbye. and sure, you would still be around, he would still see you in passing, on campus, in random parties – you would still be his friend.
the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth. if he was being completely honest, he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want this to end just because the excuse to stay had run out. he wanted to be on your couch, watching spiderman. you still had six of them to go. he wanted the greasy takeout, the shared silence, the casual way your leg would brush against his like it didn’t mean everything.
he wanted to keep learning you. your favorite color, your favorite songs, your favorite everything until there was nothing left to learn. and even then, when all the learning is done, he just wanted to be there.
he wanted to be allowed to stay. to be able to wrap his arms around you and not wonder if he’s crossing a line. to show up with all your favorite snacks, and this time he knows what they are. to kiss you and not feel that sick, sinking guilt in his stomach when it meant more to him than it ever should have.
he started typing: what if i don’t want freedom from you?
he stared at it for a second. then deleted it.
typed again: sooo i still get to bother you after finals, right?
he deleted that one too.
mark: haha, nice 👍
he sighed, tossing his phone face-down onto the bed like that would somehow quiet the tightness in his chest.
your phone buzzed again. his response felt off or maybe it was just all in your head. you shook the thoughts away and turned back to your laptop, reviewing for your own classes.
you weren’t going there. you couldn't.
you refuse to be too much again. too needy.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 21. monday.
when mark stepped out of his last class of the day, he found you immediately, leaning against the wall, a drink in your hand, smiling at him.
before he could even think about it, his feet were already moving, carrying him, each step closing in towards you as he pulled you into a hug. his face nestles in the crook of your neck, a quiet sigh of relief slipping past his lips. he just wanted to stay here for a while. wrapped in the calm only you seemed to bring.
you froze, just for a moment. the hug catches you off guard. you’ve never been this touchy in public. you could feel the eyes on you, see a few raised brows in your peripheral vision. still, after a beat or two, you gave in, arms looping around his waist, one hand still gripping the cup of milk tea you got for him.
“it wasn’t that bad, was it?,” you murmured near his ear. he chuckles against your neck, the breath of air tickling before leaning back just enough to look at you, his hands still lingering on your hips like he’d forgotten to let go.
“i’m pretty sure i aced it,” he said, all confidence and charm.
you raise a brow, “so why did you just hug me like the world was ending?”
his smirk flickered, replaced by something quieter, heavier “you said once i passed, this would be over.”
he tried to keep it light, but the words tasted bitter, “figured, i should take what i can while i still can.”
you push away the feeling rising in your throat, glancing down at the drink in your hand, shoving the emotion aside “here, i got this for you, a mini reward.”
he takes it with a soft laugh, fingers brushing against yours, just a moment too long. his eyes stayed on you as he took a sip and something about the way he looks at you makes your chest twist — it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. not in daylight. not out here, in the open, where it could be mistaken for something real.
“people are staring at us,” you murmured, gaze dropping.
he doesn’t even glance around them, “let them.”
you tried to deflect, lips tugging into a smirk “what? and ruin your chances with all your girls?”
but he didn’t laugh. he didn’t play along. didn’t take the out this time.
“maybe i only want one girl.”
the breath caught in your throat. your heart stuttered. you looked up at him, eyes searching, desperate to find some hint of irony, some trace of a grin. anything that would let you write it off.
“hmm,” you force out a chuckle, thin and cracked, “you? mr. i don’t go exclusive,” you teased, your voice barely holding steady.
he smiled, but he didn’t deny it. that was when the panic set in.
“i have to go, i still have a class to get to,” and before he could respond, you were already walking away. you didn’t look back. you couldnt.
mark stayed where he was for a while, just watching your figure get smaller and smaller, drink in his hand, feeling the warmth of your body still clinging to his skin. people moved around him in chatter, footsteps on concrete, but it all blurred.
he meant it — he didn’t just let those words slip for no reason. he’d thought about it all night, maybe longer, and when the words came out, they didn’t surprise him. and it didn’t surprise him either how quiet you went, how fast you looked away, how quickly you pivoted back to safe ground, barely entertaining the thought.
you were the girl who didn’t believe in love. he knew that. and you could continue pretending that this was nothing. you could continue to shove it down with a joke, whatever you needed to do to keep him at arm’s length.
but he was done playing along. he wasn’t going to pretend anymore.
he wanted you to have all his mondays, wednesdays and fridays. even the tuesdays and thursdays. and every last goddamn saturdays and sundays. if you’d let him.
⟢
mark’s words echoes in your ears, clear and sharp and impossible to shake as you lay in your bed, wide awake.
you replay the moment in your head, over and over. the way he held you like you were something to hold onto. the way his fingers didn’t let go right away.
the way your heart betrayed you.
you hated how easy it would be to believe him. to want more. to hope. again.
but love had already burned you. already ruined you. it hollowed you out, left you scattered in pieces you barely recognized. you gave and gave until there was nothing left to give and even then, you still tried to be enough. you made yourself smaller, more manageable, easier to love. and you hated it. hated who you became when love took over – clingy, dependent, pathetic, insecure.
the kind of person who lost herself in someone else’s orbit and called it devotion. the kind of person who mistook being needed for being desired. the kind of person who became the version they needed until the real you felt like a distant memory.
it took everything to rebuild yourself from the wreckage love left behind. you had to learn how to be alone again. how to stop apologizing for needing anything at all. you had to teach yourself to exist without someone else’s hands holding you together.
you swore to yourself you’d never be that girl again.
but here you are, heart stuttering at a single sentence from a boy who was never supposed to matter this much. all your careful walls cracking, your breath catching, body already leaning toward him like muscle memory.
and even after all the warning signs going off in your head, every scar whispering don’t, you can’t help but want him.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 23. wednesday.
there was a knock on your door. you didn’t have to look through the peephole to know who it was.
you consider not opening it. pretend you weren’t home. an internal conflict going on between your mind and your heart. one half of you aching for him, the other half gripping onto the remaining boundary you had left.
you sigh, dragging your feet across the door, fingers hesitating on the knob.
“kitten, i know you’re there, the light is on,” mark’s voice announces through the other door. the nickname didn’t feel harmless anymore. it felt like a hand reaching through a door you were trying desperately to seal shut. a reminder of the closeness you’d let happen. the thing you swore wouldn’t need again.
“i brought food,” he added, tone lighter this time. like this could be another normal night of movies and food and silence where feelings should go.
you hated how much you wanted it. hated how you unlocked the door and pulled it open, meeting the brown warm eyes that was so dangerous. he was in one of his hoodies that always looked too comfortable, takeout in his arms with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. or maybe you didn’t want to.
“i thought we could watch spider-man 3, it’s the last tobey one,” he said, raising the food like it was some sort of offering.
you stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in and he walked in like he always did. like he belonged here, in your space. he removed his shoes, placed everything on the coffee table, sat on his side of the couch like everything was normal. like nothing happened. like those words didn’t leave his mouth and had you stuck on him ever since. like he hadn’t said something too big for this setup you had.
and you let him. you followed the script too. you dimmed the lights, grabbed the blanket from the side of the couch and pulled it over both of your legs, hit play on the movie.
for a while, neither of you said a word. until the movie reached a lull and you realized not a single joke has been said between you. you sneak a look at him only to find he was already looking at you.
“why are you looking at me like that?,” you whisper into the night air.
“like what?,” he deflected, smile barely there.
you raise a brow, giving him a pointed look, but your heart is already thudding, “like that,” you murmur.
mark’s smile fades into something quieter. something real. his eyes didn’t leave yours, “maybe i’m just trying to memorize you,” he said softly, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for days. it was quiet and honest. and it wrecked you.
your chest tightened. heat crept up your neck, blooming beneath your skin, but it wasn’t the good kind. it was panic, nostalgia, longing, everything you’d spent years trying to outrun. you blinked fast, trying to swallow the ache, the confusion, the hope. you couldn’t hold his gaze.
then his hand moved, gentle, almost afraid, thumb brushing over your thigh, “does this really have to end after finals?,” he asked. his voice wasn’t playful. there was something almost broken in it. something that wanted more.
you look down at his hand. it’s warm. steady.
you forced your voice into something light, something distant, “what do you mean mark?,” you play dumb, “you can still come over, we can still hang out and watch movies.”
“you know that’s not what i mean, y/n,” his voice cut clean through you. he looked at you like you held the whole world and you hated it. because you’ve seen that look in someone else’s eyes before and you remember how that story ended.
“i want you.” he said. he’s always been upfront, the kind of guy who goes for exactly what he wants. honest. no confusion. he wasn’t going to stop that just because what he wanted now was a little different than usual.
“—not just the movie nights. i want to be able to kiss you without wondering if i’m crossing the line. i want to hold your hand. i don’t want to have to leave.”
you could hear it in his voice, that he meant every word. that he was laying himself bare. your lungs were full of things you’ve never said. fears you never voiced.
“do you want me because you want me,” you whispered, “or because you need me?”
the room went still. mark blinked, caught off guard. his face twisted in confusion. he didn’t understand the question. “what’s the difference?”
you nodded once, slowly, even though he didn’t get it. especially because he didn’t get it. that was all the confirmation you needed. the quiet confirmation of every fear you've been carrying. your thoughts spiraled, fast and breathless – he saw you as the person who kept him from falling apart, not the person who could be loved on her own terms. you didn’t want to be a need. you wanted to be a choice. wanted to be loved for your fire, your flaws, your silence, your mess. all of it.
you pulled the blanket off, stood up, walked toward the kitchen under the disguise of grabbing water but you really just needed the distance, needed to breathe.
behind you, mark didn’t move. the space where you’d just been now empty and echoing. the movie played on, some forgotten scene washing the walls in flickering color, fading into the background. all he could hear was the question that you’d asked. the silence that followed after he said the wrong thing. the way you walked away like you were holding yourself together with a string.
he stood slowly, following you into the kitchen, footsteps soft like he was afraid he’d scare you off if he made too much noise. you were standing there, back to him.
“i didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, careful.
when you didn’t respond, he continued, “i don’t need you like a fix,” he stepped closer, gently, slowly. and then, he lets his confessions stumble into the night air. all of the words he’d been dying to tell you.
“i want you like—,” his voice broke slightly, “like i want to wake up with you next to me, i want to know your favorite things, i want your sarcasm, your bad jokes, i want to be the one you call when your day’s gone to shit or when someone tells you a funny story and you just have to share it with someone, i want all the parts you hide. that’s what i meant.”
he was so close now. you closed your eyes and it terrifies you how much you wanted that too.
“i’ve been through this before, mark,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i gave someone everything and he only loved me because he needed me, because it was easy at first. not the real me. not the mess. not the scared, guarded, overthinking, too-much me.”
mark stepped closer until there was barely space between you.
“y/n, i’m not him,” he says, voice full of conviction, “let me prove it. if it takes time, i’ll wait. if you need space, i’ll give it. but please stop acting like none of this is real, stop acting like this was all just tutoring and sex. don’t shut me out because someone else couldn’t handle you. because i can. i want to.”
you stared at the floor. every wall you’d built over the years was trembling in your chest, all of them threatening to collapse and you were desperately trying to keep them together. he was saying everything you’d ever needed someone to say. yet you can’t find it in yourself to believe him.
your fear was louder than your hope.
“i need space,” you breathed. it was all you could manage. your voice almost gave out on the last word.
mark stilled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then he stepped back. just once. and said, gently, “okay.”
he didn’t try to kiss you or hold you or close the space between you with anything physical. and that, more than anything, told you this wasn’t about need.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 25. friday.
the knock came again. you hadn’t expected it, your heart climbing straight into your throat.
you hadn’t spoken since that night. you told him you needed space and to his credit, he gave it. though as soon as he left you wanted him back. you couldn’t even understand your own emotions anymore.
he didn’t call. didn't text and even though it’s only been two days — the silence had been deafening.
your hand hovered near the doorknob again, just like it had before. like you were caught in a loop.
“y/n?,” his voice was softer this time. not playful, not teasing, just quiet and raw, “i…i got my results.”
you closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and the way he was able to shut down all the other voices in your head.
“i haven’t checked it yet,” he added after a beat, “i didn’t want to do it alone.”
something in you cracked and you opened the door. mark stood there, phone in hand, eyes tired and bloodshot like he hadn’t slept well in days. he didn’t step in this time. he just looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. you didn’t say anything. just stepped aside, letting him in. he walked in slowly, like he was afraid he might wake something fragile in the room. you followed him to the couch, sat next to him, close enough to touch but not touching.
he sat with his phone in his palm, screen still black, staring at it.
“just open it,” you said quietly, finally breaking the silence.
he turned to you, eyes searching, “i can’t do it,” he says, handing you the phone “you open it for me.”
you grab it from him, clicking the school’s app and reloading the screen, waiting for the results. the second felt too long, mark’s legs anxiously bouncing, you looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read and his throat catches.
then in one second, your grin grew wider, “you passed!,” you cheered, laughter bubbling from your lips. he hasn’t realized how much he missed that sound until now. the past few days have definitely been an emotional turmoil.
mark blinked, “i..i did?,”
you nodded, laughing again, eyes shining, “you did, mark! look,” you say, shoving the phone in his face.
for a beat, he just stared at you, like he didn’t quite believe it. then it all hit him at once, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally exhaled. relief, pride, disbelief all crashing into his chest in one wave.
and before he could stop himself he pulled you into his lap in a mini victory, both of you laughing, excited, happy. his arms wrapped around you tight, burying his face into your shoulder like this was the only place he ever wanted to be. you hug him just as tight, now straddling him, arms curled around him as you both bask in his victory, your laughter’s harmonizing in the air.
after a few seconds, your body relaxed into his and for the first time in days, it felt easy again, natural. like muscle memory. like this was where you both belonged.
“i knew you could do it,” you murmured near his ear, voice soft. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still holding onto your side like didn’t want to let go yet.
and maybe it was the adrenaline in your system. maybe it was the look on his face. or maybe it was the way his hands lingered on your waist. but you didn’t think.
you leaned in and kissed him.
it was gentle, like asking a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to. he kissed you back with no hesitation, no second guessing. just the feeling of your lips in his, warm and certain.
mark’s hand cup your jaw like you were something breakable and important all at once. there was a slight tremble in his touch, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close. terrified that one wrong move would send you running.
the kiss wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t rushed. it was everything that hadn’t been said, missing each other in a way neither of you had admitted.
your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you steady. your body swayed forward without permission, knowing what it wanted before your mind could catch up. his forehead dropped to yours and for a moment, neither of you said anything.
“i missed you,” you whispered, voice shaking. his eyes fluttered shut at the words, something raw flickering across his features. he kissed you again, slow and intentional. like he needed you to feel every unsaid thing he did not know how to say.
the kiss deepened, soft lips parting, breath mingling. his hand moved down, tracing your spine as he pulled you closer and every inch of your body hummed with anticipation. you tugged on his black shirt, tugging it over his head. you helped each other undress with quiet urgency, fingertips brushing skin, lips reconnecting in between.
mark grabs your thighs, gently lifting you up and turning you over to lay you down on the couch. he hovered over you, eyes dragging slowly down the length of your body, memorizing every line, every curve.
“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your forehead.
your throat tightened.
he trailed kisses over your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder, your breasts. every kiss feeling like a promise. his hands were everywhere, trailing over your waist, the dip of your hip, down your thigh, slow and warm and reverent. he took his time. worshipped every inch like he didn't want to miss a second of this.
he knew exactly where to touch you. knew the spots that ignited that fire in your stomach. he pushes your panties to the side and when his mouth finally found the place between your legs, you gasped, back arching. he groaned at the sound, at the taste of you, gripping your thighs gently, keeping you open for him. he watched your every reaction, paid attention to all of your sinful moans like it was his favorite song. his tongue moved, licking and circling and sucking until you were gasping his name, eyes fluttering shut, legs shaking around his shoulders.
your fingers laced through his, grabbing onto him like he was the last thing keeping you there. and when you came, it hit hard, head thrown back, toes curling. he stayed right there, drawing it out, licking through every wave. he kissed his way back up your body, slow and open mouthed until you pulled him back to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.
“mark,” you whispered, breathless, “bedroom.”
you didn’t have to say it again. mark grabbed your thighs, picking you up with ease, his bare chest warm against yours, legs wrapped around him, heartbeat thudding in rhythm with your own as he carried you to your bedroom. the air between you is charged and fragile in a way it had never been before. as soon as your back hit the mattress, you pulled him down to meet you. lips meeting again. but it wasn’t like the other times. there was no reckless rush, no frantic need. this kiss was deeper. slower. like he wanted to taste every part of you that had been out of reach until now.
his weight settled over you, grounding, familiar but all too different. he kissed you like he was afraid this might be the last time. touching you like he was memorizing you all over again, not your body, he already knew that – but you.
the way you sighed when his fingers brushed over your hips. the way your breath hitched when his lips settled over that sensitive spot below your ear. the way your hands roamed over his back, curling at the base of his spine like you didn’t know how to keep him close enough.
then suddenly, he stopped. bracing himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to yours, “wait,” he murmured, breathing hard, like it physically hurt to not be touching you.
you blinked, disoriented by the sudden break in heat as he curses under his breath, “i-i didn’t bring a condom…i didn’t expect to–,”
“i-i should have some,” you turned quickly, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand only to find your box of condoms empty.
you looked at him. he looked at you. a beat of silence passing in between you.
his hand found yours, warm brown eyes boring into yours, “we don’t have to.”
“do you want me?,” your voice cracked a little and that’s when you realized your throat was tight, feeling more vulnerable than ever.
“of course i do, kitten,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, “but i want you, not just this.”
“i want you, too,” you whisper like you were sharing a secret. his breath hitched. whole body stilling. you saw the moment he gave in, the exact second his restraint cracked.
“i-i’ll pull out,” he mumbled, still trying to be careful.
“i’m on the pill mark,” you said softly, “you can stay inside.” something in him faltered, his breath hitched, eyes darkening. he kissed you again, slower than before, more tentative, like he needed to make sure you meant it.
he lines himself up against your core, giving you one last look for confirmation and when you nod, granting him permission, he finally gave in to what you both wanted. he slid into you slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangling. you felt the tremble in his arms, the shudder that worked through him as he sank fully into you – making you feel full, whole, complete.
you both stilled, letting the moment settle.
you’d done this before. countless times. fast, rough, unspoken. but it had never felt like this. this felt like new territory. this felt like falling.
this wasn’t about sex. this was about every word you’d left unsaid.
your hands roamed up his back, fingernails grazing over the muscles there and his body responded to every touch, arching into you slightly. you could feel every vein on his cock, every twitch, every pulse. he moved slowly, deeper than he had before, watching your face for every flicker of reaction.
mark’s hand came up to brush the hair from your cheek, as he littered kisses from your cheekbones, along your jaw, every inch of skin he could find, “i was made for you” he whispered.
your chest ached, eyes burned. you didn’t know what to do with those words so instead you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. desperate to shut him up. to shut yourself up. to make the ache go away. every movement was slow, sensual, too vulnerable. every inch of your skin between you whispering i missed you, don’t leave again, please feel what i’m feeling.
his hand laced with yours, fingers locking tight, fitting together like two connecting pieces of a puzzle. it was all too much. the way he stayed close, nose brushing your cheek. the way he murmured your name under his breath like it was the only word he knew.
you whispered his name when that coil in your stomach started to tighten, the pressure ready to be released, tension curling through your body. he kissed your temple, your cheekbone, your mouth, over and over again as you came undone beneath him. your legs trembled, breath hitched, back arching as he talked you through it, murmuring praises in your ear.
he followed soon after, body shuddering against yours as he gave in, marking your walls, a grunt of your name spilling from his lips. and even then, he didn’t let go of your hand. he stayed inside you long after, face buried in the curve of your neck, body heavy over yours in the best way. neither of you said anything, just basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies.
you’ve never felt fuller. the feeling of skin on skin. of a truth too big to name yet.
and when he pulled out, you felt the loss of him like a jolt. your body throbbed, empty and aching. he reached for the tissues on your bedside table, gently wiping away the mess you two made.
you swallowed hard, “mark-”
his eyes searched yours, desperate and open and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. he was just as scared as you. scared that you would push him away again, “please,” he begs, “don’t make me leave.”
“i don’t know how to do this,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t know how to accept this.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word. that one word lingering in both of your tongues.
mark’s face softened, something inside him cracking at your words. he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, “we can figure it out,” he says, “but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight…for tonight let's just…stay here.”
your eyes stung. he wasn’t asking for promises. he wasn’t demanding answers. he was just asking you not to run. not yet. you nodded and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. neither of you said anything after that. he shifted beside you, pulling you into his arms, your body curling naturally into the space against his chest. one of his hands wrapped around your back, the other held your hand like he was scared you would just disappear.
you laid there, wrapped in him, your heart a mess of silence and scars. listening to the beat of his heart. trying to believe this could be real.
“i don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered into his skin.
“you already do,” he murmured, raw and honest, brushing his lips to your hair.
“i’m sorry.”
“there’s nothing to be sorry for, kitten. i’d rather be hurt with you than feel nothing without you,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. your eyes fluttered closed at that, too tired to hold everything in your chest. too afraid of what would happen when morning came. but for right now, in this moment, you let yourself stay.
and somewhere between his breathing and the ache in your chest, you fell asleep in his arms, tangled up in a mess of limbs, heartbreak and that word you both can’t say.
ᓚᘏᗢ april 26. saturday.
mark woke up to the soft morning light filtering in through your bedroom window, stretching across the sheets like a quiet whisper. the space beside him cold. his hand reached out before his eyes even opened, instinctively searching for you, but the space was empty, only leaving behind the shape of your figure.
his brows furrowed as he sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his chest. the room felt too still. like the warmth had left with you. he got up, heart tightening as his bare feet hits the floor, pulling on his sweats as he stepped into your living room — empty.
no note. no text. no sound of the shower. just silence. the kind of silence that presses on your ribs and makes everything feel heavier than it should.
mark exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. this wasn’t new – this disappearing act of yours, distant and cold. but it hurt more today. especially after last night. after they way you kissed him like you meant it. the way you held him like you wanted him. the way you made love to him like you loved him.
he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. the victory of passing his finals felt like a faded memory now. and maybe you were just getting breakfast? maybe you were getting coffee? maybe you went out for a quick walk? but deep down, he knew better.
because when someone leaves without saying goodbye, it’s never just about getting coffee – it’s about fear. about retreat. about trying to stuff last night back into that box. a box where it doesn’t fit anymore.
he didn’t know what would happen next but he made you a promise and he’s determined to keep it. even if you never let him this close again. even if this was the last night he’d get to love you the way he wanted to. but he wouldn’t push. he wouldn’t beg. he wouldn’t ask you to feel more than you were ready to. he knew your walls were built from heartbreak and survival and he would never try to tear them down.
but he’ll show up — quietly, steadily, solid where you expected everyone to vanish. he wouldn’t ask for anything in return. not your love, not your certainty, not even your presence. just the chance to exist nearby. just the permission to care.
you didn’t have to earn his love by loving him back.
and if someday you turned around and realized you didn’t want to be alone anymore. he’d be here, welcoming you with open arms.
