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#i think they got really screwed over by the writing

spade-riddles · 3 days

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Submission: About the house facade falling

About that reference to a silent movie with house facade falling - hello silent movie fan here! :)

You are thinking of the iconic scene from "Steamboat Bill jr", a film by and with Buster Keaton! (Who happens to be a cousin of mine, so double interest jippie!)

This is one of his most famous scenes. The house facade was weighing about 2 tons, so no cardboard here - he could have been killed if the calculations hadn't worked out and the crew on set was worried about Buster's safety. This is even more amazing when you think about Buster's education or lack thereof - his parents were Vaudevillian actors and Buster grew up "on tour" and acting from early childhood on. Meaning he never got a formal education. He famously had difficulties writing his own name. Buster couldn't really read or write but created these elaborated sets and stunts himself.

Buster talked about that if he hadn't been born into an entertainment business family, he would have become an engineer. The film industry was quite literally build with his technical input on film technology (he took cameras apart and rebuild them, to make them more adaptable to his ideas for example) and stunt work on set.

All of this to say - the falling facade is iconic in so many ways! And I hope Taylor saw "Steamboat Bill jr". :)

Copyright has run out and Library of Congress has put it on the National Film Registry. So it is easily possible to watch this online.

I don't know if I'm being a bit too informed but I want to add this too - maybe Taylor not only wanted to reference (maybe) this iconic scene, but also the circumstances?

You see Buster was one of THE creators of cinema. Even back then people acknowledged that. But he was always bad with, or rather not interested in, money!

Unlike Charlie Chaplin and Harold Lloyd, his two big contemporaries, he decided to sign with a big studio. Thinking that way he didn't have to do the paper work (he couldn't read anyway) and accounting and the studio could do the promo work he wasn't really interested in.

That deal turned to be his downfall! He got screwed over with the contract. The studio thought he was dumb and uneducated and treated him terribly. Buster suddenly had to hand in written scripts - how? The studio was getting more and more involved with production because he couldn't give them written pages ... it was a disaster!

At that time his marriage to a famous actress also started to fall apart and Buster started drinking. By the time of "Steamboat Bill jr" he was a full blown alcoholic. His last wife, he met after he had sobered up, Eleanor, later talked about that everyone around Buster back then thought, he was trying to kill himself with this stunt (which was filmed at the end of the movie shoot) because he was so desperate and depressed at that point. He couldn't deal with his marriage falling apart and the studio trying to micromanage him.

So yeah ... I don't know. Did Taylor reference this? She knows about Clara Bow, the star no one was interested in when she started speaking ... does she know about Buster and his conflict with the film industry which sucked him dry and discarded him? Possible ...

If you want to know more about Buster - there is a very good documentary "Buster Keaton - a hard act to follow". He is also featured in the "Silent Hollywood" documentary series. All his films are amazing, but his personal favourite was "The General". I think that is the one Buster would recommend to you. ;)

————

Anonymous said:

So after the volcano 🌋 anon she Buster Keaton’s through the door and comes out under the floor.

#submission

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nekkomaa · 8 hours

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Warnings: Violence, inappropriate language, manipulation, toxic relationships.

Notes: I'm really surprised that I managed to write another chapter in such a short space of time. I hope this cheers you up a bit! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!

I'd love to know if you'd prefer a protagonist with a name, or a “reader” protagonist

Portuguese version published on Wattpad

Word count: 2038

“You know I love you very much, don't you, darling?” David smiles at you, a venomous smile, his gaze containing a silent threat, daring you to do something wrong while he's away.

“I know. I love you too.” You answer, it's disgusting to have to say it, you've hesitated many times before, but you knew the hard way that it was better to go with the flow of things, to let things go his way. Here, you're nothing. “Come back safe.” You say, as he waves to you and walks through the front door. Secretly you wish he'd never come back.

“I'll be back soon.” He replies, his voice muffled as the door closes.

You don't move, not until you stop listening to the sound of the car's tires against the gravel. Letting out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, you move towards the bedroom. You'd go back to sleep, it was late and you didn't even like the idea of playing the good wife and saying goodbye. At this point you were in an internal struggle, not knowing what to feel, but at the same time you felt nothing, you felt hatred for him.

You climb the steps slowly, the darkness of the house becomes gloomy, as you face the large corridor that extends to the end of the stairs, you take a moment to look at the white door at the end of the corridor, you think about trying to open it in a moment of courage, he wasn't home, he couldn't stop you from opening the door.