⟢
you hadn’t meant to leave like that. not really.
you told yourself it was just a short walk. just some air. just to clear your head before the morning got too loud and the reality of your actions settled in too deep.
your lips still felt the ghost of his. your skin still hummed with the way he touched you like he knew you — not just the version you showed him on movie nights and tutoring sessions, but the messy, terrified, too much version you’d spent years trying to hide. he kissed you like he wasn’t afraid of her. and that pushed you further down your fears.
you didn’t know if you were allowed to believe in it. so you left. not to hurt him. never too hurt him. but to protect yourself. protect him from you. to build the distance before you both could fall all the way in.
you couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when you told him he passed — a mixture of excitement and bittersweet emotion clearly on display. the way he hugged you like you were home. and then, god, you kissed him. and for the first time in forever, kissing someone didn’t feel like an escape. you swallowed hard. you were so afraid of these emotions. of needing him.
you went back home when the sun was down, mark nowhere to be seen, except for a note left on your coffee table, written in mark’s handwriting:
“call me if you need me.”
just simple words that made your chest ache.
if. not when.
he wasn’t expecting you to need him. wasn’t asking you to lose yourself again, to shrink, to bleed out the softest parts of you just to keep him. he wasn’t trying to save you or fix you or unravel you for the sake of making you his.
he left you a choice, control fully in your hands. a door, cracked open.
if you need me.
not a condition. not a plea. just kindness wrapped in restraint. not loud or overwhelming. not all-consuming. just patient. just quiet. just there.
ᓚᘏᗢ one week later. may 3. saturday.
you never contacted him. you didn’t know how to face him.
some days, you’d go home to take-out waiting for you by the door, still warm, like he’d just left. there were messages left in your phone. messages that you read over and over again, finger hovering above the keyboard. a reminder that mark was still there. that he still cares.
you just didn’t know what to do with that.
“c’mon y/n, come to the party at the wayv frat tonight,” your best friend, yeri, says through the phone, her voice bright and pleading.
“yeri, i don’t really feel like partying,” you sigh, voice low and dull.
“y/n, you can’t push us away too, we’re your friends,” she says more firmly now.
you told her all about it a couple nights ago, over the fried chicken mark left at your doorstep, the soju in your fridge and a loose tongue that couldn’t keep your pain in any longer.
you spilled everything. what happened with mark, how it started, how it ended and yeri almost killed you with your own pillow. you can still hear her voice now, going through every stage of disbelief like it was a full-blown performance.
she went from, “are you kidding me?! mark lee?!,”followed by a dramatic gasp and a mischievous smirk, “was he good?? was he big?,” then came the pause, wide eyes, jaw dropping surprise “he said he only wanted one girl!!?? THE mark lee?? wanting one girl???,” and then her voice cracked, eyes misting as she whispered, “he wanted to know your favorite things?!?!” like it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.
and then she strangled you with your own pillow when you got to the end of the story.
she was very much #teammark at the moment.
she was tired of your self sabotaging, your walls, your stubbornness — the way you rejected affection like it was poison. the way you flinched from being needed. from being loved. she understood it came from a place in your past. she never dismissed that pain. but she firmly reminded you that you can’t let your past haunt you forever. that the echoes of what hurt you, the ghosts that whisper you’re unlovable or unsafe, should not define the life you’re living now. she gave you an entire pep talk talking about how you can’t keep holding someone with one hand while the other is clinging to everything that once went wrong. and maybe the love in front of you isn’t perfect, maybe it’s messy and complicated and terrifying but it’s here and it’s real and it could be everything only if you let it.
“look,” yeri cuts through your train of thought,, “mina, doyeon, and ningning will be there too, okay, “you’re the only one that's going to be missing.”
you hesitate.
“he probably won’t even be there,” she adds quickly, “the dream frat most likely has their own party going on tonight.”
you don’t believe her. especially since you knew the dream frat was still under observance from that fight jeno threw.
“i don’t know…,” you say.
“c’mon,” she says, softer this time, “it’s the end of finals, we deserve to let loose and have fun,” she tries, one more time.
you exhale slowly, already halfway convinced.
“...fine.” you mutter, earning a bubbly scream from the other side.
⟢
the music is loud the moment you step through the door, laughter spilling down the hallways, the scent of cheap beer and fruity vape lingering in the air. you’re already regretting the black dress hugging your body, the heels, and the fact that you let yeri talk you into this.
“shots first!,” she yells over the music, dragging you toward the room. you spot familiar faces, mina waving from across the room, doyeon chatting up a pretty girl, ningning locked in an intense game of beer pong with a guy in sunglasses — it’s all the usual chaos. familiar. almost comforting.
you let the noise wash over you, grateful for the distraction until yeri stiffens beside you. you know before you even turn. he’s here — mark lee, leaning casually against the wall across the room, red cup in hand. he’s mid-conversation with a boy you knew, xiaojun – music major, member of the wayv fraternity, also a guy you tutored.
he was laughing, looking relaxed until he saw you.
and everything stops.
almost like you were the only two in the room.
his smile falters. eyes lock with yours. like he didn’t expect you to be here. doesn’t know what to do now that you’re both standing in the same room again.
you forget how to breathe for a second.
“y/n…,” yeri starts, but you shake your head, breaking away from his gaze.
“i’m fine.” you’re not.
but that’s what you tell her, forcing a smile, “let’s get those shots,” you manage to say as you and yeri slip into the kitchen. looking for something to drink. preferably something strong.
⟢
he hadn’t planned on staying long. he hasn’t really been in the mood for parties this whole week. it was too loud, too crowded, too many people and none of them were you.
but chenle, haechan and jisung kept dragging him out night after night, insisting he just needed to “get back out there.”
it hasn’t worked — he wasn’t interested in anyone else, no matter how pretty his friends say they were. all he could think about was you.
he sees you in the spiderman figurines he had in his room. he sees you in the half-eaten pizza box that the boys had ordered, where he could practically hear your laugh. he sees you in his notes. in every damn song that plays. in the stray cat that kept curling up on their lawn. the basketball court. the library. every corner he found himself in is a memory of you.
and sex has been different since that night. not after what you’d shared. not after what it felt like to be wanted like that, to want like that. he didn’t even know if he could go back to casual anymore, especially after feeling intimacy that intense.
so yeah, the plan was simple, he was gonna show up for a bit, make his rounds, say hi to his friends then dip. lock himself up in his room. back to waiting for your call.
he didn’t expect to see you but there you were, walking through the crowd.
and he wished he looked a little better. put a little more effort into his outfit. but truth to be told, he didn't think he had anyone to impress. his light stubble has grown in. he was only in a plain white shirt and black jeans. he didn't even bother styling his hair.
one second, he’s laughing at something xiaojun said, the next the breath gets knocked out of him — you walked in like you didn’t want to be there but still looking so effortlessly beautiful. the walls you’ve been hiding behind standing tall all around you.
every instinct tells him to go to you but his feet stay planted, the grip on his cup tightening.
“dude,” xiaojun says, mid-sentence, eyebrows raising, “are you even listening to me?”
mark doesn’t answer, he watches your eyes sweep the room and then land on him.
everything else disappears.
he doesn’t even hear the music anymore. the crowd becomes nothing more than a blur of faceless shapes, none of them worth noticing.
you still have that look in your eyes. that haunted, guarded look he’s seen too many times. the one that says i want to let you in, but i can’t afford to be hurt again.
you break the contact first, of course you do. he can’t help but continue to stare.
“okay,” xiaojun says suddenly, setting down his drink. “that’s it. i’m introducing you.”
mark’s head snaps toward him, “wait, what?”
“don’t know what happened to you, man but you’ve clearly lost your game,” his friend shrugs, already grabbing mark by the sleeve, “i got this. stop being a pussy, i’ll be your wingman.”
mark resists, suddenly very aware of his surroundings, planting his feet, “no…xiaojun, wait, you don’t understand–”
“she’s super chill,” xiaojun interrupts confidently, “smart as hell, kind of terrifying at first glance but definitely nice. i got you, don’t worry.”
“xiaojun…seriously–” mark hisses, digging his heels in, heart pounding in panic now, “we already…we know each other.”
but xiaojun didn’t hear him. too excited. too focused at playing matchmaker and hauling him toward the kitchen. “you can thank me later,” he grins, “just let me cook.”
mark’s stomach sinks. his hands are clammy. he’s seconds away from bolting. and then you turn around, cup in hand, mid-sip, just as xiaojun barrels into the kitchen with mark reluctantly in tow.
“y/n!,” xiaojun calls cheerfully. mark looks like he’s been dragged into hell itself, his eyes sending you an apology and you can’t help the way your brows lift.
“oh my god,” you whisper under your breath, choking on your drink and mark has to physically stop himself from reaching out to check if you are okay. you curse the fact that you let yeri leave you alone just a few seconds ago.
xiaojun beams, “i want you to meet my friend! this is mark. mark this is y/n..she used to tutor me back in the day. super scary, very smart,” you can’t help but raise a brow at his description, “anyway, you two should totally talk,” he wiggles his eyebrows.
mark gives you a look like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. his voice comes out tight, strained, like it hurts to speak, “hey.”
you glance at mark. he glances at you. and somehow, without saying anything, you both decide to play along.
“nice to meet you,” you say coolly, extending a hand like you haven’t seen every inch of him in moments you’re trying very hard to forget.
mark straightens up, his face schooled into a neutral smile. he takes your hand and his touch lingers just a little too long, bringing up feelings you tried so hard to push away, “same here.”
xiaojun beams, totally buying it, “see? told you i got you,” he whispers, making you quip a brow.
mark doesn’t look away from you, “so…you used to tutor xiaojun?”
you nod, keeping your expression composed, “yeah, freshman year. he was failing basic algebra.”
xiaojun gasps in mock offence, “i had a C-”
“which is failing,” you shoot back without missing a beat.
mark chuckles under his breath, eyes crinkling, “sounds like you were a tough tutor.”
“that depends on who i’m tutoring,” you say, like you didn’t spend the past month tutoring him.
xiaojun claps his hands together, clearly pleased with himself, “this is going great. i’m so good at at this. i should charge people.”
“oh yeah,” mark says, playing along, nodding solemnly. “you should definitely monetize your matchmaking business.”
“maybe i will!,” xiaojun grins, painstakingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension thickening between you two, “anyway, i’m gonna go and leave you two alone. you guys get to know each other. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!,” he winks and disappears back into the party.
and just like that, the mask drops. the space between you crackling.
mark raises an eyebrow, “nice to meet you, huh?”
you shrug, “you started it.”
he smirks faintly, “you didn’t have to shake my hand like we were at a networking event.”
“well, you didn’t have to look so charmed by it,” you shoot back and for a second it all feels too normal. just two friends caught in their playful banter.
⟢
ᓚᘏᗢ now.
“it’s good to see you,” he says, a little quieter now, smirk fading just slightly. you falter at that but instead of running, instead of deflecting, you hold his gaze.
“so,” you say, attempting a half-smile, “do you come here often, mark?”
he chuckles but the sound fades quickly. the amusement doesn’t last in his eyes. you were doing it again. masking your feelings behind a joke. trying to find an out. trying to stall the inevitable — and he stopped playing this game a long time ago. has stopped holding back.
“you didn’t call.”
your smile drops, “mark–,”
“that night,” he cuts in softly, but there’s something raw under his voice now, “i woke up and you were gone.”
the kitchen feels smaller. the party noise beyond the door fades to a muffled hum.
“i didn’t know what to say,” you murmur, voice almost lost under the thump of bass in the other room.
“you didn’t have to say anything,” he says, “i just wanted you to stay.”
you look away but mark steps forward. not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him.
“i kept checking my phone,” he goes on, “every morning when i wake up, every night before i go to bed. i watched you read my messages and i thought maybe you just needed time.”
“—i waited,” he continues, voice shaking now, “i left food by your door, i didn’t even care if you didn’t text back, i just wanted you to know i’m still here.”
you press your lips together, holding everything in.
“i didn’t want that night to end,” he goes on, quieter now, “and maybe i was stupid for thinking you felt the same way but–”
he breathes in, eyes locking onto yours. you try to tell him to stop but your voice betrays you. and mark could no longer hold back the words he’s been wanting to say.
“i fell in love with you.”
your heart stutters. that one phrase making you want to run.
“and i’m still in love with you,” he finishes, like a final breath. like he’s cutting himself open and bleeding honesty, the words slamming into your chest.
“we only had two rules, mark,” you managed to whisper, voice quiet and broken.
mark takes a shaky step closer, heart in his throat, “tell me you don’t feel it then,” he said quietly. his voice wasn’t angry, just tired, broken, desperate.
“look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me…that you don’t feel anything when i look at you like this and i’ll stop. i’ll leave you alone.”
you freeze. you didn’t answer right away. because you did feel it — you felt it in your chest, in your stomach, in the way the world always seemed to go a little quieter when he was around. you feel it in the ache that never went away after that night. you feel it in the way he says your name like it’s something holy. but that truth was too dangerous. too real.
so you hardened your voice, you shove it so far down you almost believe the lie yourself.
“i don’t feel it.”
you looked him dead in the eye, even though it nearly broke you. mark’s face falls but you don’t stop there. you lift your chin, meeting his gaze and finally twisting the knife in both of you.
“i don’t love you.”
his face didn’t crumble. didn’t twist in pain. he just stilled – silent, hollow stillness. the words knocking the breath from his lungs in one brutal blow. his eyes search your face like he’s trying to find a hole in your armor – something to tell him you don’t mean it.
you walked away, leaving him in the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd before he can see the way your hand trembles. before he can see the way your heart is breaking too. every step away from him felt heavier than the last. your throat felt like it was strangling your heartbeat. every breath scraped your ribs like regret trying to crawl out of your chest.
you told yourself not to look back. not to care. this is for the better. he deserves someone better. someone who knew what they wanted. someone who can give him the love he has to give without flinching.
you did the right thing. for the both of you.
you ignore your friend’s calls. focused only on trying to get as far away from this place as possible. and yet, as you passed through the living room, something ridiculous stopped you cold — someone was messing with a money gun. dozens of dollar bills floating all around you, spinning through the air like confetti in slow motion. you scoffed before you could stop yourself, bitter and breathless at the irony.
you pushed forward anyway, trying to control your tears, making your way through the bodies and out into the front lawn. you manage to make it a couple feet away.
but then…fingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your wrist, turning you towards his tear-filled eyes as he caught up to you, breathless.
“what are you so afraid of?” mark asked, eyes wide, wild with a mixture of hope and desperation.
“what is it that terrifies you so much you’d rather lie to my face than admit what we have?”
his words cracked something open inside you. that was it. the last of your resolve breaking apart. your defenses collapsed.
“you, mark!,” your voice broke, full of too many emotions you could no longer control, “i’m afraid of you!”
he blinked, startled. you didn’t let the silence catch up.
“i’m afraid of what you make me feel,” you said, voice unraveling.
“i’m afraid because i’m in love with you too. and i don’t want to be!”
the tears came fast and hot but you no longer cared about the strong front you’ve been trying to keep up.
“—because the last time i fell in love, it destroyed me. i gave everything to someone who promised they’d stay and they left. and i had to build myself back up from nothing and i swore i’d never let myself feel like that again.”
mark took a slow step closer. like he was approaching something sacred.
“i don’t want to become her again,” you choked out, “the girl who wakes up wondering if today is the day everything falls apart. the one who clings too tightly. the one who ruins everything because she wants too much.”
“you’re not her anymore,” he said softly, like he was holding your heart in his hands., “you’re stronger now. you know who you are. and if things fall apart,” his voice cracked, his own tears falling, “i’ll still be there, i’m not going to leave you.”
you shook your head, tears falling freely, “you don't know that! what if i mess it up? what if i’m too much?”
“then i’ll stay anyway,” he said, voice trembling with conviction, “i’ll stay and remind you every single time that you're not too much. that you’re worth loving.”
you looked up at him, ready to break again but his words make you freeze, “and i’m scared too.”
mark swallowed hard.
“i’ve never been in love before,” he said. “not like this. not even close and i don’t know what i’m doing. i’m scared i’ll say the wrong thing. that i’ll mess this up. that i’ll love you too much or not enough or in the wrong way”
he let out a shaky breath, gaze locked on yours.
“but i’m willing to learn. i'm willing to fall. because i'm scared of losing you the most and i’d rather be scared with you than go my whole life without you in it…without trying.”
his eyes bored into yours, wide and unguarded, filled with that same fear you’d been carrying. you realized then that you weren't so different. just two souls wanting to love and be loved, both terrified of what it might cost.
and if he was brave enough to jump, you weren’t going to let him fall alone — with that, the last wall inside you crumbled and you reached for him.
mark pulls you into his arms like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. there, under the stars and distant music, you clung to him, allowing yourself to want him. your chest heaved against his, tears soaking into his t-shirt. and still, he held you tighter.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “i’m just…i’m so scared.”
“i know,” he murmured back, “it’s okay. i’m here.”
he rocked you gently like your pain had a rhythm only he understood. he didn’t know what else to do but hold you.
eventually your tears slowed. your breathing evened out. your fingers loosened from their desperate grip. you stayed in his arms a moment longer, heart pressed into his chest. committing it to memory like it was a song you never wanted to forget.
then you pull back, just enough to look up at him. your lashes were damp, eyes still glassy, “i meant it,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i love you.”
his eyes searched yours, not for doubt, but for the truth. and when he found it, unguarded, soft, scared, real, his hold on your waist tightens just a tiny bit like he couldn’t believe this was real and not something he’d dreamed up in all the nights he spent missing you.
mark leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you don’t. his lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, then deeper, steadier, like exhaling after holding his breath for years. you kissed him back like it was the only thing you knew how to do — your heart had spent so long trying to run away from this very feeling and now it was collapsing into it with both arms wide open.
no more running. just you and him and the promise of something real. not something that had an expiration date marked by final exams and end of sessions.
he smiled against your lips. you pulled away, the smallest, tearful laugh catching in your throat.
“so…what do we do now?,” you asked, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, though your voice was still soft. still fragile from everything it had admitted. and your eyes only had room for his reflection.
mark raised a hand, thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek, “well,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “i would love to take you out on a date.”
and this time, when you smiled…it felt like the beginning.
ᓚᘏᗢ the next day.
mark knocks at your door at exactly 6:00P.M. a little more dressed up than usual, his face freshly shaved, hair styled perfectly, a bouquet of white roses behind his back.
you open the door and his breath catches. the red dress you're wearing stops just above your knees, hugging your curves in all the right places. its bold and subtle all at once, elegant neckline, bare shoulders.
you see the shift in his expression instantly, eyes widening, lips parting slightly.
“kitten,” he breathes out, recovering just enough to let a smirk tug on his lips “are you trying to cancel our date?”
your brows furrow in amusement, “what?”
he lets out a soft laugh, eyes still tracing the length of you. “how do you expect me to not want to have my hands all over you until this is off?” he says, a hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently against him, already losing his inner battle.
a playful smirk appears on your lips, “hey, buy a girl dinner first,” you say, pressing your palm to his chest to push him back, just a little.
he chuckles, deep and warm, eyes twinkling as he finally brings the bouquet around “for you, kitten.”
you take the flowers with a soft, surprised smile “these are beautiful mark, thank you,” you say quietly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, just a quick one, before slipping back into your apartment. he stays at the door, watching as you make yourself into the kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. you rummage through your drawers for the vase you rarely use, dusting it off before filling it with water. carefully, you begin arranging the flowers on your coffee table. mark steps inside, closing the door behind him. his arms wrapping around your waist in a back hug.
“you ready?,” he murmurs, a kiss brushing the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.
“mhm,” you smile, reaching down to pat his hand before lacing your fingers with his. his grip is warm, sure. he leads you to the door, locking it behind you as you both step out of your apartment.
“this is kinda weird,” he chuckles as you walk towards his car.
“what? holding my hand,” you say, about to pull your hand away only for his grip to tighten.
“i didn’t say it was bad,” he says quickly, pulling you closer, “i’ve just never held hands with my girlfriend before.”
you chuckle, some things never change.
“oh, i didn’t know i was your girlfriend now?,” you smirk, teasing, a brow raising.
his smile instantly drops, “please say sike,” he mutters, suddenly serious. you burst into laughter and the tension in his shoulder melts. he watches you in awe, like your laugh could break every bone in his body and he’d still ask to hear it again. a smile taking over his features.
“sike,” you say sweetly just as he pokes your side, making you jump. he opens the passenger door for you with a smug look and you slide inside, cheeks warm, heart racing.
mark planned the most romantic, classic first date imaginable. like something ripped right out of a movie montage. candlelight dinner, soft jazz humming in the background and a corner table in a quiet, upscale restaurant where the lighting was dim and golden, casting everything in a dreamy glow. the flicker of the candle between you danced in his eyes, making him look warmer, softer than usual. the low murmur of other diners fading into the background. he pulled out your chair for you like a real gentleman. you ordered your food, sat across from each other, feet brushing beneath the table, half accidental, half deliberated. it was playful and sweet. he smiled every time it happened like he was trying to make you blush without saying a word. and it worked — you couldn’t remember the last time a date felt this intentional, this thoughtfully put together. like someone had wanted to impress you.
“wow, you really did your research, huh?,” you tease him, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk tugging at your lips.
“only the best for my girl,” he winks. you rolled your eyes at the line but the flutter in your chest betrayed you.
the food arrived and for a while you just existed in the moment. complimenting the dishes, laughing about how his plate looked fancier but yours tasted better. he slid a perfectly sliced piece of steak onto your plate without you asking and you absentmindedly twirled a forkful of pasta and held it out to him like it was second nature. like it was something you’ve been doing for years.
then halfway through the meal, mark leans in a little. his elbow resting on the table, chin in hand like he couldn’t help but watch you.
“i don’t know enough about you,” he says suddenly.
you looked up, caught mid-chew and more caught off-guard, “you’ve literally seen me naked, i think you’re doing fine.”
mark laughed — that warm, boyish sound that always cracked you open a little more than you liked to admit. he leaned back slightly, shaking his head, “yeah but i mean know you. like the little things. the stuff people forget to ask but matters more than they think.”
you blinked, slowly setting your fork down, “ok…what do you want to know?”
he lights up like a kid on christmas day, “what’s your favorite color?”
“really, mark?” you laughed, because of all the things he could’ve asked, it was a question as simple as that.
“hey! it’s important especially since i want to buy you gifts,” he shrugs, taking a bite out of his (your) pasta.
you rolled your eyes, smiling anyway “okay. pink.”
mark blinked, surprised. he never would’ve guessed. “pink?”
“mhm,” you said, spearing a bite of the salad in between you, “not like neon pink though but soft pink.”
“didn’t see that coming,” he said grinning. “but it kinda fits…you act all tough but you’re secretly a softie.”
you narrowed your eyes, “careful.”
“just saying,” he chuckled, reaching for his drink.
“alright,” you said, pointing your fork at him, “your turn, favorite color?”
“blue.”
you tilted your head, chewing thoughtfully, a playful grin on your face, “blue because it’s the color of the sky?”
he grinned, “that was the reason…at first,” he said, voice softening, “then you walked up to me, wearing a soft blue sundress during freshman year and the reason changed.”
your fork froze halfway to your mouth. for a second, the air felt heavier, quieter, like the words had rearranged the molecules around you. your eyes widen a little, lips parting as your expression falters between surprise and amusement.
“you remembered what i was wearing?,” you ask in pure disbelief.
“how could i forget?,” he shrugs like he didn’t just confess something that would stay with you for the rest of your life.
“wait…are you saying you’ve had a crush on me since freshman year?,” you asked, your tone teasing.
mark rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning, “i may have had a tiny crush on you back then,” he admits. the smile on your face growing with every second.
the rest of your evening unfolded like a dream you didn’t want to wake from. full of quiet laughter, sharing of favorites and the reason behind them. every answer was like turning a page, revealing another layer neither of you had taken time to read before. between conversation, his hand would find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there. he’d brush your knuckles with his thumb, every movement gentle, deliberate. and every now and then, he’d lean over and kiss you. soft, unhurried kisses that made your skin hum and your stomach flip.
by the time you slid back into his car, the air between you was warm and charged, not with tension but with something more open, more vulnerable. he let you have the aux, learning your favorite songs on the ride back. both of you singing along, sometimes out of tune, sometimes laughing too hard. his hand was in yours the whole drive home. you kissed at stop lights. playful pecks that turned into lingering moments. the city moved around you, but you both felt disconnected. stuck in your own world with a population of two.
when he finally pulled up to your place, you were still laughing about something stupid he’d said. and then it got quiet. the kind of the quiet that meant something more. mark walked you to your door, hand still wrapped around yours like he couldn’t let go.
“tonight was really fun,” you said softly , your arm looped around his neck, fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair.
“yeah?,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, lingering there for a beat, “would you say i’m you know…boyfriend material?,” he teased, smirking against your skin.
you huffed a laugh, playfully nudging him with your shoulder, “that was so bad.”
he tilts his head to look at your properly, the mischief fading into something gentler, more sincere, “i had the best time.”
you met his gaze, leaning up to kiss him – slow and sweet. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss for a heartbeat before you pulled back, breathless but smiling.
“goodnight, mark,” you whispered, not quite ready for the night to end.
“goodnight kitten,” he said just as softly.
you slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. but your skin still buzzed with his touch, lips still tingling with the memory of his kiss. you leaned against the door, eyes closed, heart racing as the entire night replays in your mind.
outside, mark stares at your door, already missing your presence. he started to bring his fist up for a knock, but then the door opened. again.
he blinked, startled.
you were standing there, eyes already locked on his. you didn’t say a word. neither did he.
because in the next second, he crossed the threshold and kissed you – hard, fast and real. all the restraint of the evening gave way to need. he kicked the door shut behind him, hand blindly finding the lock as his other arm wound around your waist.
you make the familiar steps to your bedroom, lips never leaving his, a quiet gasp escaping you when he lifted you slightly, walking you backward until your knees hit the bed.
and when you made love, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. it was slow, tender. his hands memorized you all over again. his lips marked every inch of your skin. you whispered his name like it meant something new now. he held you like he never wanted to stop.
the morning came and you were still there, wrapped tightly around his arms. body molded perfectly against his like you were always meant to fit there. fingers interlaced like your hands had made a silent promise sometime in the night to never part. mark could see the pink and purple marks blooming where his lips and hands had wandered. he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest — you looked peaceful, like all the weight you usually carried had melted away in the dark, if only for a little while. and in that quiet moment, with the world still hushed around you, he knows that it’s all worth it.
and if he had to do it all over again – the mistakes, the heartache, the waiting. he would. every single time, without hesitation, if it always leads him back to this. back to you. the only thing he’s ever been sure of.
ᓚᘏᗢ
loving mark made you realize that love didn’t have to be a fantasy. it wasn’t all sunshines and rainbows and happily ever afters. but it also wasn’t terrible, screaming at each other at 3am, being left behind on the kitchen floor, crying your eyes out.
it didn’t happen overnight either. there was still fear lingering in the back of your head. but this time you don’t let it take control. this time you don’t let it overpower.
because love with mark is staying, even when you were scared. especially when you were scared. it was comfort and safety. the kind that wrapped around your heart and told you it was okay to let your guard down. it was peace. the kind that didn’t demand you to be anything other than what you were. it was someone showing up at your apartment with your favorite snacks, settling in beside you on the couch while a romcom played and cramps left you curled under a blanket. no pressure to talk. just presence. it’s laughing at terrible jokes until your stomach hurt. arguing about which spiderman was the best. agreeing to disagree, even if you were clearly right. it was fighting over which greasy takeout to get and pretending to be annoyed when he ordered your favorite anyway. it was celebrating the happy moments, the sad moments and everything in between. it’s sticking around when things got hard. still choosing each other when the weight of the world made everything feel heavy. it was learning each other and unlearning old patterns. being patient. building something new, one honest conversation at a time. it was asking, “do you want advice or do you just want me to listen?” it was hearing the answer and respecting it.
it wasn’t about fixing each other or needing someone to fill a space inside you. it was about wanting to be there. it was about choosing to stay again and again and again.
𓏲 the end.
-
18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content
bonus: mark x kitten coded -> video one, video two, video three
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an: and 3/7 is done! i hit the 1000 text block limit thing on here and it was awful. it’s not my fault they’re both yappers and i write way too much when mark is involved! i hope i was still able to convey the tension and longing in those long ass paragraphs >.< …. anyways, this was supposed to end the moment she walked away but i couldn’t do it! i had to give mark a happy ending, he deserves it!. kitten was so hard to write like why am i writing a character with past trauma and real, raw, emotions that are hitting too close to home… this is supposed to be a fun, silly rom-com. but i hope you liked her! i hope you liked them. thank you for reading! <3
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Words : 600+
Go go juice @sincerelyneo
A week ago, you never imagined you’d be here—sitting in a random bar on a Tuesday night. But a week ago, you didn’t know your boyfriend was cheating. A week ago, you weren’t single. A week ago, you had no reason to be ordering your sixth drink—or to be drunk dialing your best friend’s brother.
jaemin x fem!reader
Words : 7.1k
Smut / mdni
Captain sparkle fingers revives me from the dead @choerrypuffs
summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.
son of apollo!jaemin x daughter of hades!reader
Words 13.2k
Quest for romance @hyuckles-chuckles
you and na jaemin have been friends since the very first day you arrived at camp. but with him being a son of aphrodite he’s obviously one of the best looking people at camp and you develop a crush on him, but little did you know he also had a crush on you.
son of aphrodite!na jaemin x daughter of hephaestus!reader
Words : 4.9k
Team spirit @vnti-vnxiety
Clingy boyfriend Jaemin joins the cheer team to get closer to his girlfriend. You aren’t happy because you know he only joined to fuck you. He swears he didn't join for that reason (he did)
Jaemin x cheerleader! Reader
Words : 8.5k
Smut / mdni
Brat @iceonneo
the sexual tension has gotten frustrating enough, high time they do something about it. and yes they were roommates!
jaemin x fem! reader
Words : 1.6k
Smut / mdni
Teddy bear @jungaji
struggling with recurring nightmares, jeno suggests an app called "teddy bear," a sleep bot designed to offer comfort. over the course of a few nights, the bot’s messages start to feel increasingly familiar and seem to echo the warmth and understanding of someone who knows you deeply. as you connect with the bot, you uncover a touching secret that ultimately helps you find the peace you've been searching for.
na jaemin x gn!reader feat. lee jeno & lee donghyuck
Smau
Personal fav !
Backseat chronicles @notnctu
There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back.
fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin
Words : 8.5k
Smut / mdni
Diet Pepsi @sincerelyneo
Jeno has one rule — his little sister is not allowed at street races. Jaemin knows this, and still, he can’t help but feel a thrill when he spots you sneaking out to watch him race. That is, until he sees you with another guy, and suddenly, he’s all in favor of Jeno’s rule. And he’s pretty sure that rule also means he should intervene and give you a ride home.
jaemin x virgin fem!reader
Words : 5.6k
Smut / mdni
Slytherin jaemin @jenosbliss
fem! ravenclaw reader x slytherin jaemin
Words : 1.2k
Enemies to lover au
____
Zhong Chenle
Stop posting about BALLER @winwintea
chenle loves basketball more than you. unfortunately.
boyfriend!zhong chenle x reader
Words : 1.3k
Out of time @johnnysuhbmarine
You'd be lying if you said feelings weren't caught within the thirteen years of friendship you had with Chenle, but even when you both wanted to be more, you agreed to shut any idea of it down - his future marriage was already arranged as part of a business deal, there was no point setting your hearts up for breaking. So, why is he on your doorstep begging for a chance just three months before he has to go back to China?
Words : 16.3k
Loaded @featjunranghae
in which a desperate joke about needing a sugar daddy accidentally manifests a millionaire classmate who takes his new role very seriously.
Smau
Playing dirty @hyuckiefluff
you’re tired of chenle ditching you for basketball practice, so you do what any rational girlfriend would do—show up to his practice in a slutty version of his team’s uniform. turns out you’re kind of good at basketball. turns out chenle can’t handle watching his teammates ogle the love of his life. turns out the locker room has a lock for a reason.
basketball captain! chenle x fashion major! fem.reader
Words : 4k
Smut / mdni
Training wheels @sincerelyneo
When your jerk of a boyfriend dumps you for being a virgin, the last thing you expected was to find comfort in your roommate, Chenle. But here you are, and now you're asking him to take your virginity…
chenle x fem!reade
Words : 4.9k
Smut / mdni
Once bitten , twice shy @onmyneo
… in which yn asks chenle to be her boyfriend for the night
best friend!chenle x fem!reader
Smau
When did you get hot ? @sincerelyneo
Your best friend’s kid brother is getting married—and his best man just so happens to be ridiculously sexy. Wait. Hold on. Is that Zhong Chenle? When the hell did he get hot?
chenle x fem!reader
Words : 7.3k
Smut / mdni
aita for hooking up with a random man i met at the club while i was in a fight with my boyfriend? @pinkynana
Your boyfriend always told you that he hated girls at the club, saying that they were easier than prostitutes and such. Which drove you to the decision to go to a club after your hundredth fight with him, just to provoke him. It was never your intention to be in another man’s arms that night.
Words : 1.7k
Smut / mdni
Business proposal @bbina
things aren't going as planned the way you thought it was going to be. especially the part where you find yourself falling in love with your own boss– which was definitely not part of the agreed proposal.
Smau
My first and last @withlovemark
zhong chenle, the lowkey fuckboy, captain of the basketball team, doesn’t believe in romance. flowers? chocolates? handwritten letters? ew. too cheesy. but he can’t seem to shake this crazy girl off of him so he goes to you, his best friend, cheerleading captain, for help. will you be his fake girlfriend? sure. the catch? it has to be believable so for the first time in his life he buys the flowers and the chocolate and writes the handwritten letters.
bff! chenle x fake gf! reader
Words : 31k
Smut / mdni
Personal fav !
The only one @hyuckles-chuckles
being the only child of the big 3 was always tough for zhong chenle, so you, being his best friend, was always there to comfort him. but then one day out of the blue, he just started ignoring you, and you would like to know why.
son of poseidon!zhong chenle x daughter of demeter!reader
Words : 5.1k
____
Park Jisung
Stolen moments @maunologue
he thought bringing his girlfriend to practice meant more time with her, until his members stole the spotlight.
park jisung x female reader
Words : 894
Obsession @winnietheboos
park jisung is the nation’s (secret) newest boxing obsession. hushed whispers, feared stares and his forgotten bloodied bandages left in the ring after every match. you're the girl living in the apartment next door because you can barely afford anything better while finishing your degree, and you can't help but notice the boy who comes home bloody and bruised every night. so what do you do? you follow him.
Words : 16.9k
Kiss it away @maunologue
a drunk and clingy jisung is brought home after their tour celebration, leaving his girlfriend to soothe him, clean up his mess, and kiss it all away.
park jisung x female reader
Words : 731
Tangerine love (favorite) @neocitycafe
You like tangerines. Jisung likes you. Someone is hiding citrus fruit in your apartment.
Finals are brutal. Winter is cold. And you’re not ready to admit that you already know who it is.
Words : 1.5k
7 minutes in heaven @heyjwi
you decided to attend your campus’ halloween party in hopes of seeing your crush, jisung. one thing leads to another and you both end up sweaty and breathless, locked in a closet..
crush!jisung x fem!reader
Smut / mdni
Haunt me , baby ! @ukiyoexo
when you see a ghost, you’re supposed to be scared right? yeah, that’s what jisung thought too until he met you.
a night spent in boredom leads you to lighting random candles and attempting to summon a ghost. you never expected it to work — or for the spirit to be so cute.
Words : 5,2+
Personal fav !
Dragon heart @kacchand-archive
there’s a certain charm to things people say when drunk, and when you said you wanted to be the ultimate dragon enchantress of all lands, you never thought it would come true. but with the help of a little magic, and a lot of uncontrollable teenage emotions, anything can happen.
and in this case, even dragons can come to life out of nothing. you just hope you don’t get expelled when Dumbledore finds it hidden in the forbidden forrest.
or the story in which Jisung and his overpowering feelings for you create an all new drunken mistake; one that breathes fire.
Hogwarts / Harry Potter au
Words : 4.5k
Travel buddies @hyuckles-chuckles
you were minding your own business when you heard a disturbance not that far from you, so you investigate it. you learn that you found a new demigod, park jisung, so in the moment you decide to take him to camp in the tiny car your mom got for you for emergencies, the only problem was is that camp was 840 miles away.
son of hermes!park jisung x daughter of aphrodite!reader
Demigods / Percy Jackson au
Words : 5.2k
Personal fav !
My Minecraft boyfriend @suhnandmoon
a joke tweet about your boyfriend on minecraft from when you were in middle school ends up reaching the boy in question and oh no- he's hot.. this sudden reunion with park jisung was completely unexpected for multiple parties. will this old romance rekindle, or was it just meant to stay in the past?
park jisung x fem!reader
Smau
Two dumb virgins @luvyeni
you wanted to lose it . he was tired of being made fun by his friends. both of you thinking he’d pull out fast enough… but what can you expect from two stupid virgins ? …
SYNOPSIS: Lee Jeno is in desperate need of release. The problem is he’s not exactly stuck on the whole groupie concept, that’s where you come in. His bartender friend who’s a struggling writer that’s in need of some real inspiration. The suggestion is simple, friends with benefits. The only catch is, don’t fall in love, which should be easy considering the two of you have no intention of ever falling in love anyway.
WORD COUNT: 28k
WARNINGS: humor, fluff, angst (if you squint), smut (MDNI), public sex (does in a car count), unprotected sex (pls wrap it up), biting, fingering, oral (f!recieving), light sub/dom play, cum eating, mutual masterbation, these two are very dense, they’re also extremely silly
BEFORE YOU READ: reading the first story isn’t necessary but there are many appearances and references to things in the first one so to better understand read Francis Forever!
NOTES: I’m sooo sorry about the delay for this one but it’s here and instead of posting on friday i decided why not now! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing!!
explore the 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑬𝑺 here!
spotify playlist that helped inspire me while writing can be found here
Part One: Early Spring
Sugar, we’re going down
☆ 📚 ☆
You stood in the center of the familiar crowded office, your lip in between your teeth as a sort of calming method. It was complete silence safe for the ticking of the clock that crescendoed with every second, building up your anticipation.
It was half past three which meant that if you were lucky, you’d have time to arrive home for a quick celebration with your cat, Meowy, before getting ready for your shift later tonight. You were confident this time, there were only so many mistakes you could’ve made after about ten different overviews of the same work.
The cough along with the sound of glasses hitting the table was enough for you to concede that the read through was complete. You were about to speak when the cherry haired woman spoke.
“No.”
Your feet would’ve collapsed into themselves if it wasn’t for the chair in front of you that your hands grasped at for dear life. You were sure she could hear the squeak of your last bit of humanity slipping away.
“I must end it all,” your head shakes, refusing to meet the eyes of your friend, Shuhua.
She sighs, the scene in front of her reminiscent of the past few times you had asked her to read over your work. “Don’t be dramatic, get up.”
You stood up straight again, her soft nod a quiet way of telling you to take a seat. Ever since you were young you’d wanted to become a writer, and luckily enough working as a Bartender for one of the city's most frequented exclusive bars had its perks. You met Shuhua around the first month of working there, having built a friendship ever since she ordered a dirty martini. She was the owner of one of the biggest Publishing companies, and was very willing to help accomplish your dream.
Only that took way more effort than you ever thought possible. Shuhua was very confident in your work, the only problem was that she thought you weren’t being authentic enough. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to, it’s just that sometimes work dragged on and took most of your energy for the day, and by the time you met the deadline, your work came out rushed in areas.
“Y/N,” Shuhua starts, your voice ringing out and cutting her off before she could continue.
“It’s the Amusement Park scene right? I was half asleep when I wrote it that morning and I should’ve read over it again before printing it out.” You spit out, words tangled together because unfortunately you were always one to grow chatty when nervous.
“That’s not the problem,” Shuhua answers flatly. Your brows furrow. “Chapter thirty two.”
You flushed red, of course you knew what part that was. Not exactly because of it being your own writing, you could forget your own name if it weren’t for your nametag, but because it was the scene you dreaded most when you went over the draft.
Smut scene, not exactly your forte.
“Y/N, I mean this with all uttermost respect, are you even trying?” She flips open the book onto the page in question. “He kisses me. Very nicely.” She reads the words you wrote aloud and you could feel yourself sinking into the seat with every next sentence.
“I mean seriously,” She tosses the book down once again, “Is there a reason your skills become equivalent to that of a six year old when you write a smut scene?”
“I’d be concerned if a six year old was writing that.”
“You know what I mean,” She sighs, “Look Y/N I mean this as a friend, but even more as a publisher, I know you can do better than this. The rest of the novel is proof of that.”
You smile at the compliment. That means she at least liked the majority of the story.
“Wipe that smile off of your face,” You frown again. “Tell me, what’s the problem? You can’t exactly have a smut book without any of the smut.”
It wasn’t that you weren’t trying to write smut, it had been the best way to navigate the built up emotions from both characters who seemingly hated each other before that, it was necessary. You hadn’t taken into account just how lacking you were in that department until you sat at four am, your computer brightness at full.
“The problem might be me,” You confess. “It’s not like I have much experience to base anything off of.”
Shuhua sighs, “No, that’s not your fault, some men don’t exactly offer the best services when it comes to getting off.” She meant that. It had been the topic of the first conversation you both shared after about three dirty martinis.
“Guess it doesn’t help that the closest I've been to touching a man’s body in a year is brushing hands with the DreamCafe cashier the other day.”
Shuhua’s gaze is pitiful, “Y/N, are you serious?” You nod. “God this is going to end up published five years from now if we keep up this pace.”
You purse your lips, not exactly knowing how to respond. Your list of experiences was about the size of a quick shopping list, and it wasn’t like you were against the idea of sex either, you just were a bit too busy to just go around looking for the first attractive man in your area. Most of the guys around were ugly too, and if they weren’t then they were clients at your workplace, which meant it was a no-go.
The last thing you needed was to bump into a one night stand asking for a shot of whiskey. Besides you’d been hit on enough at your job to know that most men were way too easy, and something about that just grossed you out. Your friend's eyes brighten, an idea taking place in her mind that forms into a smirk on her face.
“What?” You ask, looking around the room as if it wasn’t just the two of you in there.
“I say this with all of my heart,” she raises a brow, “if you want a good story, you have got to get laid.”
You chuckle nervously, standing up and wiping off your pants. “No thank you!”
“Nope Y/N I’m serious,” She raises her voice slightly, she always did this with other clients but when it was directed to you it was a bit scary. “Consider it. It might get your creative juices flowing.”
“I don’t really want to think about any juices right now.”
Shuhua rolls her eyes, picking up your paper and reaching forward to pass it to you. “You have amazing skill Y/N, I am not at all doubtful of that, but I think that this could help you sort things out better. If you don’t want to of course you don’t have to, but if that’s the case then I’d consider publishing this without the smut scenes.”
You were barely out of the door when you began contemplating her suggestion. The smut scene was necessary. There was zero way that you were going to publish the book without it, it would feel like you gave up if you did.
You groaned loudly, the stares from the workers occupying the same elevator going unfazed with how deep in thought you were. Maybe Shuhua was right? Maybe hooking up with someone would make things easier for you as a writer. You always get the best inspiration when you force yourself to explore new things.
The only issue now was who would be your pick? The last thing you needed was to join a dating app and end up meeting a serial killer, you saw that in a movie once. Time felt like a ticking bomb now. If you wanted this book done by the end of the year, you had to do something about your problem, and you had to do it immediately.
☆ 🎸☆
The subtle bed squeaks and giggles were something Jeno usually had zero problem sleeping through, after all for a good few years he was the main person causing those noises. Countless hookups and one night stands he brought back to the shared apartment that he thought didn’t matter much anyway because the other guys were just as loud as he was, except for Jisung and Mark, and because it’s not like any of the girls they saw were here to stay.
He was regretful now as he laid in bed, his pillow squeezed tight around his ears to try and tune out the rest of the world from outside his bedroom door. Now the problem was simple, he was growing a bit more frustrated the past weeks. The rise of Oblivion was still subtle, but he wasn’t a stranger to the city anymore.
And most would assume that was the best part of their growing fame but really it was the opposite. Jeno never really got the whole Groupie thing, sure he tried it a few times but really revisiting the same face every night wasn’t his style. Usually because it ended up causing assumptions to be made. Like your balls deep in a girl four times out of a week and suddenly she thinks that means that she can stay over and make you dinner, or call you baby and make arrangements to introduce you to her friends.
Jeno shuddered, the memory of Lia making him cringe. He had been in a dry spell ever since. It wasn’t so bad at first, Jeno was an introvert by nature so unless he was tagging along with Donghyuck and Jaemin at their club escapes he was pretty content staying home and hoping on league. But lately he felt like he was really going to go insane, it didn’t help that every other night there were enough sounds he was shocked there hadn’t been any noise complaints.
Jaemin had suggested he just cave in, let the groupies run their course explaining that not all of them really searched for something more. Jeno declined. Jaemin wasn’t much of a convincing person when he had a stalker problem not even three months ago.
But now as he hopes that the pillow on his face can cut off enough of the oxygen in his body to have him pass out for at least a couple of hours so he wouldn’t have to hear the monstrosities happening outside, he thinks maybe it would’ve been better if he did have a hookup he could meet up with right about now just to save his eardrums.
He decided for the next best option. Going on a walk and making his grand escape hopefully before the funny business got any louder. He shoved off the pillow, pulling up his phone to check the time. Right on schedule.
Jeno tried to open and close the door quietly enough to make his presence unknown, but unfortunately the great squeak from the hinges had betrayed him. Causing both his friend, Jisung, and Jisung’s girlfriend to shoot up from where they sat very comfortably on one another on the couch, in a position that made Jeno wish his vision was worse than it already was.
“I- Jeno! When did you get here?” Jisung stuttered, his cheeks growing red by the second.
“Never left,” Jeno shrugged, “sup Darling.”
The girl only smiled tightly, refusing to meet his eyes after he’d caught the two in a compromising position. Jisung scowled, not a fan of how popular the nickname had become within the group of guys since he’s the one that created it in the first place. There was no use in arguing against it now though, not when their fans had already began to implement the nickname themselves.
“Y’know if you’re going to fuck it would probably be better not to on the couch, it’s kind of a general rule.” One that Jeno could attest to never breaking.
“We weren’t going to–“ Jisung’s brows furrowed in annoyance? It was always so easy to tease the guy. He took a breath instead, ignoring the obvious bait. “It’s four pm, you do understand that right?”
“Yep,” Jeno starts, “Late night.”