You give up when you remember that the door would obviously be locked, David wasn't stupid, he knew that someone could try to open the door while he was away, whether it was you or the maid.

Opening the bedroom door, you are surprised by a cold wind coming from the window, a strange feeling of fear and doubt comes over you. You're sure that when you left the room, the window was closed, as was the whole house. With hesitant steps you walk to the window, there is no light except the new moon shining outside. When you reach the window, you feel your body shiver, the sensation of being watched passes through you for a moment, you look down cautiously and discover that the guard who is always at the door is passed out and tied up in front of the jeep they use for work.

Your heart races, you hear his pulse in your ear, you're stunned for a moment, not knowing whether to take the opportunity to flee, or whether you should hide, someone has passed out the guard and tied him up, just when David isn't at home, and by chance the window is open, your window.

Your thoughts are racing, you know there's someone in the house with you, but how did he get in so quickly? David left a few seconds ago, could you have wasted more than half an hour just climbing the stairs?

With a quick breath you feel the need to look for any kind of weapon to defend yourself, whoever got in here certainly wouldn't spare your life. You look next to you, a tacky lamp is there, and next to it a medium-sized plant pot, you grab it without thinking too much, as you turn back you squint your eyes trying to see into the partially lit room, you notice something moving towards you and you don't hesitate to throw the pot in its direction.

You can see the silhouette of a person, the vase hits them and falls to the floor, apparently it didn't even have an effect, you're not sure where you hit it, but you knew that if you didn't hit a vital part you were screwed.

He kept advancing, the black shadow was fast, you dodged by reflex when you hit him the first thing you saw, a pillow was thrown and distracted him long enough for you to run towards the door. Panic filled your veins, you would be killed, you would die living a dull life shrouded in panic.

Anger fills your senses, you hate it all, you hate David, you hate this house, you hate looking in the mirror and seeing a shell of what you were with each passing day, you hate yourself.

You can only hear your quick steps towards the kitchen, you only hear the rustle of clothes behind you, whatever is chasing you moves like a ghost.

The sharp turn you make at the door seems to delay your pursuer by a few seconds, giving you time to grab the first pan you see in front of you to defend yourself, the kitchen is brighter than your bedroom thanks to the large windows it has, you can see what's chasing you as soon as you turn back, But you didn't even have time to register what it looked like, as in the blink of an eye he was inches away from you with something in his hand, without wasting any time you hit the pan on his hand and then on what you thought was his head, the sound of the pan hitting echoed in the empty house.

Your luck seemed to run out the moment that pot hit his head. You felt your throat tighten immediately afterwards, the air being cut from your lungs.

You could take a closer look at what was chasing you now, unfortunately it was in the worst way, and not with the chaser passed out from the pan.

Everything was incredibly black except for the white skull staring at you in the dark, you couldn't see the eyes through the holes, but you could feel them piercing you. The tightness in your throat loosened slightly as soon as he saw that you weren't squirming. The pan that had been in your hand was forgotten on the floor, the counter behind you was clean, there were no weapons to use, if you wanted to get out alive, you had to be smart.

Anger and fear were strongly intertwined with each other, but anger in a fragile body like yours wouldn't solve anything. Fear, however, only served to make you soft, the survival instinct seemed to work the other way around, telling you to stay still, as if your predator couldn't see you, as if your predator didn't have his hand on your throat.

“What…” Your voice comes out lower and shakier than you first intended, but you continue anyway. “What do you want from me?” The man in front of you brings his second hand into your field of vision, the knife glinting on the moon, his body trembling with anticipatory fear. He realizes this and lowers the knife until it is facing his face.

“No funny business, okay?” He says to you and carefully releases you, his gloved hand moves away from your neck and he signals for you to remain silent. You just nod back. There were no loopholes to escape, so collaborating at the moment seemed the right thing to do.

He ties your wrists together in front of you and uses them to guide you into the room where he entered. He sits you on the bed and faces you. He seemed big before, but now, this was much more than you first thought. That made it worse, he seemed much more indimidating with her.

“You're going to tell me what I want to know, if you lie, I'll take action.” He remains where he is staring at you for a while longer before signaling for you to speak. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” His voice remains low, he doesn't seem to care, anyway, even if you were completely hysterical screaming and calling for help, no one would come, he's passed out the only guard in the house, and in the place where you live, so far away from everything, it's obvious that no one would ever hear you.

“Where's your husband? Where did he go?” His voice was harsh, to the point. He seemed out of patience.