Usually Late Night was code for a more rated R style of living. Now poor loser Jeno used the term for what were nights of binge watching Formula One Race highlights and an occasional jackoff session when he really couldn’t sleep. What? It was scientifically proven that release made for better sleep quality.
Darling chose to finally speak then, “Tomorrow you should post a picture or something, fans are wondering what their favorite drummer has been up to.”
He cringed, not too sure just how much fans would be interested in his new super boring lifestyle. “Yeah sure, i’ll get to that.” He could probably just take some pictures today while he’s out running to post for later. “Everyone else out?”
Jisung nods, his attention on the TV as he scrolls through what shows and movies were suggested. “I think Mark went to go help his mom back home today and Jaemin tagged along.”
“He’s not trying to get into Mark’s noonas pants anymore right?”
In Jeno’s humble opinion as a twenty five year old, engagement at twenty six seemed pretty soon but to each their own. No seriously, because his parents themselves were pretty adamant on him finding a potential girlfriend and or wife soon.
He shakes off the thought, “Hyuck?”
“Who knows, the guy has been way too secretive lately for someone who loves to be in everyone else’s business.”
“You’re still mad he tried joining us on our first date?” Darling reached forward tugging on Jisung’s cheek, a smile on full display.
Jisung rolled his eyes, “Tried is an understatement, he literally sat at the table right next to us.”
Darling only cooed at him, the two becoming lost in their own little world of smiles and extreme public display of affection. Jeno held back a groan of annoyance, instead choosing peace. Since it was late that at least meant that he had time to stop by the bar, he was pretty sure you were scheduled to work today also so why not make things better by venting all of his problems with a couple of drinks in between.
“I’m going out,” He announced to nobody apparently since neither one of them spared him short of a glance.
Apparently tonight was an exception to an empty club, what with being a Thursday. He’d made an entrance and beelined directly to the bar, which was a bit busier than he usually found it.
You were busy serving up someone’s drink to notice him, a man who stared at you a bit longer than some may deem normal. It wasn’t long until you slid over a glass to the man, who took it with a small glint in his eye and offered up a piece of paper before whispering to you and walking away.
“What’s that about?” Jeno asked curiously, though he was sure he knew exactly what it was about.
You barely flinched, having already noticed his presence before he spoke. “Number,” You groaned before throwing it into the trash, “Why are all of these rich folks so greedy. I work for tips not for numbers.”
Jeno laughs, “Oh I'm sure he wanted to give you a tip alright.”
You deadpanned, already concocting his drink of choice, “You’re here early.”
“Couldn’t exactly get anything else done,” He smiled sweetly in thanks as you slid over the glass.
You giggled, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Donghyuck?”
“Worse, Jisung.”
That got your attention, the shock in your face masked by your hand coming up to stop yourself from laughing. “Wait really?”
“Unfortunately,” Jeno sighs, “It seems he’s been getting more action than me nowadays.”
Your brows furrow, “Is Lee Jeno in a dry spell?”
“The worst kind,” He groaned, downing the rest of the drink with a quick chug. “I mean seriously, you know how tired my wrist is?”
You laugh, “Whatever happened with Lia?”
Jeno let out another sigh, “Didn’t last long at all. None of them do, at some point they think that they’ll get a little love story when I make it very clear from the start that i’m in no way looking for anything like that. Doesn’t help that because of Jisung and Darling, people assume the rest of us are looking for that.”
“Ah yes,” You slide over another serving you must’ve mixed while he started his rant. “Who would dare assume a twenty five year old wants to settle down.”
“I’m serious,” You chuckle, proceeding to make another person drink while he continues to rant. “It’s like no matter how up front I am about only wanting casual sex people expect to change my mind. It’s exhausting.”
“Tell me about it,” You sigh, “The persistence of some men around here really does give me the creeps. The other day I had to ask Heejin to walk me to my car cause this guy kept saying he would see me after my shift.”
Jeno frowns in concern, “You could’ve called me to pick you up.”
You shrug it off, “It was late anyway, and I had things to take care of.”
“Ah,” Jeno laughs, “You’re still working on that porno.”
“Will you shut up?” You look around frightened that anyone overheard him, lucky for you the crowd had died down.
“Have a drink with me?”
You raise a brow. “I’m on the clock.”
“Then after.” Jeno replies, taking another sip from his glass.
“I’m not drinking that fuck ass poison you sip on.”
He holds back a laugh, “You forget you’re the one who invented it.”
The memory springs to life, the first time you’d practiced mixing drinks for your bartender certification and Jeno being your willing subject. In his defense, he could handle his liquor quite a bit, and being young and broke meant that he’d take any ounce of free alcohol necessary.
You had mixed the worst kinds of alcohols together, whiskeys and tequila stirred into a concoction that somehow looked purple. Jeno had taken a careful sip, not before asking you just how safe it was, and though it must’ve been the most awful thing he’d ever tasted he couldn’t help but give you a shaky thumbs up. You’d been so excited to make your own recipe, and he was in no way going to burst your bubble.
It became his drink of choice since then, and despite the fact that you had tried it for the first time a year ago and realized just how disgusting it was, he continued to order it anyway. Maybe it grew on him, or maybe he just happened to succumb to Stockholm syndrome. Nevertheless, it was still his first choice.
“Yeah and i’ve since then improved, thank you very much,” You wring out a rag to clean up the table where some drunk had spilled a bit of his beer on the counter.
Jeno hums, “So then why don’t you prove it to me? Drinks later?”
You roll your eyes, never really able to say no to him. “If you can wait a couple of more hours.”
He nods, his eye smile mimicking that of a crescent moon. “Done.”
☆ 📚 ☆
Your shift went by quicker once Jeno had stopped by. Most of the drinks for the rest of the night were easy shots of whiskey that you served for the other customers besides him since you’d planned on drinking together. And it was nice, being able to make a bit of casual conversation in between working. It was always a relief when Jeno visited, even if that meant he teased you out loud a few times even in front of customers.
Luckily for him, you spared him a beating because he promised to buy your favorite. Somaek.
“I still remember when you would gag every time I ordered a beer,” Jeno jokes, poking at the last piece of fried chicken from the take out you guys had picked up before arriving at your own place.
You laughed, louder than you had to because alcohol always had a way of making you giggle over any and everything. “I told you, when you mix Soju you can’t taste the gross beer flavor.”
Jeno hums, smiling at you as you devoured the chicken like it was the last meal on earth. His smile quickly vanished when he got a notification on his phone, the brightness only peeking for a second before he clicked his phone off.
“Who is it?”
“Lia,” Jeno groans, “she wants to know if i’d be down to meet up.” You hum, taking a last swig of your glass of somaek. “The worst part is if I were even slightly more tipsy, I think I would’ve caved in.
“You’re insane,” You laugh, the man only meeting your eyes with a look of desperation.
“Yeah unfortunately.”
You pause for a moment, your mind trying to fight against oversharing because when you were about two drinks in you got to that point. Ultimately you lost the internal battle.
“I’m not having too good of luck in that department either,” You match Jeno’s energy with a sigh. “What makes it worse is that Shuhua says I gotta get laid cause it’s making my book bland.”
He coughs, “What?”
“Yeah,” You continue. “Don’t laugh but I've been really struggling writing a few of the more.. intense scenes. I’m really trying though, it’s just the idea of sex with a random stranger really is weirding me out. Then there’s the deadline, I wanted to have this done by the end of the year but Shuhua’s convinced that unless I get hands on inspiration then i’m totally fucked. Not literally but figuratively—“
“Wait wait wait,” Jeno interrupts you. “You’re telling me Shuhua told you to find somebody to fuck or kiss the book deal goodbye?”
“No? She said I could always just take out any sex scenes.”
Jeno snaps his fingers then, raising his glass to his lips. “But you’re perverted and refuse to.”
You frown, “I’m not perverted! Last I checked i’m not some freak who got hard on a carnival ride.” The memory of Disco pang pang was horrifying at the time it happened, now it was funny to look back on. Especially when you used it against him.
Jeno flushes red, “I told you to stop with that already! I wasn’t hard, it was my phone in my pocket.”
“Yeah sure thing neno,” You winked, pouring yourself another two to three ratio of soju and beer, Jeno’s hand subtly moving to help steady the glass as you poured the shot of soju into it.
“You’re irritating,” He rolled his eyes, though you could tell by the small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth that he was far from being angry at all. It’s just the way the two of you teased one another.
“And you,” you raise your glass like you were making a toast. “need to get laid.”
He lets out a dry chuckle, raising his own drink to clink yours. “Can’t argue with that.”
As you sip down the now room temperature beer, the bitter taste hardly effective since you were now tipsy enough you could hardly taste alcohol, an idea hit you straight on like a bus. You eyed the man in front of you, him being completely clueless to how you were observing him like he was a science experiment.
He was busy calling out meowy’s name with a few psst psst in between to get her to stop playing hard to get and let him pet her. By the time he set your cat onto his lap your mouth spoke before your brain could stop it.
“We should have sex!”
Jeno’s eyes widened tenfold, and because of how you’d forgotten to adjust your volume before speaking, meowy became startled and ran straight out of the living room space and into your bedroom.
His silence lasted long enough for you, despite the cloudy mind, to understand just how bizarre the suggestion was without any explanation. So you gave him just that.
“Think about it neno,” The usage of the childish pet name in this topic of discussion caused you to slightly cringe. “You need to get laid because your brain refuses to function without direct stimulation to your– thing.” You emphasized the word by jerking your hand forward in the direction of his crotch. “And I need to get laid so I can get inspiration for my book!”
The man was too stunned to speak, his hands coming up to his face to rub at his eyes like this was a dream. Unfortunately for him, it was not. “You can’t be serious.” He finally speaks.
You nod, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know y/n maybe because i’m your best friend and I don't think we’ve ever seen each other in that way?”
Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “There’s no romance to this at all. Sure attraction plays a subtle part in this but it’s mostly about trust.” He sits still for a moment, pondering.
“We don’t have to, it was just a suggestion.”
You say it as if the words that left your mouth weren’t just a ticking time bomb in Jeno’s poor mind. You took another swig of your drink, falling into the same ordinary rhythm the two of you had from earlier.
Jeno speaks up barely holding in a cough when he asks, “Trust?”
You nod again, “I don’t really want to just sleep with just any guy, most of them don’t even know how to please a woman let alone charm them. I need inspiration, not regrets.”
Jeno smiles at that, “So you’re saying I know how to please women?”
Instead of falling into his bait you offer a shrug, "I've heard word, why? You saying what I heard is wrong?”
He chuckles lightly ignoring your dig, “Not at all. Just taking precaution. Wouldn’t want you to end up like Lia.”
You suck your teeth in annoyance, “You wouldn’t have to worry about anything, it’s not like it would change anything.”
“Y/N,” He calls your name again. Only this time there’s no teasing, no mocking. “You do realize that sex can change a lot of things for some people.” He speaks honestly, most of it coming from experience of countless horror hookup stories you’d heard first hand time and time again. “I trust you a lot, and i’m not against the idea but I don’t want things to ever get weird for either of us,” Jeno sighs. “The last thing I want is to make things complicated.”
“Well then it’s a good thing that none of us are looking for anything more than sex.” You reply directly. “The best part is it shouldn’t be awkward at all, we know each other well enough.”
Jeno takes a moment, a deep breath of consideration while you’re busy swirling your glass around.
“Okay,” He answers, your gaze falling over to him in an instant. “We can talk more about this later then, when you’re not drunk.”
“I’m not drunk.”
He hums, “How many fingers?” He asks as innocent as ever, contradictory to his middle finger standing straight and tall in your face.
“One,” You answer, shoving his hand away. “and you can shove it up your ass, asshole.”
He smirks, “According to our earlier conversation you’d probably prefer it up yours.”
“Motherfucker—“
“I’m serious though Y/N, we can talk more about this later.”
You frown. “Fine,” You stand up from where you sat on the floor, “then i’m going to bed.”
“Go ahead,” He says it like it’s his own house. “I’ll clean this up.”
“Sure,” You reply, stretching your arms and legs before heading for your bedroom. “Use the spare by the way, don’t go home this late.”
You were able to afford an apartment with a spare bedroom, one that Jeno often occupied. Especially these days with how many people were staying in the band’s shared apartment these days.
“Yeah yeah, make sure not to sleep on your back, the last thing I want to wake up to is you dead from choking on your own vomit.”
“Don’t say things like that!” You shout in disgust, earning a laugh from him.
“Goodnight neno.”
“Night, Princess.”
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno always knew you were unpredictable, but this moment really took the cake.
He had cleaned up your apartment, figuring that the more he kept his mind occupied the less he had to actually overthink the arrangement you had suggested.
On one hand, the message was clear. You both got along so well because of how similar the two of you viewed the world. Hookups were nothing more than a sense of relief for you both, so as much as he loved to tease, he knew that there really was nothing to worry about. The other hand was complicated because for some reason he began to over analyze everything.
How would this work? Would the act itself be awkward? Would this ruin your friendship? Is this a one and done deal?
There were too many variables to consider, and Jeno wasn’t sure how this would go about if you weren’t just talking out of your drunk mind and really meant it. He took a deep breath as he stared into the mirror in your bathroom, setting down the toothbrush he had there because of course he had his own.
And as he laid in the spare bedroom, the subtle scent of your lavender sheets filling his brain, he chose to do what was either going to be the worst mistake in his life, or the best.
Really though, what was the worst thing that could happen? The both of you have sex and hate it?
“I stand by what I said,” You mumbled over the spoon in your mouth. “I think it could do us both good.”
Jeno had barely gotten the sentence out when you brought up the question again, this time over breakfast without any alcohol in your system to use as a cushion in case Jeno declined. Though Jeno wasn’t too sure you needed it anyway.
You were firm with your question, not in a way that made him feel like he had to agree but instead as if it was a simple request such as, What should we have for dinner? and not Do you want to have casual sex?
“You don’t have to agree with me, I can always figure out a solution to my own problems and I'm sure you’d have zero problems in that department either.” You added, looking over his arms that were pretty distracting. He was wearing a sleeveless tank top, the shirt of his he left with a pile of clothing, largely consisting of hoodies you had borrowed and forgot to give back, and clothes he kept at your place for the times he would stay over.
The issue was the opposite. Jeno has had many problems in that department lately.
“Okay,” Jeno begins, clearing his throat. You reacted with wide eyes. “Yeah sure why not?”
You smile happily, as if he’d surprised you with an all paid trip to the Bahamas or something. “Jeno, you have no idea how much this is going to help me!”
He frowns, surely you couldn’t be that inexperienced. The two of you had countless stories shared. You especially had a habit of rambling about.
“Wait,” You hop out of your seat. “We need to make a list of rules!” Before Jeno can comment you’re already running to your room, returning slightly breathless with a pen and paper in hand.
You set it down on the table slowly beginning to move the pen drawing line after line, your writing was surprisingly messy for someone who was an author. Jeno didn’t comment on it though, he doesn’t have time when you’re already pushing him further down the dining bench, scooting closer to him as you set down the paper that now reads.
Rules for our arrangement.
“What’s this?” Jeno asks, earning a bored look from you that translates to, are you really asking?
“Rules, I think it’ll be best so we can note our boundaries before just hopping into things.” Your smile is tight but genuine, which only makes Jeno realize just how nervous you really are. You weren’t the type to show your fears, but you were always one to be cut and clear about anything else you felt.
Jeno nods along, smiling softly in hopes that it’ll help you feel less awkward. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”
You smile widely, this time with full fledged confidence. “I’m glad you asked. So for starters, I think it’s best we start this arrangement with a few notes on what we are okay with and things we aren’t okay with.”
“Like?” Jeno asks before taking a sip of water out of his cup.
“Like, Anal!” Jeno chokes on the beverage, coughing repeatedly to regain composure. His scene doesn’t alarm you much, so you press further. “I don’t ever want anything up there.” You state flatly.
“Sure,” He nods, having cleared his throat and this time taking a sip to fully clear out his throat. “it’s not really my thing either.”
“Great.” You write down the first rule, Sex will only involve things the both of us are okay with. And in parenthesis: No Anal.
“Is there anything you wouldn’t want to do?” You question him. Jeno tries to think, it’s a bit harder to think about when you’re put on the spot. There’s nothing he’s too uncomfortable with that he wouldn’t just say in the moment, so he opts for the obvious answer.
“No Anal.”
You let out a laugh, “Great I guess we're both on the same page then.”
This felt almost ridiculous, but as long as you were happy he wasn’t going to question much. “Another thing, I need your permission to allow all of our uh– experiences to be used as inspiration for my novel.”
“I know Y/N trust me i’m cool with it.”
“Okay because the last thing i’d want is for you to be offended or upset if I write something you disagree with.”
Jeno shook his head, “Nothing to be ashamed of, I have quite the reputation i’ve upkept.”
You scowled, his cocky attitude baiting your reaction. “Okay, but don’t be offended when I make sure to add your size.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I can show you now if you’d like.” Jeno replies mockingly, reaching for his shorts.
You reach to stop his hand, “Let’s keep it in your pants at least a little while longer.” He shrugs, his arms folding around his waist as you write.
“Are there any rules you want to add?”
Jeno ponders for a moment. There wasn’t much he thought he could add with all seriousness. The situation itself was not very serious on his part, sleeping with a close friend all because he couldn't find a regular hookup who didn’t want dinner dates and eventual marriage? He felt pretty ridiculous, but since you had been the one to suggest it, it at least kept him from feeling like a weirdo.
There was one thing he needed as a rule, something that would give him peace of mind going into this arrangement.
“We have to separate our sex life and our friendship.” He spoke after some time. You had met his eyes with a brow raised.
“I’m sure that’ll be a bit difficult considering we’re going to be friends who fuck.” You joke.
He lets out a small chuckle, before adding with complete sincerity. “I think it’s important that we keep both our sexual life and our friendship separate. There’s no reason to let any of it get mumbled and jumbled, that's why friends with benefits never work.”
“Right,” You breathe out. “So then you’d prefer?”
“I’d prefer that no matter what happens, things won’t ever change. No matter what. Even if we stop sleeping together, we need to remain friends.”
It wasn’t just a request, what he wanted was a promise. One on paper that was needed in the rare case that everything went to shit. He wouldn’t be able to agree to it at all if that wasn’t agreed upon.
You met his eyes, a reassuring smile on your face. “Then if at any point any one of us want out,” You scribble down the rest in handwriting he could hardly understand. “or for any other reason, we talk to each other.”
The room was met with silence as you finished writing down everything, reading it over like it was one of the ten commandments until the two of you had it ingrained in your brains.
The quietness only broke when Jeno laughed aloud after teasing you by moving his thumb away from the ink you had to stamp his fingerprint on the paper. All uneasiness or anxieties vanished just like that, the two of you rebooting back into your playful dynamic.
“There!” You exclaimed happily once Jeno gave in and allowed you to bring his red stamped finger onto the paper.
Jeno hardly had time to admire you, his phone alarm going off reminding him of the Band’s practice today. He locked his phone, the blasting sound coming to a quick halt in an instant.
“I have to go now.” Jeno stood up from the seat, sliding across the floor easily even while you were still sitting.
“Wait!” You stuttered, a blush reaching your face as all nervousness came back in full force. “Uh. When did you want to start? Y’know.. doing.. stuff.”
Jeno had to use every fiber of his being to resist making fun of you. “Whenever you want to.”
You nodded. “Then how about tomorrow? I don’t have work so we could maybe, I don't know, go out?”
Yeah, Jeno really had to use the last of his restraint. He chose to laugh instead, “You trying to ask me out on a date?”
You scowled, “I’m just trying to set the mood.”
“Yeah i’m not sure that’s how friends with benefits really works,” He says too casually for someone who has never been in that arrangement until now.
“Right.” You reply.
“Y/N,” he calls out. “You can just call whenever you want to.”
He hopes the implication is clear.
“Sure, you too.”
With the way you look at him he knows that you understood. There’s a quick goodbye before Jeno is out the door. He hopes the guys don’t mind his slight tardiness, though if he’s serious almost all of the group had a problem being late to practice.
He feels a bit of relief, the two of you having found solutions to your growing problems. Well, at least a bit of his growing problems, but it wasn’t something he’d like to dwell on at the moment.
There wasn’t much anxiety, at least on his part, more so the awkwardness radiating off of you not knowing how to start but he was sure that the feeling would shrink with time. If he weren’t booked and busy with practice at the moment, he would’ve probably tried easing your embarrassment using a different method. That was mostly him thinking with his dick, which nobody could blame him for, it had been a pretty hard couple of months.
All in all, Jeno couldn’t feel more confident. It was a win-win situation, and since the both of you had agreed and talked everything over he was sure that nothing would go wrong.
☆ 📚 ☆
The moment Jeno had left your home, you let out a deep sigh.
To be completely honest, you had woken up this morning pulling the hair from your head as memories flooded your mind. You weren’t even sure you had wanted to step out of your bedroom hearing the man lurk around the place from behind the door.
You debated resting until he finally gave up and left, but the growl your tummy had let out at the smell of everything delicious wafting into your room had caused you to cave in.
On the bright side, as much as you were stupid and impulsive, he’d actually agreed. It saved you the embarrassment of being rejected, not to brag but that wasn’t something you were accustomed to experiencing. And now all of it was hitting you, at full force.
Friends with benefits.
You genuinely had zero clue just how that worked, did this mean that now at any time either one of you could just call on one another like a booty call? You let out a sigh, Meowy let out a meow in response, like she was asking where the man had gone.
You weren’t quite sure that you made the best decision, but only time would tell. For now you could feel ease creeping up your spine, this would solve one problem for now and in the worst case scenario, it would probably end in bad sex.
It was a chance you were more than willing to make.
There was nothing that could’ve mentally prepared you for heading into this type of arrangement. And no it wasn’t the friendship thing, it was not knowing just how to jump start into sex without looking insane.
The two of you sat in your living room, barely any distance between the two of you where you lay on the floor, watching the TV. Which was ironically out of the norm when the two of you were usually cuddling during your movie marathons. Everything felt off, even the movie playing on the TV that truthfully you randomly picked and now realized was definitely not something you were rating higher than one star on Letterboxd later.
Meowy had made herself a bit too comfortable with Jeno. Lying on his lap like nothing mattered in the world more than his hands petting her. Ridiculously enough, you felt a short wave of envy, shoving that feeling down immediately because in what world would you be jealous of your cat for living carelessly.
You were sure it had been almost an hour of just sitting next to each other, not a single one of you moving a single bone in your body. You were pretty sure he was waiting for a signal, but every time you had the nerve to try, you shrank in on yourself in an instant, overthinking everything. It was like the moment had long passed, that was until the worst thing imaginable happened.
There were moans blaring out of the TV, the movie having shifted from its weird cultish horror vibe into a porno. Meowy wasn’t a fan of the shift in volume, hopping off of your friend and walking away into her cat bed. You cursed silently, of course your cat would leave you to fend for yourself.
The uncomfortable silence filled the room, safe for the excruciatingly long sex scene playing out in front of you that felt like it was mocking you. You were suddenly thankful the room was dim enough that your redness would go unseen.
“Are you trying to subliminally tell me something?” Jeno whispered, his voice too close to your ear that only made you blush harder.
You refused to meet his gaze, if you did then you’d lose the last of your dignity. For a moment you weren’t sure how to reply, deciding to use all of your strength to sound as confident as ever. “If I was then would that finally get the ball rolling?”
He chuckled, his hand suddenly slipping around your waist. “Is that what you were waiting for?”
There were always times where the two of you would have a conversation and he’d allow his cocky nature to slip out. This time felt different though, it was like the room shifted with his tone.
“Yes.”
His eyes widened at your response, a slight falter from not having expected you to be so honest. “Then I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” He answers truthfully. His arms suddenly pull you closer to sit on his lap. The same arms that he left on full display with his sleeveless shirt, it really didn’t make things any easier for you. You’d been making subtle glances at them hoping he was into manhandling, which seems now you were right.
“How should I make it up to you?” He tilts your chin up with his fingers. Your faces are only inches apart. Damn he was good at this. You were aware of his game, you’d seen it play out many times in person. But why did it suddenly feel so different when it was directed at you? You suck in a breath, his thumb tracing the side of your stomach louder than the long forgotten movie playing behind you.
“Y/N,” He calls your name. “We don’t have to do anything.” His voice is soft and reassuring, only adding fuel into the growing heat.
“I want to, it's just,” You frown, hoping you don’t sound ridiculous. “I don’t know how to start.”
He nods in understanding, his palm wrapping around your cheek. “Do you want me to lead?”
“Please.”
You were sure you came off a bit more desperate than you meant to, but with the way his hips suddenly shifted just a fraction gave you the feeling he wasn’t complaining.
“Okay.” His voice is featherlight, you could feel his breath quicken as he closes the distance between you. “Then is this okay?” He asks, his thumb still tracing over your body, now fixated on the lower curve of your back.
You barely manage to nod before he’s connecting his mouth onto yours, a short peck to feel out the action before fully engaging. If any of your worries still existed they were certainly gone now, tuned out by the heavy beating of your heart. You leaned forward this time, your lips meeting this time with much less hesitation.
Jeno brought his right hand up to cup your face, his left hand around your waist, the grip firm to hold you in place. His teeth bite into your bottom lip, pulling a tiny gasp from you just to slide his tongue over the skin. You take that as a challenge, meeting him with your own eagerness and sliding your own tongue into his to deepen the kiss.
He groans, his hips shifting you into a more comfortable position on him. You’re not sure how many seconds pass like that. You slightly grind against him, the simple peck from earlier turned into a full on makeout session. Your hands fondling his arms to keep yourself from losing all of your balance as it grows heated. And just as your chest begins to tighten with every breath of yours being stolen by him, he pulls away.
You take in a deep breath trying to steady yourself, his eyes meeting yours with a question. One that you already have an answer to.
“Bedroom.”
The word comes out rushed and whiny, earning a low chuckle from him before he lifts you up with him. You had of course made out with people before, most of that happening in your early college years but this time was different. Jeno had taken your breath away but with that all motor function too, you noticed it now as your feet felt way too light.
He must’ve picked up on it, instead lifting you into his arms like you weighed equivalent to a pillow to him, and heading straight towards your bedroom. “Neno–“ You squeaked out, caught off guard by his sudden action. You couldn’t see his face from how he was carrying you over his shoulder but you were sure he was giving his signature samoyed smile.
You were proved right a moment later as he steadily set you down onto your bed. “Tell me, Princess, just how many book drafts of yours played out like this?”
Your cheeks reddened, he was spot on with the question. Male lead plopping the Main Character onto the bed before pounding into her with zero warning. The only thing that was missing was the use of his belt as a restraint for the main character’s hands. As much as that sounded interesting though, it was a little too early to hop into something as complex as that. So for the meantime, this would do.
It must’ve been a rhetorical question, since he doesn’t give you time to answer before he's lifting your shirt up and off your body. You pull him in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth, your patience growing thin with every second building up. You let out a happy sound, one that he drinks up, one hand sliding against your back to unclasp your bra in a quick second.
You push him back, noting the messy hair and the way his chest is practically begging for air. “You are way too good at that.”
“What can I say, i’ve had some practice.” He replies, meeting your mouth for a deep but short kiss compared to the ones before. You get the memo and start removing your own bra, discarding it onto the floor. But as a simple minded woman who believes in equality, and seriously loves a nice chest even on a man, you lift his shirt up all the same, meeting your own pair of fabric somewhere you couldn’t care less about.
He detaches from your lips, his mouth leaving kisses around your neck before slowly making it down to your breasts. “Fuck, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined.”
“Have you imagined me in this position on multiple occasions?” You tease, not expecting an answer.
“Only since I had to leave you to go practice when we signed our lives away.”
“That was only a day ago.”
“Really? It felt way longer than that.” Your words catch in your throat with how close his breath is over your sensitive nipple, every nerve in your body on standby waiting for him to do something. Lucky you, he doesn’t leave you waiting any longer. His mouth connecting around your chest and sucking harsh enough to make you moan.
The pleasure is foreign to you, the only experience you had being your own hands pinching against your chest whenever you seeked pleasure by yourself. Other men had usually disregarded that part of your body at all, unless of course they used it to their own benefit, squeezing onto your chest as if it were their own personal stressball. With every lick to your nub it sent a jolt to your body, growing hotter.
You could barely keep your eyes open now, focusing all of your attention on keeping the noise down because it wasn’t like you owned the house, it was rented. Jeno’s hand snakes down again, this time sliding through the elastic waistband of your shorts, tracing the thin fabric of your panties slick with your arousal.
“Neno please,” You whine, your hips growing weak even to the slightest touch of his fingers against you, subconsciously trying to grind down on his hands.
He detaches from your lips, his gaze hazy while he meets yours. You can already feel the ache on your chest from the littered bruises he’s left forming. Jeno must be growing impatient too, because he’s pulling down your shorts at your plea in record breaking time.
“Lube?”
“The bottom drawer to the right.”
The loss of his touch feels like an eternity of hell until he’s back again. Your cunt clenching against nothing as his hand pushes your legs further apart. You have to give yourself a moment to calm your nerves, the sound of the bottle opening signaling them to come back at full force.
“Fuck baby,” Jeno starts. “We might not even need that much with how wet you are for me.”
As cocky as he sounds, it only fuels your fire. Fuck Jeno for living up to his expectations without even having fucked you yet. You already felt stupid enough.
He slides a finger through the lace fabric, shoving it to the side as his middle finger pushes through your folds, the bed talk stalling you for long enough to warm the lube he’d gathered onto his fingers. It worked well, your cunt squeezing around his finger from where he curled it up. His fingers were much thicker than yours, a feeling you hadn’t felt in quite a while because you’d been the one prepping yourself most of the time.
“Another one please,” You breathe out. His ringer finger pushes in next, filling you up more and causing another moan to push past your lips.
“You’re so tight,” He mutters, his eyes zoned in on the way your cunt sucks in his fingers. His hand is moving on its own then, dragging slowly out of you before pushing in with more force. You let out another whine, your thighs threatening to shut on instinct to which he pinches them.
You wince, caught off guard by the sudden sharp pain as he smoothes his finger over the spot. “Keep them open, be a good girl and do that for me.”
The nickname does something to you, call it a hidden praise kink you hadn’t even realized you had until now. Jeno’s fingers are moving with much more pace now, not enough to completely satisfy you but enough to have you seconds from begging for more. His mouth clashes against yours again, swallowing every low noise you make as his fingers scissor you apart, and when he finally adds the third finger you feel seconds away from snapping.
You accidentally bite down on his lip, a warm metallic taste meeting your mouth that you can’t help but to taste more of. Jeno has no issue with this, the thrust of his fingers getting more urgent than before, his tongue begging to taste more of his own blood mixed with the sugary taste you have from snacking on artificially flavored gummies.
“Fu–nghh— neno”
You’re close, and all it takes is one sharp thrust of his fingers curling right into the spot you needed him most to have you finishing. Your eyes rolling back with the very welcome feeling of your orgasm washing over you.
His fingers continue to move, dragging out your pleasure for as long as he could until you're wincing from the overstimulation to which he removed them, your cunt suddenly far too empty. You feel like your soul has been knocked out of your body, taking a few deep breaths to gather the last of your energy.
“Are you okay?”
The chuckle slips out of your lips before you can even stop it. “Dude you just made me cum from your fingers alone and you’re asking that?”
Jeno looks around, confused on how that’s a shocking revelation. “Yes?”
You sigh, “I’m okay, just need a moment.” You open your eyes, his large frame still holding your thighs apart in between you. You probably shouldn’t laugh at a moment like this, but he really looks just like an obedient puppy waiting for your next move.
He catches the smile on your face, his expression growing confused. “What?”
“Nothing, you just look really cute right now.”
He frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to look hot and sexy and so unresistable you can’t help but climb onto me?”
You shrug, “sure you look all of those things too.”
His frown deepens, he cups your hands with his own, holding them on either side of you, Not rough at all, if you wanted to you could move him off of you, but a part of you really liked the illusion of him pinning you down. Perhaps another time he’d really use all of his strength, now that idea sent another wave of arousal in between your legs.
Jeno catches on quickly, how can he not with the way you’re squirming around. “You like being manhandled?”
You don’t answer. You trace over his body instead, eyeing the very prominent bulge in his pants. Since your legs were free now you bring up your knee, rubbing it ever so slightly against him. He shutters at the contact.
“Neno,” You whisper his name like it was a prayer. “I think i’m ready for the next round.”
He lets out a short laugh, though there’s hardly any humor in his tone whatsoever. You take note of his ears, the faint pink from how badly he must’ve been holding back. If you were reading him correctly, that meant he was probably too close to snapping. You were thankful he was focused on your knee rubbing against him, cause if he saw your expression now it would’ve given yourself away.
He lets go of where he had your hands, giving you the opportunity to wrap them around him and feel up his muscles you’d been way too distracted earlier to fully admire.
“Fuck–“ He groans. The sound like music to your ears and further encouraging you to touch him. He pulls his shorts down slightly, revealing the waistband of his boxers, the print of his dick making your mouth water.
You’re already reaching forward, cupping him firmly. A wince sounding from his lips. “Can I?”
He nods. You hook down the fabric, his thick and needy cock slapping against him fully erect and flushed against him. You pump him twice, using your other hand to reach for the condom he’d grabbed earlier when he got the bottle of lube.
There was no going back after this, you did realize that as you rolled the condom down onto him. “You’re sure about this?” He asked one last time, his breathing heavy waiting for your answer to finally cave in.
“Never been more sure.” Within the next second you feel the stretch as he pushes into you, your cunt squeezing his thick girth inches at a time until your hips meet his own. He gives you enough time to adjust, kissing down the side of your shoulder to help calm your nerves.
It’s far from your first time, but this was nothing like any of the men you’d had before. His size fills you up in all of the ways you’d only thought possible in some kind of fairy tale.
The sound of your name being called makes you open your eyes that you hadn’t even realized were shut. You clench around him unintentionally, pulling a groan from his throat that only feeds your confidence. You could tell based off of how his arms tightened their hold around you, how wrecked he was.
“You can move.”
He wastes no time, setting a slow pace that somehow drives him directly to your sweet spot. He’s way less quieter than you’d assumed he’d be in bed, his noises low yet heavy, matching your moans as he continues to thrust inside you.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm approaching once more. And with how patient he’d been, it was like a prayer had been answered.
“Neno I- I’m—“
“I know baby me too,”
With an embarrassing amount of thrusts the two of you came undone together. His mouth landing on yours to capture the last of your screams as your pussy clenched around him with your release, triggering him to finish into the condom.
After a quick moment of the two of you registering everything, you can’t help but laugh, Jeno's wounded expression only causing you to laugh more.
“I’m sorry it’s just,” You catch your breath, stopping yourself from looking any more insane than you probably did now. “Fuck, those girls were really not lying.” His head tilted in confusion. “You really are big.”
He laughs then, "That's really nice and all but if you keep saying things like that I might have another problem.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’d just come once and was not quite ready for another round.
“What’s that saying? What’s one’s problem is another's solving?” You smirk.
He scoffs, pulling out of you with a swift action that makes you wince. “You could barely last one round, save it for next time.”
“Me?” You gasp. Jeno stands up already having discarded the condom in your trash. He’s reaching for his boxers from the ground to put on as some kind of shield. You were a bit disappointed, his size while soft was surprisingly just as impressive as it was when it was hard. “I came twice!”
He’s back then, a damp towel in his hand to clean around your sensitive thighs. “And you also scared the living shit out of me when you went limp after you came the second time.”
You roll your eyes, “Not my fault you fucked me dumb.”
He snorts, tossing the damp towel onto the ground as he lays back down beside you, pulling you close to his chest in what could be viewed to some as intimate, but to you two was normal behavior.
“Ew you’re gross and sweaty!”
He hums, “So are you.”
You groan, “Release me you freak.”
“Aftercare is highly recommended after any heavy sex session, just lie with me for a bit, okay?”
“I’d argue it could’ve been heavier,” You mumble, succumbing to his hold around you.
“Next time,” His voice is light, leaving you with a strange sense of peace. You couldn’t help but stare now. With his eyes shut you could observe him closer than ever before. The soft lips of his that had been on you multiple different times tonight, red and bruised from the makeout session you had earlier.
You squeeze an arm out of his hold, raising your fingers to trace over the small bite on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry I bit you.”
“Don’t be,” He sounded dazed, like he was seconds away from falling asleep. “If I had a problem then I would’ve stopped you.”
“Oh so you are a freak!” He hums, not denying it. “Oh my god you are, aren't you! No wonder those girls had zero plans on letting you go.”
He opens his eyes then, meeting you with a bored look. “I wouldn’t be talking if I were you, aren’t you the one who was seconds from coming just from me pinning you down?”
“What?” Your jaw drops. “That’s so untrue! This is defamation!”
He shuts his eyes again, seemingly ignoring your remarks yet keeping a smile on his face the entire time.
“I could sue you! I’d take that drumset from you in a second.”
“Then would you take my job too?” He replies mockingly.
“Hey I could! The guys really happen to like me, you know I think if I talked it out with them we could work something out.”
He hums, “Then I guess i’d have to learn how to make some drinks and fill in for you?”
“I think bartender Jeno would suit you well.”
“Jeno? But what happened to Neno?” You regret even speaking to him instead of just playing dead after sex the second he brings up the nickname.
You choose instead to turn your cheek to him with a pout. “You really love yourself some pillow talk.”
“I’m not the one who started it.”
“I wasn't pillow talking with you I was threatening you.” You retort. “You’re always so full of yourself you know not everyone is trying to bed you, right?”
He laughs, “Did I not just bed you?”
“Ah but that doesn’t count!”
You’re both laughing then, every single ounce of regret fading away. You were silly to ever think that things could change between you two, and this was proof enough that sex didn’t necessarily mean everything would be different between the two of you.
If you could flick off every movie and novel for overdoing the trope you would right now. Because as you laid next to Jeno you realized one thing, it would take more than just one hookup to erase the history you had both built together.
Part Two:
Dare
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in no way secretive, but he also wasn’t the type to tell just everyone every single activity he found himself doing daily. He was quite the opposite to Donghyuck in that way. Where the lead singer acted as if he would die if he wasn’t in the loop twenty four seven, Jeno kept most things lowkey.
But there was one issue with that.
“Late for the third practice in a row,” Donghyuck popped out of seemingly nowhere, trailing behind Jeno as he made his way over to the couch to set down his bag.
“Don’t know what you mean, Jisung isn’t here yet either.”
“Thats because the dude is probably getting his dick wet right now,” Jeno scowls at the idea, “You, have been getting zero action.”
“You don’t know what I do in my free time.”
“I know you’ve racked ten hours a day on valorant all last month,” Donghyuck hums, tilting his head like he had discovered groundbreaking information.
Jeno sighs. “You’ve been in my room.”
“I told you, your controller runs smoother than mine.”
“So then grab it and leave, why are you snooping?” Mark tunes in from where he’s standing, ironically enough, tuning his own guitar.
“Because JenJen has been out way more than he usually is, and I know he’s not at any bars or clubs because I've been at all of them.”
“Ever considered he was avoiding you?” Jaemin smirks.
“Well no, that's unlike him.”
“I’m still here, y'know." Jeno shakes his head, nodding over at Mark in a quick apology. “Sorry, time went by quicker than I’d thought.”
It was the truth after all. He had made it very clear to you that he ran a tight schedule today, one that miraculously worked out in your favor considering how easy it was for Jeno to give into your whiny pleas. Especially when they were all he could hear with your hands in his hair roughly tugging as he ate you out slowly. It didn’t take long for you to finish on his tongue, it did however end with a quickie that lasted a bit longer than it should’ve.
“Don’t worry about it. Five minutes means nothing when you compare it to,” Mark checks his watch, the sound of the door twisting open. The creaky door revealed Jisung, who looked too sweaty for someone who drove himself here. “Ten.”
“I’m sorry I’m late I was—“
“Nobody wants to hear about your sex life.”
“I do.”
Jaemin winks at Jisung, the other frowning. Jeno would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that if he made a single wrong move all attention would be directed to him. He moves away from the group slowly, hoping they’re too busy drilling the youngest to notice him slipping by.
Unfortunately, that's not the case. “You alright man? I feel like the only times I ever see you is when we’re practicing.”
Jeno stops in his tracks, Mark standing before him with a slightly worried look on his face. Mark was a worrier. He didn’t like to make it very known, usually he played it off as just curiosity. But Mark always had the habit of playing with his fingers when he was concerned.
“I’m great, actually just been spending more time with friends.” Jeno hopes the excuse is enough to let him escape, though if Jaemin was the one he said that to he would’ve been caught instantly.
“Oh,” Mark seems relieved, “Y/N? You should bring her over some time, or better yet bring her over to our set next weekend.”
“Yeah man I’ll let her know but I’m pretty sure she’s going to be busy.”
He knew you’d be busy, you mentioned that the night before, about how busy your work schedule was going to be and so there wouldn’t be much time in between to hang out. You had apologized profusely, to which he’d told you there was seriously no reason to. If he could last months without sex, he could last one week while he was out of town.
“Y/N! We haven't seen her in a while!” Jaemin joins the conversation, “How has she been?”
Mark is quick to give a short answer to him, one that Jeno is thankful for as he steps towards his place, drumsticks in hand. The other guys were still talking to each other, the conversation shifting to how Mark doesn’t appreciate them being late constantly. Jisung arguing about how he’s in more trouble when Donghyuck has shown up late to practice more times than Jisung.
The guys were certainly not used to the rise of fame they’ve had, adjusting to a busier schedule and way more practice sessions than ever before. Jeno hadn’t even had time to check in with his family so much anymore because of how busy he was.
The reminder plagues his mind, making him reach for his phone to swipe through the family group chat that he hadn’t been catching up with for reasons that would only make him guilty. There wasn’t much to catch up on except for his cousin asking him for tickets to Oblivion’s show this weekend and another asking if he’s bringing Jaemin as his plus one to his sister’s wedding. That one he skipped past because Yeri had really been trying to make moves on Jaemin
Shit. He had forgotten about how soon that was. He slid out of the chat, noticing a more recent text from his mother.
Mom: I hope you aren’t forgetting about the wedding. I ordered your suit for you and we still need to get it tailored. Stop by soon, I’ve seen my own son on my phone more than in person.
He shoots back a simple reply. He would make sure to visit her soon. More than likely after the show, since his hometown was only half an hour away.
He hadn’t been home in a while, something he was regretting now that he realized it. He did love visiting his family, the problem was that as much as they supported him they, his mother mostly, couldn’t help but make subtle comments.
Like why wouldn’t he want his own place? She was willing to pay his rent so he didn’t have to share space with all of his roommates. Jeno declined on multiple occasions. As much as the guys were annoying, he didn’t mind their company.
Jeno grew up in a household different to the rest. His parents spent most of their time abroad, his father managing the family business and his mother spending most of her time performing in front of stadiums as a nation-known cellist. He did have his older sister, Seulgi, though she was busy with business school to eventually take on their family business.
He loved his family of course, and they loved him but being with the guys felt like he finally had brothers, annoying and kind of invasive, but brothers nonetheless.
“Okay enough screwing around, seriously.” Mark calls for the rest of them. The guys make their way to their positions, Jeno was about to set his phone down when he spots your message.
Princess: You busy tonight?
You had set your own nickname on his phone when you found out he had you as FN/LN, it stuck around since then. He smirks, typing in his reply.
Neno: Why?
You miss me already?
The chat bubble shows that you’re typing. He smiles to himself, awaiting your reply.
Princess: And other things…
I'm free at ten, you have a key.
He’s about to reply when Jaemin pops up from behind him, startling him into shutting his phone off. “Who are you texting?”
“Family.”
Jaemin scoffs, clearly not buying the excuse but choosing to ignore it. “Alright Vin Diesel.” He takes a few steps away, not before raising a brow like he was onto Jeno.
With what little time left before they start warming up Jeno sends a quick thumbs up, hoping that gets the message across clear enough. He can’t say he regrets any of the decisions made in the past few weeks, and if he could make an educated guess based off of how often you ran towards your laptop to write things down after sex, he was sure you felt the same.
He wouldn’t admit it to the guys, mostly because whatever he was up to wasn’t really their business, but also because he liked the sneaky vibe the two of you had going on. It wouldn’t last forever, that’s for sure. But could you blame him for not wanting his friends to ask question after question about you?
If anything he was doing you two a favor, the guys would probably jump you with questions about Jeno that they would never be able to squeeze out of him. There was also the fear that if any of the guys started to catch on then he’d have to explain himself. They had already had a habit of teasing him whenever he mentioned spending nights at your place, even before this arrangement began.
Especially Jaemin who was always the hopeless romantic, reading into things too much. He always bugged Jeno with questions about you, ones like how nice you complimented each other, and how cute the babies would be if you wanted any. It was a problem that Jeno easily solved by setting boundaries, sure, yet still left him wary of telling his friend.
Jeno decided that it would be best to keep this from them, at least for as long as he could. It wasn’t so bad though, because on one hand while you got to tell your own friends, he kept it to himself. A secret that he cherished on his own, one that he could smile freely without anyone poking into what deeper meaning could be there.
☆ 📚 ☆
The last thing you expected was for you to be drunk out of your mind on a random Wednesday at six in the afternoon. It came as no shock that the reason came down to one single factor. Yuqi. The girl was known for her spontaneous trips all around the globe, so when she texted you to meet with her since she happened to be in town, you couldn’t decline.
So you had reluctantly canceled the plans from earlier with Jeno, one too many sorry texts and gifs until he finally called you to say it was really okay. Practice had gone on a bit longer than it usually was with their show coming up soon. And before you could offer another apology for not being able to go out and travel with him to see the band, he was already stressing that you need to worry less.
So that’s what you were doing now, relaxing with three empty soju bottles on the table to account for that. Yuqi sitting in front of you, picking at the samgyeopsal that you had eaten way too much of since she’d offered to pay. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, call it a buzzed daze or whatever but you felt good.
“Shuhua tells me you’ve been focused on writing,” Yuqi starts, “Says you’re trying to push yourself to release by the end of the year.”
You hum, batting your lashes to snap out of whatever daydreaming you’d been doing. “I’ve been pouring all of my hard work into it.”
Yuqi giggles, “Yeah, she said you’re not bad at all, just lack sex appeal.”
You gasp, “I’ll have you know that’s not true!”
She laughs louder, instigating just as she always did. “I’m kidding! She did say you were a bit stuck with the smut scenes.”
“Wow and I thought there was a non disclosure for book transcripts.” You joke, shoving a piece of the pork into your mouth. The sweet glaze being the first thing you taste as you bite into the meat, savoring the flavor like it was gourmet. You guessed that came with the buzz.