“I-I… don't know” His voice faltered, he took it as a lie. The knife from before soon came into view again, he twirled it between his fingers like a threat.

“I'm sure we fought before, didn't we? No lies, or should I make it clear that I'm armed?” His voice showed a lack of patience, and you certainly wouldn't want to test his patience.

“I swear.” You tried again.

“Little thing, if you're going to lie you should try to be more convincing, anyone swears. Now tell the truth, where is your shitty little husband?” He takes a step closer, the knife still twirling between his fingers. The movement would be mesmerizing if it weren't for this situation. “Aren't you going to tell me that a good wife like you doesn't know where her husband is?” He teases, his voice now sounding sweet, a hint of amusement in it.

“I don't know where he is! You have to believe me!” You beg as he comes closer, the knife threatening you with every move.

“And why would I believe you, darling? As far as I know you're just pretending you don't know anything just to get your husband's fat ass off the hook.” The knife hovers inches from your neck, you swear you can feel the cold steel.

“I don't know who you are or what you want but if it's money or some kind of information I'm sorry you're talking to the wrong person!” You speak quickly, despair coursing through your veins, you're going to end up dead, and you haven't even had a chance to leave this place.

“You have to know something. He's not keeping you here for free.” He comes close to your ear. “Even if you are his pet, it's impossible that you don't know anything.” He steps back and watches your reaction.

Swallowing dryly, you remember the room at the end of the corridor, the place you never entered. “There is, there's a room at the end of the corridor.” You stutter as the knife lightly grazes your neck, stinging as he moves away from you.

“Yes? And what's in the room?” He asks.

“All the letters he receives are there, if there's any kind of information it's there.” You reply, the man seems satisfied with your answer.

“I said you knew something.” He comments, his voice now more amused, something like a mockery of I knew it! “You're coming with me.” He pulls you up and leads you into the hallway. The white door at the end faces you, you hope to escape from this house as soon as this man leaves with whatever he's looking for, if you stay, and David comes back, you're sure to be dead.

The man turns the handle and the door doesn't move. He snorts in annoyance and pushes you behind him.

“I don't have the key.” You say as soon as he pushes you back.

“Well, I never said I needed one.” He replies quickly. You watch him step away from the door and kick it, the door opens on the second kick and soon he's pulling you into the room with him.

“I told you what I know, you're going to let me go… right?” The uncertainty in his voice is palpable, you wince as he throws you a look. With the light in the room now, you can see his eyes. A deep brown stares back at you, if before he was intimidating even without seeing you properly, imagine now that those eyes pierce right through to your soul from across the room.

“I don't usually leave witnesses, you little thing.” That's the only thing he says to you.

Credits for the mask used in the second image: @Mcmorthern on twitter.

If you are the owner of the image and want it removed, please contact me!

#call of duty #cod x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #ghost cod

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bklynmusicnerd · 1 year

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Are you a Chalynn shipper? Or was?

Complicated question for me. I started out really liking the idea of Chase and Brook Lynn. I liked that they were this safe space for each other after being let down by the people in their lives. I've been rooting for Chase to get someone who actually loved and appreciated him since the Willow fiasco. And I've been rooting for Brook Lynn since she came back to town after getting exploited by Linc.

I wasn't crazy about the baby (most fictional babies bore me) story but it was nice to see them working together. They started to lose me with this pop star story. I didn't understand why all of a sudden Brook Lynn felt like Chase had to be a singer in order for them to work as a couple. I don't know if she was self-sabotaging or what but it was really strange. And obviously I hated them making her a pseudo-villain in a story that was supposed to be about her taking her power back after being exploited.

Now I've gone from being annoyed at Chase's kindness being exploited to annoyed that they've written Chase so unforgiving of Brook Lynn. I don't know, I feel like both characters need some space to recover from that God awful story. If they can remember how to write them actually enjoying each other's company again, I'd be all for Chase and Brook Lynn.

#gh #i think they got really screwed over by the writing #i also don't like the way they have chase speak negatively about brook lynn's core character #even after she owns up and tries to make amends #it makes it seem like he doesn't even like her #idk they have a lot of work to do with those two

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burntoutdaydreamer · 7 months

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Weird Brain Hacks That Help Me Write

I'm a consistently inconsistent writer/aspiring novelist, member of the burnt-out-gifted-kid-to-adult-ADHD-diagnosis-pipeline, recently unemployed overachiever, and person who's sick of hearing the conventional neurotypical advice to dealing with writer's block (i.e. "write every single day," or "there's no such thing as writer's block- if you're struggling to write, just write" Like F*CK THAT. Thank you, Brenda, why don't you go and tell someone with diabetes to just start producing more insulin?)