“Hey she said that I should talk to you about it, that I might offer good advice.”
“Cause you’re a sex fiend?”
She clicks her tongue, “Because I am an editor for one of the most recognized Magazine Journalism organizations in the world!” A few customers who happen to be dining in raise their eyebrows, giving you a look of disdain and annoyance. Yuqi bows her head slightly in apology before coughing and adjusting her volume, “And because I am a sex fiend, yes.”
“No need.” You reply, picking another piece of meat from the stove on the table. Yuqi frowns. To be honest, if she would’ve come around earlier offering you her own hook up stories than you probably would’ve taken that and used it for inspiration, but now you had your own experiences to use. Not that you had told anyone about that as of yet, so of course Yuqi was looking at you like you just turned down a million dollar check.
What Yuqi was offering was like a goldmine to early writers, ones who, like you, struggled with writer's block because of lack of inspiration. The only thing is, there wasn’t much left uninspired to you. Not when for the past few weeks since the first time you and Jeno had sex. If anything, you’d become quite the fiend yourself, texting him almost every day about perhaps trying something new. For research purposes of course.
“No need?” Yuqi spoke up, "Don't tell me you’ve replaced me with someone else. I didn’t even get to tell you about my trip to Thailand!”
She forgot that she did tell you about that trip, right as it was happening. She called you straight from the bedroom of some girl named Minnie that she’d met at a soirée where she downed way too many glasses of champagne to remember how she ended up in a different hotel room.
“Not replace you, just got some first hand experience.” You smile, refusing to meet her eyes as a warm smile makes its way on your face. She gasps loudly, having realized what the implications meant, the scattered people around shaking their heads at her volume.
“You found another fuck buddy?” She lowers her voice, leaning in closer to analyze any answer your body could tell her. Blame it on the alcohol and the dry mouth you get after a few too many shots, but you gulp. Her eyes widened once more. “Oh my god you did! Why wouldn’t you say anything?”
“Must I need to share everything?”
“Y/N,” She deadpans. “That’s like your main characteristic. Chronic oversharer?”
You open your mouth to reply but she cuts you off. “Don’t argue against it, it’s true! The first conversation we had was about how your childhood cat died and inspired you to become a Bartender.”
Rest in Peace Martini.
You shake your head, setting down your glass. “Alright, fine. Yeah I do, but it’s not like you think it is!” Yuqi tilts her head. “I mean that! You know i’m not really one to have a Fuck buddy.”
“Yet you do anyway?”
She was right, and your stubbornness hated that. “Only because it’s not just some rando!” This time, everyone’s eyes landed on you disapprovingly. You winced, quietly apologizing for your volume.
“Which is exactly why you kept it a secret in the first place, and why you refuse to tell me without sounding ominous, and also explains the fact that you look so tense right now because i’m putting all of the pieces together and— oh my god.” Yuqi pauses, “You’re fucking Lee Jeno.”
You almost spat out your drink, “How did you even guess that?”
“I had a hunch,” Her eyes trail down to your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt tugged lower than it was supposed to be. “Also I've only seen bites like that from one man.”
You weren’t sure if you should be concerned or jealous that she was familiar with his bite marks, not because the two of them had ever messed around but mostly because up until this moment you didn’t know she knew of his bedroom habits. You settled on fear. Yuqi’s guesses were never wrong. It was as scary as it was impressive.
“Calm down tiger, I only know that because he used to hook up with my college roommate.”
For some strange reason that gives you a bit of relief. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She stares at you for a bit, contemplating whether or not to argue with you, ultimately deciding not to.
“Fine, don’t say anything, just drink with me.”
You wouldn’t dare decline. Yuqi excuses herself, heading out to the bar to grab a few shots for a quick second. You’re left alone, scrolling through your phone and slowly thinking about Jeno. You think back to what Yuqi had mentioned earlier. Jeno’s fling with her roommate that you weren’t aware about. You can feel it again this time stronger, a pang in your chest that you refused to dwell over. Your attempts at ignoring fall flat because within the next second you slide into your recent chat with him, sending a text before your brain could decide otherwise.
Princess: What are you doing?
A few minutes pass with no reply until the notification comes in. It’s a picture of him in dim lighting, the only light coming in from what you assumed was his pc. He had headphones on, the mic barely covering his mouth. From the angle, you could see a bit of his clothing. A black tank top, that he apparently had multiple different versions of, his muscular arms on display. You bite your lip, saliva gathering in your mouth from how badly you needed that right now. The next message is short and simple.
Neno: On league w hyuck.
You feigned chalance, staring at the picture longer than you should’ve. Your eyes roam around the place, searching for your friend’s whereabouts before you could make a stupid decision. She’s nowhere, which meant one thing. Your finger is over the call button about to click when you hear someone come up, assuming it’s Yuqi you set your phone down.
“Hey, are you lonely?”
A stranger you hadn’t noticed until now stood in front of you, the man clearly intoxicated with the way his speech was slurred.
“Ah,” You look around for Yuqi, she’s nowhere in sight. “No not real—“
He doesn’t give any time for you to answer, sliding an empty chair way too close to you. From how close he is you can smell the alcohol off of him, even worse with the way he opens his mouth. “It’s not safe for your friend to just leave a pretty girl like you here.”
Your heartbeat rises, his words coming off way more threatening than friendly. You awkwardly laugh, hoping that you don’t at all look as scared as you feel right now.
“Seriously, you’re fucking beautiful.” His arm reaches forward, holding onto your arm. “You got a boyfriend?”
“I–“ You stutter. Fuck. This was not at all how you were supposed to sound like. You’d experienced enough cat calls to know that the best choice in this situation is to walk away. For some reason though you couldn’t help but freeze up.
“Then how about you come with me tonight? I could show you a fun time.”
“How about you fuck off instead.” Yuqi appears out of nowhere, a deep frown on her face, the drinks in her hand coming down to slam against the table.
The man scoffs, looking more annoyed than frightened. “I don’t think someone like you should be talking like that.”
“And I don’t think someone in their thirties should have a receding hairline, but clearly I was wrong.”
He sneers, standing up from where he’s seated shortening the distance in between them. “Are you crazy?”
“Are you?” She starts, walking closer to him. In most scenarios you’d find your friend’s confrontational attitude inspiring, but right now all you could think about is just how drunk this man is, and just how many things could go wrong.
“Watch your fucking tone,” He stares down at Yuqi. “Bitch.”
You stand up then, trying to deescalate the situation without any hospital trips tonight. Yuqi opens her mouth about to start arguing back, the other people around doing nothing but sitting down in their seats. “Hey, there’s no need for any of this. I have a boyfriend, so if you don’t mind leaving—”
“What and I’m supposed to believe you?” He turns his attention to you. A group of men get up from their seats, quickly grabbing onto the man who you assume is their friend. They refuse to meet your eyes, instead trying to calm the guy down and take him back to where they were seated.
“No fuck no I’m not leaving!” The man shoves his friend off of him. “These two bitches think they’re better than me or something.”
You hope he’s too drunk to notice the way you roll your eyes without thinking. As a bartender you’d seen many aggressive drunks, you knew better not to react spontaneously since they’d only take it as a challenge. You tried to keep your composure, instead turning your attention to Yuqi who had at some point during the dispute, grabbed onto her phone.
You meet eyes with her, mouthing let’s go to her. She nods regretfully, holding back all of her anger on the tip of her tongue. You're about to step around him when he focuses on you. He grabs onto your wrist, “The fuck do you think you’re going?”
You pull your arm away, his grip not tight enough to scare you off. Okay, now you were seriously getting pissed off. “Dont fucking touch me.”
He lets out a deep chuckle, “Why? You seemed like that's all you wanted earlier.”
Call it liquid courage but you felt a sudden surge of anger. All you wanted was good food, fun with a friend, and maybe a booty call at the end of the night not whatever bullshit this guy was on. You were off the clock for fuck’s sake.
You're not even sure when it happens, just the direct aftermath. The man’s on the floor, blood dripping from his nose as you hold onto your hand. Your knuckles red from the contact to his face, more than likely going to leave a bruise. Yuqi’s eyes are wide, and you can tell she’s trying with all of her power to hold back laughing.
The sorry guy is still on the floor, holding his nose and freaking out about the blood as his friends try to stop the bleeding and calm him down. You take that as a sign to leave, smiling and nodding at the crowd who are staring jaws slacked. Yuqi throws a quick few bills on the table before grabbing onto your non injured hand and dragging you outside of the restaurant.
There she finally lets her expression change, her laughs filling the silent outside air. “Oh my fuck—“ She tries to catch her breath. “What the fuck when did you learn to punch like that?”
“I’m a girl who works as a bartender, it’s a safety measure.” You shrug, prompting her to laugh more. You fall into a fit of your own, her contagious cackling promoting you to join. The roads are hardly busy at all, a comforting fact to you when the two of you probably looked insane right now.
She finally steadies her breaths, at the same time a car approaches the side of the road. One that you recognized as Jeno’s. He parks it, stepping outside of the vehicle and directly to the two of you. You suck in a breath, his hands coming to your face as he looks into your eyes with worry.
“What happened? Are you okay?” You open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off. His hand grabbing onto your tender one, the colors barely visible from where the bruises were forming. “Youre hurt.”
“You should’ve seen the other guy!” Yuqi jokes.
Jeno’s eyes darkened. “Where the fuck is he.”
“Neno it’s fine he was just some drunk,” You smile tightly, hoping it’s enough to keep him from doing anything stupid. It’s not.
“It’s not fine. I could hear him through the phone and drunk or not he shouldn’t be talking to anyone like that.”
You couldn’t lie, the way Jeno was acting right now was kind of sexy but this was not what you wanted right now. The situation had been dealt with. You were pretty sure with a punch of that strength you’d at least broken his nose.
“Jeno,” You slide your fingers into his hand, the act more intimate than you realized. He seems caught off guard, closing his own fingers around yours lightly so as to not hurt you more. “I promise, I’m okay.” He sighs, his jaw clenched with everything he’s holding back right now.
“Well,” Yuqi starts. “There’s an obvious connection going on right now.”
You both turn to face the brunette, her smile teasing with a flicker of amusement in her eye. You guessed this was probably the most fun she's had in a while. You expect him to pull away, closing your eyes to brace yourself from the embarrassment. The moment never happens, his hand refusing to let go of you even as he turns to face your friend.
Jeno huffs out a short chuckle, “Hi Yuqi.”
“Hey Jeno! It’s been quite the while.” She looks behind the two of you to a car that pulls onto the side of the road behind Jeno’s. “I wish we could chat longer but unfortunately I do have a flight to catch so..”
“You said you’re staying for a week?”
“Ah,” Yuqi gulps, caught in the lie. “Right well I should start packing early. It was nice seeing you two though, goodbye!”
She's gone the next second, sneaking around the two of you to get into the car. You smile amused by her antics. Jeno doesn’t let go, instead leading you with him towards the car. You follow behind, nothing but the sound of the engine from Yuqi’s mysterious ride fading into the night. He opens the door for you, letting you in and shutting it as he makes his way over to the drivers side.
The ride is full of silence, the traffic lights illuminating Jeno’s face to help you decipher his current mood. He’s unreadable to most, especially when he’s upset. But not to you. Never to you. You knew him like the back of your hand.
You try and come up with something to say when your phone lights up.
Yuqi: Oh he’s down baddddd. He called me to go check on you didnt even say hi just said go check on y/n then said he was on his way and hung up.
I thought it might be best if you wanted to see him so I got a ride lol :P
Text me when you get home tho!
Unless you’re too busy getting busy iykwim ;))))
You shoot out a quick reply, closing the app to open your recent calls. Jeno was at the top of the recents page. You must’ve called him accidentally when that man snuck up to you, no wonder he mentioned hearing the conversation.
That made things much more awkward for you. For one, you had been the one to cancel plans on him. Then after a few drinks you called him, ruining his game because you couldn’t simply get the stranger to fuck off. That must’ve been why he was silent. He was mad at you. The furrow in his brows gave away that much.
“I’m sorry,” you start, “for ruining your night.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, his eyes only barely meeting yours as he continues to drive. “Is that what you think?”
“Isn’t it? I didn’t even mean to call you. I was going to handle it myself.”
He takes a deep breath, “Stop, that's not it.”
“Then what is it? Are you mad you didn’t get to hit him first? Is this like a weird Alpha Male dominance thing?” He chuckles and for some reason that makes you more frustrated. “I’m serious, Jeno. Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad,” he pauses, “Well not in the way you think.”
You lour, “What kind of response is that? Is this some kind of puzzle to solve? Oh great mysterious Jeno, please allow me to discover the truths of why you're angry!”
“I’m not mad,” He stops at a red light, head turning to look at you directly, your own eyes meeting him with slight annoyance. “I-“ He starts again, turning back to the road. “I’m upset. I wish I was there with you and that you wouldn’t have to deal with those poor excuses for men. And it's not that I don’t think you can handle things on your own, it's just that I wish you wouldn’t have to. Call it my ego but I want to be there to prevent shit like that.”
You blush, remorseful for your tone seconds prior. You were jumping to conclusions quite a bit. No, a lot a bit. Jeno wasn’t the type to want to admit how he felt, so you knew it did take him more courage than the average person to open up.
If his pride was hurt doing so then you thought the best option would be to hurt your own back. “If it helps, I was upset at you earlier too.” You can see his brow raise slightly. “I texted you mostly cause Yuqi mentioned you used to hook up with her roommate. If it’s like an ego thing, I guess technically I’m the same.”
“Miyeon?”
You wince at the name. “Sure.”
You weren’t aware of when the two of you made it to your apartment, just that suddenly you were in the familiar dark garage, cars parked all around the grey space. He turned the key, his car turning off as the two of you stayed quiet.
“Miyeon was just a fling, I didn’t tell you because it was over as quickly as it began.”
You refuse to move a muscle. You couldn’t explain why the thought still bugged you but it did. “Okay.” You say, and you're reaching for your seat belt when his hand stops you.
“I’m serious, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”
You knew that was true. The two had probably gone about their life without acknowledging each other. Jeno probably even lost track of her within the list of girls he’d already been with. For some reason the thought bugs you.
You shake it off, “I know, Neno. It’s okay, it was just a lapse in judgment.”
He nods, refusing to look away from you. You're not sure when he removed his own seat belt but he did, because suddenly his hands moved to remove your own. Your heart was pounding, his breath featherlight against you, raising the hairs on your arms.
He pulls away slightly, looking into your eyes for any words you left unspoken, all of which he’d taken right from your mouth. Speaking of, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, the overwhelming urge to pull him closer taking over your entire being. He must get the memo, because with his next move he’s cupping your face and kissing you.
The kiss is not at all like the ones you’d had before. Where those before were pure adrenaline, his lips met yours with an apology. Slow and gentle. His tongue grazed your bottom lip like he couldn’t get enough of you. And when you were about to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.
“Goodnight, Princess.”
You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. Was he insane? You snapped out of whatever daze you’d been in, facing him. He was already turning the car back on.
Wow so he really is insane.
You scoff, about to get up and out of this car and block him on every app to ever exist when you stop yourself. You bring your legs up onto the seat, hooking your hand under his seat to slide it further away from the wheel.
“What are you doing?”
You ignore him, and once there’s enough space between you move over, hopping onto his lap. His hands hold your waist on instinct. “It’s bad manners to leave a girl hanging after kissing her like that.”
He smiles mockingly, “Like what?”
You bring your hand up, mimicking the way he held onto you. “Like it hurt you to pull away.”
“Maybe it did,” He whispers, one more word and his lips would be touching yours. You aren’t sure who made the move, just that all of a sudden you were both on each other once again, this time with a sense of urgency.
His hand slid into your shirt, fingers trailing up your spine to push you closer to him. The action only fueled your hunger more, you kissed him harder. It was possessive, like you wanted to leave a mark on him, one that told him that for now he was yours. You rolled your hips once, the two of you sucking in a breath in sync at the feeling.
He pulled away, his chest heaving. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.” You knew him well enough now to know he was trying desperately to come up with an excuse. Why he was, you weren’t sure.
“Why not?” You ask, taking a moment to give him time to think. He didn’t answer. Feigning innocence you grinded your hips down once again. His jaw clenched, a tell sign that he was holding back, redness creeping up his face. “Nobody’s around.”
“I don’t have condoms in here.”
You shrug, condoms were the last of your worries right now. “I don’t mind it as long as you don’t.”
His gaze darkens, a smile creeping onto his face. “Is that what you want?”
More like what you needed. If he didn’t dick you down right at this moment you would probably just end up getting yourself off then going to bed frustrated. There really was no comparing your own smaller fingers to his thick ones, and even your pussy was starting to tell the difference.
You nod and that’s enough for him to curse a fuck it and bring his mouth to yours. This time it was all teeth and tongue. Nothing but pure fervency to consume every part of each other. You let out a gasp as he slips his fingers under your skirt, dragging them against the damp fabric.
“You’re so wet baby,” He pulls away, whispering against your sensitive neck. “Is this all for me?” You nod, wishing for nothing more but him to fill you up already. He clicks his tongue, “Come on Princess we’ve talked about this before, use your words.”
“Yes, since you sent that picture of you.” You ramble. You think it would probably be best if you were shot dead at the moment. What was that one animal that gets so embarrassed that it just dies on the spot called?
He chuckles, finding your confession flattering. “Then I shouldn’t tease you any longer.” He says before sliding your panties to the side and shoving two long fingers in you at once. The squeeze is tight, but in all of the right ways. You whine, grinding down on them to feel them hit deeper.
“Fuck,” He says, fixated on the way you squeeze around his digits. “Use my fingers to get yourself off.” You waste no time listening, riding them slowly as he watches. You’re biting onto your lip, holding back sounds as much as possible because technically you both were still in a public area, as silent as it was.
He kisses you, swallowing every single one of your sounds. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime, hyperaware of every action. You feel him slide another finger in, curling them against you barely grazing your g-spot. You bite down against his lip, offering a poor apology as he hisses, your orgasm approaching rapidly.
Jeno doesn’t reply, instead he uses his mouth to trail against your neck making sure to leave bruises around the sensitive skin. You’ve given up on holding back any sounds, your moans building up just as your climax is, and right as you’re about to finish Jeno bites down on your skin. You cry out loud, the pain and pleasure meshing into one, a tear sliding down your cheek.
He pulls his fingers out, a whine falling from your mouth from the loss. “Color?” He asks, his pupils dilated as you look at him.
“Green.”
“Good, I knew you could take it.” He slides the waistband of his sweatpants down, pumping his cock twice.
“You didn't wear anything under?”
He shakes his head, “Had to hold myself back from fucking you the second you started grinding against me.”
You laugh, “You should’ve just done it.”
“Stay quiet and I will.”
“Okay,” You take the challenge, sliding your panties down your thighs and hovering over his dick. You don't give him any time, sinking down on him in one full go. You bite down on your lip to keep yourself from groaning. He’s breathing heavily holding back his own sounds. “That goes for you too.”
His arms come up to guide you, helping lift until it’s only the tip before sinking down again. Nothing but heavy gasps of air and low curses slipping from you both. There was nothing like a fun challenge, trying your hardest to hold back your moans while simultaneously trying to get the other to slip up.
As he continues to pound into you, you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, the slight sting of the mascara in your eyes from your earlier tears. You made a note to buy yourself a sex proof one soon. Jeno’s trying his hardest to stay composed, but you can tell how good he feels with the way his fingers dig into your skin.
“Fuck.” He gives in, lifting you fully on his own and setting a harsher pace. You can feel him hit directly against you. You gasp, using your hand to cover your mouth and try to keep silent. It’s no use, from the angle you feel him even deeper, moans coming out of you as the pressure in your stomach signals your release.
“Neno– mmh. fuck—“
You shout, louder than you meant to, your legs aching with how much they were being put to use. You swear you notice a twinge of mischief in his eyes. The next second he’s bringing the same hand that was just inside you to your mouth. “Open.”
You do, still managing to taste yourself as he swirls his fingers around your tongue. He pulls them away, a string of saliva breaking away as he uses his thumb to tilt your head down. He traces your bottom lip, slightly bringing you closer. Then when you think he’s going to kiss you senseless again, he spits into your mouth.
“I told you princess, keep it down.” He whispers, thrusting into you with no remorse. You can feel yourself about to come undone.
“Neno I’m gonna—“
“I know baby, me too.” You can hear it in his rough voice. “Cum with me.”
With one last thrust you’re orgasm hits you, fast and heavy. He curses, filling you up with his seed. You whine, it’s the first you’d ever let a man finish inside you and damn had you been missing out. Any attempt of speaking is cut short, you’re brain is too fucked out to process anything. Instead you fall forward, curling into his neck that’s damp with sweat that is a little gross but mostly comforting.
“You smell familiar.”
He laughs, his hand scratching your scalp, you hum. “It’s your shampoo.”
“I fucking knew it.” You pout, not daring to move from his hold. The two of you stay that way. Curled up against one another in complete silence. You’re fighting your sleep, you had been the second he started scratching you. His low breathing isn’t helping either.
“We can’t stay like this forever,” His whispers, yet makes no choice to move. And even though you knew what he meant, your mind couldn’t help but picture different scenarios.
Was that what he would tell his other hookups?
Did he warn them before they became too attached?
You shove the idea down, refusing to think it over. He was oblivious to your sudden concerns with your face hidden away from him. You suck in a breath, the light lavender scent of your shampoo hitting your nose with an underlying musk from Jeno himself. You should say something. It wasn’t abnormal to be curious about his past arrangements. You open your mouth, closing it just as quickly.
“I know.” You say instead and you swear you can hear his heart pound a bit faster when you do, but just as you shoved down your own thoughts earlier, you do the same now.
☆ 🎸☆
For a long time there was nothing Jeno loved more than performing on stage.
He was destined to make music. He knew it from a young age. Cemented by his aunt who had gifted him a drum set as a kid. His mom had only further encouraged him, he was the one to take on her love for music, even if it was through a different instrument or way of expressing.
During every stage his heart was pounding with adrenaline, never becoming exhausted and instead waiting for his next cue. It fueled him, every slam of his drumsticks, the vibration felt throughout his entire body, and of course as he grew older he only became more confident in his abilities. He felt it every time he was on stage, a smile growing on his face as each song came.
The growing fan base wasn’t something he ever prioritized. He didn’t make music to become famous and make money, hell he was the son of some of the most known and respected people in their fields. You would make jokes about his nepotism, and maybe if the guys had any clue who he was before he joined then that would’ve been the case, but none of it mattered anyway.
Now suddenly, he wanted to show them the best of him. That meant being himself at his core, and what better way was there to show that side of him than drumming?
Oblivion were finishing up their last song, the sound of the fans screaming crescendoed as Donghyuck’s low nasally voice rang out the final verse. Jeno’s heart was going one hundred miles a minute, pure ecstasy flowing through his body. Then within a half second, he blinked and suddenly his smile had nothing to do with the crowd and the energy they had been radiating all night that directly translated into his performance. No, this time he pictured you, in all of your glory.
The song came to an end. The crowd made sure to be the loudest they were the whole night, one particular high pitched squeal pulling him from his own thoughts. He rolled his eyes at Jaemin who was winking at a fan that resulted in another scream. He dragged him off of the stage, following the rest of the group as they walked back to their shared waiting room.
“Great show out there,” Darling cheered, specifically running into Jisung’s arms to give him a quick peck. The action made Jeno slightly envious in a way he’d never felt before by the couple’s frequent pda. “I swear there were way more people in attendance than any other show!”
“Thanks Darling,” Jaemin smiles. “You might just be our good luck charm.”
Jisung visibly deflates at the usage of his nickname for his girlfriend, pulling at her waist to keep her close like Jaemin would snatch her at any second. Jaemin was only messing around, he’d confessed to Jeno a few months ago that he loved how Jisung’s face scrunched up when he was annoyed, so he made it a mission to piss him off as much as possible.
“Yeah Jisung is more focused than ever,” Donghyuck smirks, “unless we count the time he was busy getting his dick sucked before we had to go up on stage.”
“That’s not what happened!” The couple shout in unison, matching shades of red in their face. Jeno was sure the group would never let them live that down.
Mark laughs. “Well we should be staying here for one night only, remember not to end up so drunk that you sleep through hotel maintenance pounding on your door so hard they assume you died.”
“It happened one time.” Donghyuck groans.
“And it won’t happen again, you and Jaemin are sharing a room tonight.”
“What? Hello, way to be a cockblock, Mark. I was planning on going out tonight.” The implication that he was bringing someone back to the hotel was clear.
“Not my problem,” Mark sighs out before turning to Jeno. “You’re staying a few days longer, right?”
“Yeah, I'm gonna spend the weekend with my parents.”
“Nice, have fun.”
“Then what about you, Mark? You just got a room to yourself?” Donghyuck pouts.
“Yep,” Mark answers honestly, "gives me time away from you guys.”
Darling laughs, "Don't worry, the nahyuck fans will love it.”
“What the fuck is that?”
“Aww,” Jaemin coos, his arm wrapping around Donghyuck’s shoulder, “We have our own ship name!”
Donghyuck looks like the revelation is causing him physical distress. Jeno takes that as a cue to leave before the two start fighting because once they started it was hard to stop them.
“Youre not going out with us at least?” Jisung asks, his fingers intertwined with his girlfriend's, a soft smile on his face that Jeno never saw from him until the two of them reconnected. He was happy for his friend, he always did wish the best for them all, and for people like Jisung and even Jaemin, he knew as much as they contradicted it with their past or current actions. They wanted love most of all. So seeing Jisung as he was now, so open and honest with his feelings was relieving for the most part. Though on one hand it did open a can of worms he was actively avoiding paying any mind to.
He could tell the guys were growing a bit curious. He wasn’t spending much time at the apartment, opting to spend the night at yours instead. A privilege you weren’t aware of that none of his past hookups ever got. Once again, a can of worms he really didn’t want to open.
“Nah not tonight.”
Jisung raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask anything. With that, Jeno’s saying a quick goodbye, making his way out of the door as Donghyuck and Jaemin start one of their petty arguments.
Jeno had to give his parents credit, as much as his parents were busy, they always made sure to provide their children with only the best of the best. That included hiring Miss Kim, their personal chef, to make the best meals for their children.
He sat at the kitchen table, plates of breakfast being served as his Mom read the morning newspaper, his father sitting next to her and feeding her some of the washed grapes that Miss Kim had brought earlier. Jeno felt a twinge in his chest at the sight, covering it up with a quick cough as if anyone around would notice it.
“Is Seulgi here yet?”
His mom sets the paper down, “She’s late, overslept after a late engagement party her friend, what's her name?”
“Joy.” His father answers, feeding her another grape.
“Right. I think She's set to be one of her bridesmaids.”
Jeno nods. Miss Kim is setting his plate down in front of him, he mouths a thank you receiving a quick smile and bow before Miss Kim heads back to the kitchen.
“Speaking of which,” Mrs Lee sits up, eyeing Jeno with a mischievous expression as he digs his spoon into the side bowl of rice. “You aren’t coming alone, right?”
Jeno smiles smug, “Are you implying I bring back Jaemin?”
Jeno had invited Jaemin to a family gathering of his about two years ago. His mother was not immune to his charms, taking a liking to his carefree and confident way of speaking. She was adamant on setting him up with Seulgi until she had came out. And even though both parents were very supportive, Jeno had a feeling that his mother hadn’t yet given up on her dream of having Jaemin as a son in law. Though her target had shifted to Jeno.
“No actually, though im not opposed to inviting him. I’ve already told your cousin all about him.” That explained the consistent texts from her. “I just think it would be nice if you brought someone back home with you. Show her around a bit. How about that friend of yours you mentioned? Y/N is it?”
He almost spat out his food, choking it down instead to which his father passed him his handkerchief. He grabbed onto it, coughing until they finally died down.
“I’m not too sure ive mentioned her before,” He finally answers.
“Oh if not you then, perhaps Seulgi?”
Jeno has to hold back from groaning. There was a time where he and his sister went out for drinks, she had introduced herself to you and the night ended with you and her exchanging numbers. Clearly he wasnt aware that you both had stayed in contact since then, he’d definitely be asking you about that soon. “Yes, perhaps.”
“She told us about her, mentioned shes a very sweet girl.” His mom’s smile widens. “I’d like to meet her.”
He hums, praying for any possible distraction to appear. The sounds of rushed footsteps approaching from none other than Seulgi herself. “Sorry I’m late!” She says, taking a seat next to Jeno. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing.” Jeno says at the same time his mother says, “Did you invite Jeno’s friend to your wedding?”
Seulgi pauses for a moment, “Jaemin?”
“Y/N.”
“Ah,” Seulgi smiles a thank you at Miss Kim who brought her a serving, “I assumed he was going to bring her on his own.”
“Never just assume with a man,” Mrs Lee sighs. “Jeno, I hope you can consider it.”
It’s not that Jeno refused to consider inviting you. It’s just that, his mom could be kind of stubborn. If you were to come by and she grew to like you then she’d automatically assume that you and him were meant to be together. And Jeno had a feeling she would like you, there was nobody in the world who wouldn’t.
The last thing Jeno wanted was to make you uncomfortable by introducing you to his family, meeting Seulgi was enough, and you end up running away scared. On the other hand, you were someone important to him, so what was the difference of introducing you to his family when he’s introduced Jaemin before.
“I’ll talk to her about it,” Jeno says finally. His mom, grinning happily, is about to reply when he continues. “But I'm not going to force her. If she doesn’t want to, then she doesn’t have to.”
“Well of course not,” Seulgi punches his shoulder lightly, “We’re not expecting you to kidnap her. Although considering the book drafts she’s shown me, I don’t think she’d mind it.” She jokes. Jeno’s eyes widen, and a part of him is scared that his parents might have heard, but when he turns to see them both in their own world he knows they didn’t.
Then again, there’s that familiar sting of envy. Only this time he can’t blame it on the overdone PDA from Jisung and Darling, now it’s from his own parents. His parents wore their hearts on their sleeve constantly, and never hid their love from anyone. He’d grown used to it years ago, so what changed now?
Something must be severely wrong with me.
☆ 📚 ☆
Things are the worst they could ever be. Okay that was dramatic but it was what you felt like in the moment. For starters you had a suspicious feeling you were growing sick, you sneezed way more than the average amount of times a person sneezes today. Then second of all, you were drawing blanks both literally and physically.
You had been sitting in front of your laptop for what felt like hours, and absolutely nothing would pop up. There was also another issue, one you didn’t want to speak aloud to anyone other than the incognito mode on your safari search. You felt pent up. Something that you didn’t even know could happen with two days of abstinence, but unfortunately it could.
It was like you were going crazy, you’d lasted years without sex so why did two days suddenly feel like eternity. Your head missed Jeno a lot, but your body did so much more. Especially late at night, like right now that you were in the darkness of your room with only the bedside lamp to illuminate the space around you. You tried to get off, maybe that could help with your writer's block in some weird kinky way. It was no use.
Not even scrolling Twitter videos could save you. You tried to sleep it off, perhaps a break would help. But the longer you laid down in complete darkness the more insatiable you became.
And then there was the bright idea. Jeno was a night owl, perhaps he was awake right now? You blushed in the dark room, there was no way you were even considering sexting him while he was spending quality family time. No you couldn’t stoop so low.
You flopped onto your right side, squeezing your eyes shut to clear your mind. Only instead your mind began playing tricks on you, images of Jeno’s body flashing through your mind like they were stored in a hard drive from your brain. You visualized the curve of his muscles, the definition and ridges of his back muscles that you hooked your nails into when he drilled into you so—
Oh gosh. You were seriously thinking about Jeno like that right now. This couldn’t be right, right? Your body seemed to think differently, with the way you felt your panties begin to dampen from your arousal.
You took a deep breath, snatching your phone from the charging cable on your desk and opening your message tab with Jeno.
Princess: Are you awake?
His typing pops up faster than you’d expected. You were hoping that he wouldn’t reply, then you could call it a night and pretend this never happened.
Neno: Yeah. Can’t sleep?
Princess: Not really…
You’re about to chicken out, your finger hovers over the do not disturb button when your familiar ringtone, one of Oblivion's earliest songs, blasts out of your phone. You jump, sliding the answer button.
“Hello?” Your voice comes out way more weak than you intended, and mentally you’re beating yourself up about it.
“Hey,” His voice hits you like a truck. The deep timbre sliding down your spine in a way that makes your body react on its own, goosebumps raising on your skin. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing I–“ Just miss you. It’s funny how now the tables have turned. “Can’t sleep.”
He hums, and you can hear him shifting on the other side, perhaps trying to get comfortable. “Do you want to talk?”
You wanted more than talking but maybe that was being too greedy. “Yeah, tell me about how the show went.”
He pauses for a second, “Went great, fans seemed to enjoy it a lot. Spent the rest of the day with my family.”
“Oh,” You forgot that he mentioned a breakfast date with his family. Your family was far too busy for those kinds of gatherings so it was a bit surprising but sweet. “How was that?”
“Not bad, it was nice seeing them with how long it’s been.”
“Can you tell me more?”
He chuckles, “Like what?”
“Anything. What about that game you play, how's that going?”
There’s another pause, and for a moment you feel like you’ve been caught. “Princess.”
The nickname goes straight to your core, your thighs pushing together on instinct. “Yeah?” You reply, voice weaker than you meant it to come out.
“Why are you awake right now?”
“I- I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Right,” He pauses again, and you missed the way his voice deepened. “How can I help you with that baby?”
You suck in a breath, a curse slipping from your lips. You swear you can hear him smile through the phone. “Come on, tell me what you need.”
“I need you.”
You can hear him move around again, your chest tightening with how honest you were. You meant it in more ways than one, but there was no time to dwell on it now.
“Why don’t you let me hear how true that is?”
“Like right now?” You squeak out, suddenly embarrassed.
He chuckles, “Or is that not why you called me?”
“I don’t know what you mean—“ “Princess. Never in a million years have you asked me about my games.”
“What if I wanted to change that?”
“You’re stalling.” He states, “If you’re shy you don’t have to be, your voice alone made me crazy the second you picked up.”
His honesty scares you a bit, but it also gives you room to relax. “Do I have that effect on you?”
“More than one.” You take a shallow breath, and he definitely notices it. “Are you gonna be a good girl and spread your legs for me?”
There’d be no way for him to know if you were really following his instructions, but with how needy you were you made sure to do it anyway. Sliding your fingers past your bellybutton and tracing the light fabric.
“Tell me, just how wet are you for me?”
“Fuck–“ You clench around nothing. “Since earlier. I couldn’t sleep without thinking of you.”
“Is that why you texted? Were you just waiting for me to call you to use my voice and get yourself off?”
“N-no I didn’t know you’d call.”
He hums mockingly, “Really? Then what were you going to do? Give up and wait for me to get back home to fuck you? His words were harsh. For some reason it was working for you, a wave of want rushing through your veins. “Or maybe, you were going to go out and find someone else to do the job?
“No Neno I wouldn’t,” You plead, “I only want you.”
“Fuck,” He whispers Beasley audible through how fast your heart was beating. “Then use my voice, and I’ll make sure to fuck you good tomorrow as an apology.”
You take that as a promise, your hand slipping down into your panties, fingers gliding across the folds of your wet cunt. You gasp, “Fuck Neno I’m so wet.”
“Yeah baby?” He grunts, and the familiar sound only drives you crazier. “Go ahead, slide a finger in.”
You do as he commands, your pussy squeezing around the digit. Only there’s no relief, you were used to Jeno’s long thick fingers, yours were nothing in comparison. “It's not enough.” You cry, desperately wishing he was there.
“Shh,” he coos you. “It’s okay baby, come on just imagine it’s me.”
You slid another finger in, it wasn't long enough, but it would have to do for now. You rocked your hips, slowly fucking yourself with your fingers, your panties pushed to the side as the wet squelches filled the room.
“Fuck I can picture how tight you are,” he groans through the phone and youre barely registering now just how quiet he’s trying to make his own voice. “Youre taking my fingers so well huh?”
“Fuck Neno please.” You whine, scissoring yourself to fit another finger in.
For a moment all that can be heard is the heavy breathing through the phone. The two of you are trying to keep as quiet as possible. You register it then, the wet slide of him on the other side. You’re not sure how you missed it. He was jacking himself off as you got off to his voice.
“Neno.” You call out his name.
“Yes, princess?” He stutters through the line.
“I’m ready for you now.”
He laughs at being caught. “Yeah? You gonna be able to take it?”
You nod like he could see you, “just please fuck me already.”
“Alright then,” he plays along. “Spread your legs for me more baby.”
Your eyes are shut, visualizing him over you, his hand gripping your leg harsh to keep them from shutting. You slide a third finger into your cunt, it wasn't close to his girth but it would have to do at the moment. You clenched around them, imagining your fingers were his cock instead, filling you up so good. “Neno–ngh fuck youre so big.”
“You can fit me baby, you know why?” His voice is low. “cause that pretty pussy of yours was made for me.”
You moan, setting a strict pace to match his own through the phone. The light sounds of his breathing getting heavier with every thrust of his hand. You could imagine him now, he’d probably be biting his lips to hold back his noises, trying to keep quiet from his family who were only a few rooms over. Your stomach tightens, your release approaching quicker than it would when it was just you to get yourself off.
“I’m close.”
“Me too,” He replies. “You gonna let me cum inside you again? Fill up your needy cunt?”
“Fuck yes Neno—” You scream out, your orgasm washing over you in the next second. Your fingers are cramping up, continuously thrusting inside you to help milk out your orgasm.
He grunts a bit louder, calling out your name from what you can assume is from him reaching his own climax. You keep your phone close to you, your breaths evening out. Your legs felt like jelly, the energy you’d had before dissipating. The tiredness from the time being four in the morning finally hitting you.
“Baby?” Jeno called out. You hummed low, using what was left of your energy to do so. He chuckles through the line, having realized that you were seconds away from knocking out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”
You don’t even remember if you answered or not, only that the call ended. Your breaths fall into an even rhythm as you drift off to sleep.
Part three:
Do I wanna know?
☆ 🎸☆
Call Jeno what he was. A simp, a manwhore, a little bitch. That one was specifically from an angry Donghyuck whom he had declined going out with for the fifth time in a row to see you today. He’d gotten back from his parents house, and assuming how early he woke up to drive back into town he wasn’t surprised you were still sleeping. You had a habit of a minimum of twelve hours a night and he’d taken up most of those last night at four in the morning.
He blushed slightly at the memory. You hadn’t answered, which would’ve worried anyone in his situation if he didn’t know you well enough to know that you were probably busy writing like your life depended on it after gaining a surge of inspiration.
He gripped onto the plastic bag in hand. He stopped by the convenience store for some of your favorite ramen. Nothing else, truthfully, the pack of condoms had somehow made their own way into his bag. “Y/N!” He opened your front door, being sure to lock it behind him.
The apartment was unusually silent, safe for the meows coming from Meowy who greeted Jeno by rubbing against his feet. He cooed at the cat before making his way over to your kitchen to set the bag on the counter. “I brought you some noodles! Oh and they had a discount on the condoms so I thought why not!”
You didn’t answer. He frowned, looking out at the front door he’d just come from to spot your shoes in their place. You were home, so were you just sleeping in?
He walked over to your bedroom, knocking a few times. A low groan sounding through the door followed by a “Come in.”
He opened the door, the darkness of the room enveloping you as you laid in bed, Your body curled in itself like you’d exhausted all energy for the rest of the year. He frowned, approaching you with soft footsteps. Your eyes met his with a squint.
“Princess?” He called your name, to which he immediately regretted the second your lips started wobbling.
“Neno I’m sorry,” your eyes began to water.
He panics, sitting on the corner of the bed to get closer to you. “Hey, what's wrong?” He feels a slight panic from seeing you like this, it’s not the first time he’d seen you cry but it wasn’t a sight he’d see often.
“I didn’t want to text anyone and I know I said I wanted you bit then I woke up and it was like a crime scene everywhere and I spent the whole morning washing the sheets but then my washer broke so I hand cleaned it all and these cramps are seriously going to kill me—“
“Hey it’s okay,” Jeno cuts you off, his thumb wiping the tear threatening to fall from your eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing,” You reply bashfully, “Ugh I’m so annoying I always get so sad on my period. It’s gross.”
“It’s not gross.” He replies in an instant.
“Youre right it’s just human nature or whatever,” you sigh, wiping at your own eyes and sitting up. He reaches forward, his warm hand wrapping around your waist to stop you. “Hey it’s okay, I can go. Just get some rest.”
You pouted, “But I don’t want you to go.”
He smiled, “Okay, I won’t.”
Jeno wasn't sure how much time had passed like this. Just that as soon as you could you had cuddled into him. Something about his natural body warmth being the perfect temperature to help your cramps, so he held onto you, your breaths eventually evening out into sleep.
He didn’t even bother to grab his phone, instead just staring at you like some creep. He was grateful no one else was there to call him out on it though. After a few minutes, you shifted. Your head peaked up from where it laid flat on his chest.
“Sorry did I trap you?” You mumbled the question, sleep still evident in your voice.
“No, it was pretty comfortable actually. You're like a sloth kind of.”
You rolled your eyes, laying your head down again. “You look like one.”
“Rude, and after I canceled plans with Donghyuck to come see you.” Jeno was only joking, he would’ve declined plans with Donghyuck even if he didn’t come to see you.
“Sorry again,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”
He scoffs playfully, “Hey I’m your friend before anything else.” He’s not sure why it felt so icky to say it but he continues, “I don’t need sex just to want to see you.”
You blush at his words, hiding your face deeper into his chest. “Yeah well, you're the first guy I’ve ever met like that.”
Jeno wasn't sure of most of your dating history, he wasn't the type to just ask but now he couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “Have you dated men like that?”
“Not dated, I’m not one for a relationship.” He knew that. The two of you had related plenty, but now he was itching to know more about you.
“Is there a reason?”
“No, not particularly at least.” You stir, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling filled with the tiniest glow in the dark stars that had been there for years. “I mean for some time I did want that, but then I lost my virginity and I guess I realized that love isn’t something that happens in real life.”
There’s not a single ounce of pain in your voice. “I held it off for the longest time, save for love kind of thing. Then in college I ended up sleeping with a crush and really it didn't live up to any expectations. The guy hardly even acknowledged me at all except for my body.”
Jeno scowled, the stupidity of men would be their demise. He could understand why women wanted nothing to do with them, there were plenty of fish in the sea sure, but just how many were the parasitic kind that drained the life out of women.
“It was alright I guess, led me to now. And congrats, you're the only man to actually care enough to make sure I finish.” You joke, though there’s an underlying embarrassment in your voice. One that he catches quickly.
“Do you regret it?” He asks. No malice in his words, just pure curiosity.
You shrug, “I guess I regret that it wasn’t like the books I write. There was no attentiveness, just impulsivity. If I could’ve then I would’ve wanted my first time to be with someone I could fully trust, someone who would treat me carefully knowing it was my first.”
He nods, though you don’t notice it at all. There’s too many things running through his head. You deserved better, even now you deserved the best. He wanted for you to fall in love just like the stories you wrote. The uneasy heartbeats, the anxiousness of not knowing if your feelings were reciprocated, then eventually the love confession that brought on a happy ending.
You deserved it more than anyone in the world.
“But it’s already passed so it’s nothing to dwell on,” You say, sitting up. “Now how about the ramen you brought?”
Jeno knows better than to argue, offering a smile instead.
“Coming right up.”
☆ 📚 ☆
The rest of your week had gone about as well as it could while you were on your period. You of course had to show up to work, despite the cramps and lower back aches, keeping a smile on throughout your shift while experiencing some of the worst discomfort ever.
The only way you survived was because of the pain killers Yuqi had given you and the take out from the restaurant down the street. Jeno hadn’t stopped by as often as you hoped. He told you that Mark was becoming more strict with practice as the group went viral for the third time in the month. You had seen a couple of videos, more recently one that was a q&a with Jeno. You had already known every answer of his, so anyone who considered themselves Jeno fans could suck it.
Speaking of which, he had also told you to hurry home tonight, which you figured was because he finally had time to visit. Your spirits were lifted now, you only hoped it wasn't so obvious as you left work to head straight home.
You squeaked open the door, expecting Meowy to meet you the way she always did with everyone who’d set foot into the apartment. Instead, you were met with a floor full of rose petals, candles (not real ones of course that was a fire hazard), lining up the hallway into your kitchen that was fully decorated with more roses and dinner plates. Your heart skipped a beat, the thought of an intruder stopping by and setting up all of this as a passing thought until you met eyes with Jeno.
He stood wearing a black buttoned up top tucked into the jeans he had on. It was casual enough that you didn’t feel underdressed, having come home straight from work in jeans and a basic tank top you’d put under your work uniform.
“Hey.” He beamed, the same puppy-like way that you were used to but somehow now made your heart feel like it could burst any second.
You freeze for a moment. “What is all of this?”
“Dinner. Oh don’t worry, this is a recipe my family cook taught me how to make so it should be edible.” He jokes, grabbing onto your hand to lead you to your seat. You sit down, overwhelmed by the burst of emotions flowing through your chest, he sits ahead of you.
“Japchae?” He nods. “I would’ve cooked up something like steak but I thought maybe this was a safe bet.”
You pause for a moment, only this time he must notice the shift in your demeanor. “Are you okay?” He asks, a slight tone of fear in his voice, he must’ve thought you were upset.
“I’m just I don’t understand,” You say finally. “Why all of this for me?”
He doesn’t take a single second to think about it, “Because you deserve it.”
“But I'm not- I've never even had a date treat me like this,” You stammer.
He chuckles a response. “Y/N, because I wanted to. How’s that for a reason?”
You still don’t understand it fully. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, the previous being your mother who gifted you a custom typewriter for your sixth birthday, only this made zero sense. It wasn’t even your birthday.
There must be a hint of hesitance he picks up on, because in a second his hand is over yours in a comforting gesture. “If it helps, think of this as part of our rules. I’m trying to give you inspiration.”
Right, of course. That made perfect sense, why else would Jeno have gone all of his way to set up such a nice dinner like this. You offer a small smile, nodding as you reach for your chopsticks. “Okay, then let’s not let this go to waste.”
Jeno smiles, relieved.
Dinner went well as soon as the alcohol was brought out. One glass was enough to make your nerves disappear , the conversation between you stirring from small gossip he’d learned from Jaemin’s loud mouth to early memories the two of you remember from the first years of your friendships.
The japchae was more than just great you came to find out. Jeno could seriously have become a world class chef if he didn’t stick to his career now, speaking of which had only become way more demanding than ever. But he was happy, and you were even happier than he was. The man was a once in the lifetime talent, he deserved all of the love and recognition in the world.
“Neno,” you said suddenly. “It’s getting pretty late.”
He hums, “Yeah I’ll clean up and I can g—“
“No!” You scream shutting him up. “Stay. Please.”
He laughs, “Okay princess.”
“I’ll be back, just–” You’re suddenly shy, avoiding any eye contact with him. “I’m going to go clean up a bit, maybe after we can cuddle or something.” You hope he doesn’t make you explain more and just gets the memo. Luckily, he grins knowingly. “I’ll be back!” You shout as you run towards the bathroom.
You were never the shy type, but as you step outside of the shower, you feel an overwhelming amount of anxiousness. You slipped into a loose fitting shirt. One Jeno had left behind. He was lying down in your bed, scrolling on his phone until you entered. Jeno’s eyes turn to you, discarding whatever he’d been watching on his phone and sitting up straight on the edge of your bed.
“You’re wearing my shirt,” he states with an expression that you could only describe as want, though it didn’t feel fitting enough.
“I hope that’s okay,” you answer, approaching him until you’re right where he sits. His hand comes up, brushing your cheek. You shiver despite his hand being warm and inviting.
“You’re breathtaking.”
You blush at the compliment, pulling his hand away from your face to move it to your hips, climbing on top of him swiftly. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me—“
“Not for that, for everything else.”
“I meant it when I said you deserve it.”
You lean in, his breath catching as your lips connect to his. There’s a subtle desperation in the way he kisses back, where most of your kisses were fervent, this one was full of something more. No fight for dominance but rather a way of expressing your gratitude.
Jeno tugs at his shirt, lifting it off of your body. “Can I?” He asks, earning a nod from you before he’s flipping you onto the mattress. You’re laid completely bare, at least figuratively with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s undressing you with his eyes alone.
You have barely a second to catch your breath, Jeno’s lips trailing over your breasts as he unclasps your bra. You shudder, your chest laid naked as the cool air hits you.
“Fuck– Neno.” You moan as he takes your left breast into his mouth, his tongue flat over the sensitive nub. His hand comes up, palming your right breast, his thumb circling against your nipple.
You’re only growing needier with every second, every lick sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away, and you take the opportunity to pull him in for another kiss, this one heavier than the last. You button his shirt while he’s distracted, pulling it down and discarding it to the floor.
Jeno’s breathless as he pulls away, his eyes full of want. “Can I taste you?”
You nod, and he’s kissing you again. His hand moving to slide your panties off. He reacts in an instant, leaving kisses down your stomach until he’s face to face with your needy cunt.
His breath fanning over your folds, driving you insane with every second he spends refusing to take action. “Please,” you whine. He snaps out of whatever haze he’d been in, his tongue tracing against your folds that leaves you panting.
Your legs fight to close, his hand keeping them stretched open enough for him to continue lapping at your juices in peace. You call his name, moans growing louder as he presses closer against you, his nose pressing against your clit.
Your hands are moving before you can stop them, reaching out to tug on his hair. He moans into your pussy, the sound traveling through you evoking you to moan.
You cry out, twitching around his tongue as he begins to fuck you with the muscle. Your juices mixed with his spit sliding down his chin in a beautiful mess.
His name trails off of your lips like a melody. The sound meshing with the loud squelches of him devouring you. He pulls away, substituting his tongue for his digits.
“Oh my– nghh Neno—“ You can feel tears threatening to spill. The pace of his fingers fucking you rough as he sucks your clit. He continues to fuck his fingers into you, curling them to hit your pleasure point directly. Your legs squeezing around his head as you cum with one last cry of his name.
He laps up your fluids, his nose pressing against your sensitive clit with how messy he is. “Jeno baby, please,” you beg, the overstimulation getting to you. He doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to lick against your folds until you're dragging him to look at you.
His hair is a mess with how much your hands tugged at the strands. He meets your gaze, his lips and chin wet with you, pupils completely dilated. “I’m sorry baby.”
You shake your head, tugging at him to come back up. When he does you’re kissing him, sucking on his tongue to taste more of yourself. He groans into your mouth, pulling away to let out a gasp. “Fuck.”
Your brows furrow, meeting his eyes where he looks down at himself, a small wet patch visible through his pants. He just came untouched from eating you out. A burst of pride shoots through you, drawing you to kiss at him again.
“You’re so fucking hot, can I please take these off of you?” You ask, batting your lashes.
“When you ask like that, who am I to say no?”
You smile, unbuckling his pants and rushing to rip them off of him like the fabric was life threatening. Your hand palms against him, his size growing with the slightest touch of yours.
He’s holding back a groan when you start sucking at his neck, leaving hickeys on display for everyone to see. For everyone to know that he’s yours.
He helps you take off his boxers, another piece of fabric meeting your floor. He's fully erect, the thick muscle hitting against his abdomen with a slap. Your mouth waters at the sight, taking in his size with your eyes and zeroing in on the thick vein that runs along the shaft.
You suck in a breath, envisioning how nice it would be to feel him inside your mouth, his hand forcing your head down until your gagging as he fucks your face. That would have to do another time, for now, you wanted nothing more but to feel him in your guts.
“You like what you see?”
“Corny.” You answer, earning a chuckle from him before he’s pecking your lips again.
“You love me.”
He says it so casually, yet it still makes you feel weak in the knees. “And other things.”
Jeno lines up to your entrance, knocking your breath out of you as he sinks into you. The squeeze is tight, but it’s not unbearable. He’s giving you a few seconds to adjust until you nod at him to continue.
The first thrust is enough to pull a loud moan from your lips, your hands coming around his back to steady yourself. It’s obscene, his hips slapping against your thighs as he drills into you over and over again.
You can already feel pressure start to build up again, your nails digging into his skin drawing a curse from his lips.
“It feels that good, baby?”
“Neno– please please don’t stop—“
“I won't princess.” He says before fucking into you faster, this time his lips swallowing your moans as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Your body feels light, consumed by the feeling of him. You’re crying, you can taste the saltiness of your tears as he kisses you through it.
He must tell you’re close because his hand goes down to rub against your clit, the circular motion sending you close to the edge.
“Come on princess, let go for me baby.”
With those final words you’re clamping down around him, your orgasm flooding down your thighs only producing a wetter sound as he continues to pistol into you. His thrusts grow sloppier until he’s finally reached his own climax. His cum spurting into you, filling you up.
Your words are barely coherent, voice wrecked with all of the screaming you did. You’d have to bake a few apology cookies and offer them to your unlucky neighbors. Jeno kisses around your face, cooing you until your tears stop, his final kiss being one to your lips.
You open your eyes, his own meeting you with what you could only assume was fear, but quickly disappearing just as it happened shifting to one of… you couldn’t tell.
The previous you who had felt bare had nothing on you now. Because even as Jeno pulled out, his cum dripping down into the sheets, you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach.
Something had changed.
Part Four:
Heart-shaped box
☆ 🎸☆
Jeno was in a funk. Ever since the date he set up he felt insane. Something was different, he knew it deep down. It wasn’t an obvious fact, you had continued to text him like normal, even sending him dress options for the wedding he had sprung onto you so late.
You didn’t mind, casually sending him your finds from shopping trips you went on with Shuhua. He took in a sharp breath every time you sent him a picture, his lungs felt like they would collapse at any moment with how great you looked. Though it was mostly you, even showing up to the wedding with your hand around his arm would provoke that reaction from him.
He imagined it now, you being so close to him as he introduces you to his family. A smile on your face and a light blush because as much as you were a confident speaker you would probably still feel nervous to meet his parents at such an important event.
Jeno got that same weird feeling in his stomach, covering his face so the rest of the guys wouldn’t see.
“Yo are you good” Mark asks, “Your face is all red, you're not sick or anything right?”
“He could be because you can’t help but keep the fucking air conditioner on all through out the night!” Donghyuck argues. Mark rolls his eyes.
“Jeno isn’t sick,” Jaemin moves the back of his hand to check Jeno’s temperature. “Yup not sick.”
“I’m fine guys, really.”
“I don’t think so, you’ve been spacing out a bit lately.” Donghyuck sing songs, “kind of like when Jisung was heartbroken and slumping around like a kicked puppy.”
“I don’t think I was that bad,” jisung replies, earning a “you were” from everyone else.
“Seriously I’m just thinking a lot lately.”
“Wait like really?” That seems to get the group's attention, they get closer, gathering around him like a kettle of vultures.
“You say that like I’m an idiot.”
“An idiot no—“ “debatable.” Donghyuck starts, earning a scowl from Jeno to which he hides behind Mark. “You aren’t one to think about things too much, you're level headed like that.” Jaemin finishes his thought.
“Yeah hyung, so no offense but it’s a once in a lifetime experience to see you act so–“ Jisung contemplates, “so lost.”
Jeno wasn't sure when any of them had caught onto any of that but apparently they did. He really wasn't the type to open up, but there was a time for anything. “Okay yeah, I guess it’s just a lot of changes lately.”
“Go on.”
And so he did. Jeno went on to explain every detail of yours and his arrangement, well the ones that mattered, up until now. The date, the sex, the way he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in a Train going down a different path than he ever expected yet he wasn't even mad about it.
“Oh my gosh,” Jaemin squeals. “I knew you were both meant to be!”
“Great going Jeno, I owe him five dollars now I hope you're happy."
“What?” Jeno asks.
“Jaemin did always say he had a gut feeling that you and Y/N would end up together,” Mark agreed. “That bet lasted shorter than expected though.”
“I think you’re confused,” Jeno starts. “It’s not like that. Me and Y/N are just friends with benefits.”
“Right and the benefits include date nights, home cooked meals, and life altering sex after?” Donghyuck taunts. Jisung makes a look of disgust at the last part.
“As much as I don’t think the last part was necessary,” Donghyuck shrugs. “I do agree. That's not at all what friends with benefits do.”
Jeno isn’t sure what to say. Was he at fault for this sudden shift? It felt like he was, but then again you didn’t seem to act like anything was wrong either. Maybe the guys were being dramatic. Jaemin looks at him like he knows what Jeno is trying to do.
“Answer this one thing,” Jaemin starts. “Do you feel your heart beat a little faster around her?”
Jeno nods.
“And when you think about her. What about then?”
Jeno felt the blood creep up his neck. How the hell would Jaemin be able to tell that.
“Think about it Jeno, it shouldn’t be that hard.”
Jeno frowns. Could he be… no. There’s no way. But then he thinks back to you, your contagious laughs and smiles.
Oh.
“What does this mean now?”
“Well you’ve already got the grand gestures down, loverboy.”
“This time, just add the confession.” Jisung adds.
☆ 📚 ☆
Time had gone by quicker than you’d thought. The continuous dress shopping leading up to this exact moment. You had packed up well, joining Jeno in road-tripping to Jeju island. It consisted mainly of sleeping, singing along to music completely off key, and feeding Jeno snacks while he drove.
You hadn’t felt the subtle shift in the area around each other, not when every time you looked away he made sure to keep his eyes on you until he couldn’t.
The wedding was in the afternoon. A ceremony that would end with a sunset. This made for really good inspiration for the third part in your book series, so you made sure to make a mental note of it.
You changed into your dress, hidden in one of the hotel’s rooms as Jeno got ready with the rest of his immediate family. You felt nervous, the outfit fitting way more exposed than you were used to.
“Y/N! Can I come in?”
“Uh, yes!” Seulgi walks in, a bright smile on her face as she does. “I didn’t think you’d have time to stop by and do anything.”
“Yeah well, I promised Jeno I would check in on you,” She gives you a look over, “You look beautiful.”
You blush, “No of course not, you look great.”
“I do, don’t I.” She does a bit of a twirl, the sleek yet elegant white gown hardly moving except for the flared fabric at the bottom.
You’d never imagined a life of marriage for you, but seeing Seulgi look so bright and happy made you second guess. Perhaps there could be someone to change that? Perhaps even–
“Jeno’s waiting outside. I’m going to go set myself up for pictures before the ceremony begins.” She gives you one last nod. “I’m glad you came.”
You offer a smile in return, “Thank you for inviting me.”
You had unfortunately not been able to catch Jeno before the ceremony began, sitting on the outskirts as the family sat front row to Seulgi, as did her wife’s family in the opposite direction. Jeno had made sure that even with the distance, at any opportunity he would look at you.
Goosebumps rising on your body with the way he looked into your eyes so sure. And with every vow spoken, it almost felt like he meant it to you. You had to take a breath the second it ended, being pulled by one of Jeno’s cousins who had claimed you as her new best friend. She dragged you towards the drinks, offering you a glass of champagne that you held onto.
Beyond the live orchestra that you were sure you would only live to see once in your lifetime, there was nothing but cheers for the happy couple. You were a bit too invested to have noticed Jeno sneak behind you, his hand tapping on your shoulder.
“I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you look.” He says, staring at you with a quiet longing you didn't pick up on.
“You can tell me now,” You tease.
He chuckles, his hand hesitating for a moment before it finds its way around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips graze your ear. “Youre the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You don’t even get the chance to reply, the words falling flat on your tongue.
“What an honor it is to meet you.”
You look up to see the same woman who had stood up on stage before, Mrs. Lee. The musical genius in the flesh. Jeno, quickly moving to give the two of you space to talk, though remaining close enough.
You bow quickly, a perfect ninety degrees. “No, it's an honor to meet you. Your work is truly inspiring, I tell Jeno everyday just how lucky he is to have a mother so efficient and hardworking.”
She brightens, “Do you study music as well?”
“No ma’am, unfortunately I’m tone deaf but I appreciate it all the much more.” You reply shyly. “I’m a writer.”
“Ah,” Her smile widens, “That’s beautiful. I am quite fond of authors myself, please do tell me what you happen to write?”
“I’m only now starting, but if all things go to plan I should have my first novel released soon.” You nod, looking at Jeno who hadn’t once let go of his hold on your waist. As if sensing it, his mother turns attention to the area, smirking playfully.
“Well I do wish to own a copy once it does release, and Jeno.” She beckons her son. “Do bring her again more often, I think the two of you make the perfect pair.”
She apologies, stepping back into the celebration. You feel like a weight was lifted off of your chest, somehow wanting nothing more than the woman’s approval.
“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. How do I even talk about my book with her when you inspired half of it.”
Jeno laughs, “I don’t think she minds. She knows more than she lets on, she just likes for people to introduce themselves anyway.”
Your eyes widen, "You're saying she probably has a hundred page long history on my entire existence?”
“A hundred pages sure sounds humble,” he jokes.
“Neno!”
“I know, I'm only joking.” His hand comes up to smooth over your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his hold, breathing in the subtle hint of wood from the cologne he must’ve put on as he got ready. “Can I show you somewhere?”
“That sounds like something a murderer would say,” He sighs and despite your heart thundering you continue. “But yes.”
The first thing you notice is how silent it is besides the waves crashing into the sand. The entire property had been closed off, a subtle flex Jeno hadn’t intended when he told you about the place on the drive over. It was dark despite the fairy lights hanging off the building, the only real lighting coming from the full moon that was cast up above you.
You think of all of the possibilities that could come about in your book. Every piece of inspiration coming from the past few months up until this moment. Only you knew it couldn’t continue this way, not with how risky it became. Not when you realized just by looking at Jeno in his suit, laughing with the rest of his family just how easy it would be to get used to this. To crave more.
“Do you like this place?”
“I love it.” You speak carefully, suddenly overwhelmed with how comfortable the silence was between you two. You're not sure when your chest became so heavy, or when breathing felt like a pierced blade to your chest.
“Princess.” Jeno calls you, and you wish you could answer him but you just can’t. He must’ve repeated himself again, because the next second he’s at your side forcing you to look into his eyes.
And even with the rough lighting and the blurry vision, he still took away every last bit of your sanity. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
You can tell he’s stressed, and you aren’t even sure when you started to cry but here you were with your makeup probably ruined, struggling to catch a breath. When did it become so hard to look at him without feeling like the world was crumbling beneath you? When did his pure existence have such profound meaning to you? No, that you could answer, because even a panic attack couldn’t take away from the fact that you loved Lee Jeno.
“I–“ You try to speak, only embarrassing yourself as you choke up on the words, warm tears spilling down your face.
“Hey, look at me. It’s okay, we’re okay.”
No, everything was not okay. You had fucked up the only rule that really mattered. You had done yourself the worst by falling in love with him.
“Y/N.” He’s clearly worried, though he masks it well enough. You look up at him, “I’m sorry, I made the rules myself and I couldn’t even follow them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I think I– no. I know it now. I’m in love with you.” You close your eyes refusing to look at him. “I didn’t mean to, and I know this is so sudden and you don’t feel the same at all but I just—“
You never get the chance to finish your sentence. His lips come crashing into yours, the same passion from the kiss you’d shared only nights before. He’s pouring every ounce of a love confession to you, hoping it will be enough to clear your mind of any doubts you had that he wasn’t yearning for your love.
He’s the oxygen you need to breathe. That’s your first thought when he pulls away. “I was supposed to be the one to tell you first.” He whispers.
“Then maybe you should’ve said it sooner,” You taunt, his thumb tracing over your tear stained cheeks.
He frowns, “I promise I was going to. It just took me a bit longer to realize.”
You gasp, feigning offense. “Wow, here I am pouring my heart out to you and instead you let me embarrass myself!”
“It’s not embarrassing to see you cry, you’re pretty even when you do.”
You hope it’s dark enough for him not to notice how flustered you are. “Don’t use flattery to get out of this!”
“Oh?” He pokes at your cheek. “But you seem to enjoy it a lot.”
He closes the distance, pecking the corner of your lips that results in a bashful smile from you. “Don’t worry, you have the rest of our lives to get used to my compliments.”
“Is that your way of saying you’re madly in love with me?”
“I think the kiss established that earlier. But yes Y/N, and I’d love for you to be my girlfriend too.”
“Ah,” you contemplate. “What are the benefits?”
“Everything we’ve done the past few months and more, you just got to experience the free trial.”
You shove at him playfully. “Then I gladly accept.” You say, and before he can give a snarky response you’re pulling him closer. Closing the distance between the two of you to share a kiss, this time as lovers.
Epilogue
Scary Love
It was Déjà vu. You sat anxiously in the same office you’d been in before. Only this time, you were confident that Shuhua wouldn’t turn you away, oh and of course the fingers you had been fiddling with happened to be of the man sitting right beside you.
Shuhua sets the papers down, her expression flat.
“So?” You grow more anxious, biting your bottom lip.
“I’ll let the graphic design department begin searching for an artist to go along with your cover art.” Your eyes widen. “It's wonderful.”
You jump up, dragging Jeno up on his own feet to celebrate with a hug. He smiles, not at all minding the fact that you’d just manhandled him.
You turn and face Shuhua then, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes. “Shuhua!”
“Don’t cry you big baby, you were always going to make it, you just needed more time.” She smiles, pulling you in for a short hug. “I’m proud of you y/n.”
“How am I not supposed to cry when you say things like that!”
The two of them laugh at you as you hug Jeno, hiding your face in his shirt. “I told you she’d love it.” Jeno says, patting your back. You look up at him, “It’s really thanks to you.”
He chuckles, “Thanks princess, but I wasn’t the one who wrote it.”
“Ah but you're the one who inspired it all!” You tease him, “Maybe I should add you as a co-writer.”
“Mhmm I’m sure my fans would be taken aback.”
“I don’t think they’d mind. Lee Jeno is known for being multiskilled after all.”
“Don’t you guys have places to be,” Shuhua groans. “I heard you booked a sold out show.”
“Oh right!” You exclaim, “we should really get going, don't want to keep anyone waiting.”
“Right, go on and leave! Take your puppy with you!”
Oblivion had really reached new heights of popularity, they’d been working so hard these past few months working on pushing out a full album that you had almost forgotten how your boyfriend looked. You giggle at the thought, you were Lee Jeno’s girlfriend.
The fans quickly took a liking to you, with how loud and relatable your personality was. They’d even spotted the two of you on a date (if you can call grocery shopping that) not too long ago, asking for a picture with Jeno that you quickly agreed to. Jeno, as humble as ever, had gushed at their compliments. And when the fan suddenly turned to you asking if they could also have a picture, Jeno was way too quick to take fifty of them.
Things were great, even with the busy schedules between the two of you, you made sure to make time to go to his shows.
“Guys, we’re going to need you on stage in the next ten minutes.” Chenle, Oblivion’s new manager, reminded everyone.
“Yes sir!” Mark saluted the man, “You heard him guys, hurry up.”
“I’m going to miss you.” You pout, running your hands over your boyfriend's forearm.
“Don’t be silly, I’m going to be looking right at you.”
“I don’t think the fans will appreciate that.”
“No they will,” Darling adds into your conversation. “They’ll add it to your cutest couple moments compilations.”
“You sound like you know them so well.”
“She has secret chat rooms with them,” Donghyuck squints at darling. “Where else would they have gotten those pictures of me and Jaemin.”
Jaemin wrapped an arm around the tan man. “Nope, all me.”
You laugh at the two of them, Jeno’s arms wrapping around you and he snuggles into your neck. “Do you want to come up on stage later?”
“Neno you know I can’t.”
“You can if it’s an encore,” he sighs. He really does look like such a puppy when he makes those eyes. “Please baby.”
You couldn’t say no to him. “Fine.”
He smiles, pulling you in for a short and sweet kiss that's partially interrupted by Chenle stopping by again to shout, "Five more minutes!”
“You guys are kind of disgusting.” Jisung scowls but from where he has his head laying to rest on darling’s shoulder.
“You say that, but need we remind you of the heinous acts the two of you got up to before our show?” Jeno threatens the couple with a smile on his face.
They match each other’s beet red. The rest of the band turned to laugh at the pair, teasing the couple further. That reminded you.
“Neno,” You ask. “Have you ever considered red hair?”
By the time the last song ended the crowd pushed for more, which meant that you could make do of your promise to your boyfriend. Security allowed for you to pass through and onto the stage, Jeno capturing your entire body the second you got close. “I missed you.”
“I thought you said you’d be looking right at me.”
“Yeah but that only made me miss you more.”
The band, as per fan request, chose to perform their final song again, this time with a twist. Jisung was to take over lead vocals as the rest of them swapped instruments, safe for Jeno who instead had to direct you to play for him.
You sat on his lap, a bright smile on your face that was battling the stage lights. You’d never felt happier, you think, sitting with Jeno. A part of it scared you, not knowing what could come out of this. You hadn’t ever expected to be living as one of your novels, but here was the man in front of you willing to give you your happy ending. Loving you so openly despite his similar fears.
“Here,” he gives you a drum stick. You accept holding onto it as his bigger hand wraps around yours. “Follow my lead.” He brings the stick down, hitting the snare with light force. Not enough to have you jumping off of him but enough for you to squeal in shock.
His laughs fill your ears despite the heavy music and crowd. And as you turn back barely able to look straight into his eyes, you find him already looking into yours. This time with an expression you find easy to recognize with how much you love him too.
You realize it then, you’d follow his lead anywhere.
࣪𖤐 the end ── ★ ̟
FINAL NOTES: This one was so much less angsty than the other one and I was scared if that would affect the readers experience but my beta reader said that both stories were on par with one another… Anyway i’m happy to write more of these two in the next part.. Donghyuck biases i hope ur excited!!