I've yet to get to a point in my life where I'm able to consistently write at the pace I want to, but I've come a long way from where I was a few years ago. In the past five years I've written two drafts of a 130,000 word fantasy novel (currently working on the third) and I'm about 50,000 words in on the sequel. I've hit a bit of a snag recently, but now that I've suddenly got a lot of time on my hands, I'm hoping to revamp things and return to the basics that have gotten me to this point and I thought I might share.

1) My first draft stays between me and God

I find that I and a lot of other writers unfortunately have gotten it into our heads that first drafts are supposed to resemble the finished product and that revisions are only for fixing minor mistakes. Therefore, if our first draft sucks that must mean we suck as writers and having to rewrite things from scratch means that means our first draft is a failure.

I'm here to say that is one of the most detrimental mentalities you can have as a writer.

Ever try drawing a circle? You know how when you try to free-hand draw a perfect circle in one go, it never turns out right? Whereas if you scribble, say, ten circles on top of one another really quickly and then erase the messy lines until it looks like you drew a circle with a singular line, it ends up looking pretty decent?

Yeah. That's what the drafting process is.

Your first draft is supposed to suck. I don't care who you are, but you're never going to write a perfect first draft, especially if you're inexperienced. The purpose of the first draft is to lay down a semi-workable foundation. A really loose, messy sketch if you will. Get it all down on paper, even if it turns out to be the most cliche, cringe-inducing writing you've ever done. You can work out those kinks in the later drafts. The hardest part of the first draft is the most crucial part: getting started. Don't stress yourself out and make it even harder than it already is.

If that means making a promise to yourself that no one other than you will ever read your first draft unless it's over your cold, dead body, so be it.

2) Tell perfectionism to screw off by writing with a pen

I used to exclusively write with pencil until I realized I was spending more time erasing instead of writing.

Writing with a pen keeps me from editing while I right. Like, sometimes I'll have to cross something out or make notes in the margins, but unlike erasing and rewriting, this leaves the page looking like a disaster zone and that's a good thing.

If my writing looks like a complete mess on paper, that helps me move past the perfectionist paralysis and just focus on getting words down on the page. Somehow seeing a page full of chicken scratch makes me less worried about making my writing all perfect and pretty- and that helps me get on with my main goal of fleshing out ideas and getting words on a page.

3) It's okay to leave things blank when you can't think of the right word

My writing, especially my first draft, is often filled with ___ and .... and (insert name here) and red text that reads like stage directions because I can't think of what is supposed to go there or the correct way to write it.

I found it helps to treat my writing like I do multiple choice tests. Can't think of the right answer? Just skip it. Circle it, come back to it later, but don't let one tricky question stall you to the point where you run out of brain power or run out of time to answer the other questions.

If I'm on a role, I'm not gonna waste it by trying to remember that exact word that I need or figure out the right transition into the next scene or paragraph. I'm just going to leave it blank, mark to myself that I'll need to fix the problem later, and move on.

Trust me. This helps me sooooo much with staying on a roll.

4) Write Out of Order

This may not be for everyone, but it works wonders for me.

Sure, the story your writing may need to progress chronologically, but does that mean you need to write it chronologically? No. It just needs to be written.

I generally don't do this as much for editing, but for writing, so long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it's in the right order. Can't think of how to structure Chapter 2, but you have a pretty good idea of how your story's going to end? Write the ending then. You'll have to go back and write Chapter 2 eventually, but if you're feeling more motivated to write a completely different part of the book, who's to say you can't do that?

When I'm working on a project, I start off with a single document that I title "Scrap for (Project Title)" and then just write whatever comes to mind, in whatever order. Once I've gotten enough to work with, then I start outlining my plot and predicting how many chapters I'm going to need. Then, I create separate google docs for each individual chapter and work on them in whatever order I feel like, often leaving several partially complete as I jump from one to the other. Then, as each one gets finished, I copy and paste the chapter into the full manuscript document. This means that the official "draft" could have Chapters 1 and 9, but completely be missing Chapters 2-8, and that's fine. It's not like anyone will ever know once I finish it.

Sorry for the absurdly long post. Hopes this helps someone. Maybe I'll share more tricks in the future.

#writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writers on tumblr #writing tips #writing advice #writers block #novel writing #fiction writing #writer #writers of tumblr

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https-yeonjun · 4 months

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house warming (k.mg)

wc. 756

genre. smut

tags. minors dni! mingyu x fem!reader, established relationship, cockwarming

a/n. i have been writing this for like 9 months and i really wanted to make it longer but i just want to post it because mentally i can't complete it, maybe there'll be a part two (most likely not) but yay!!! cockwarming mingyu yasss

more of my work

you really should have planned better.

it was like everything that could possibly go wrong did. you imagined that by now you would be wrapped up in a large, cozy comforter nestled on your cloud soft king size bed in your already furnished new house. but the movers got the wrong date down, so now your house was bare save for the mess of cardboard boxes in every room and the lumpy air mattress in the middle of your lonely bedroom.

the room lacked the warmth you had hoped for, and the chilly air seeped through the gaps. and to make matters worse, you found out that your heater was broken, in the dead of winter.

it was too much to manage in one night, so you decided to unpack your closet and go to sleep. everything else was tomorrow’s problem.

but in the middle of the night, you stir awake, a kink in your neck reminding you of your less than ideal sleeping arrangement. you turn to the man lying beside you, who is restlessly moving around.

“what are you doing?” you groggily snap at him.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “”i’m just really cold.”

“there are extra blankets in the closet, i think.” you suggest, rolling over, trying to lull yourself back to sleep.

“i wanna feel you, baby.” he whispers, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. you roll away from him, more focused on checking your phone, causing him to emit a low groan.

“no, baby, come back here.” he pleads, drawing out the last syllable of his sentence.

“mingyu, it’s two in the morning.” you retort, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating the room’s bare bones.

“i’m so cold,” he whines again, pulling the comforter over the two of you.

“baby, check in the closet for extra blankets.”

“but you’re so warm here,” he pulls you closer to him. he snuggles into your neck, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“god, we need to call a repair person to fix that stupid heater,” you groan when you think about everything that you need to do.

“we can do that in the morning,” he says, as he traces kisses along your jawline to your neck. “but in the meantime, we can keep each other warm.”

“mingyu, babe, i’m so tired, and the movers are coming at ten and we still have so much to do.”

“baby, baby,” he shushes you, wrapping you in his arms. “just relax.”

“i’m trying to go back to sleep.”

“please,” mingyu begs. “baby, it’s cold outside. i just want to feel your warmth.” you feel a shiver down your spine when he begins to nibble on your ear. “you don’t have to do anything, i just wanna be inside you.”

he slides your sweatpants down. slowly guiding his cock to your entrance, he rubs it up and down your slit. his tip pokes around your entrance and you push your hips back, encouraging him to enter into your tight cunt. his hands grip your hips tightly, his face screwing up in pleasure as he slowly pushes. you suck your breath as he bottoms out. “sorry,” he mumbles.

“it’s fine,” you sigh, melting into his embrace. mingyu, still mumbling sorries, moves around until he finally feels comfortable. when he does, his head returns to the nook of your neck. the two of you lie with your figures entwined, your limbs interwoven in an affectionate dance. your head rests against his chest, his heartbeat beneath you serving as a lullaby. his cold hands slide underneath your sweatshirt, and you clench around him.

“fuck,” he groans lowly and now it’s your turn to profusely apologize. “it’s fine, honey, just give me a moment to calm down.” you give him a moment before you place your hands on top of his arms where they rested at your waist. this was supposed to be an innocent moment – as innocent as it could be. it was supposed to be an opportunity to feel close to each other, but, as you’d expect with your boyfriend, innocence seemed to take a backseat to a different kind of intimacy.

slowly he rocks his hips against yours, prompting a soft moan to escape from your lips. “gyu,” you warn him slightly, but he ignores you, his hands slipping down to your hips to pull you closer to him. “what happened to “i just want to feel you”?”

“m sorry,” he moans out, “you know i can’t help it. you just feel so good.”

taglist: @dearlyjun

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#fay's works #mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu smut

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eddiesxangel · 7 months

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If you ever felt like it, would you be cool writing reader and Eddie; their best friends and they both perv for each other but never show it and she was invited to DND and she needs to rush to the bathroom to literally rub one out and Eddie silently makes his way to see what you’re up to

Just Friends |Perv!EddieMunsonX Perv!bestie reader

AN: I made it modern just to make it more pervy! hope you enjoy :) ps. If you see any typos no you didn’t 🤫

WC: 3.2k

It’s been almost a year since you and Eddie became friends, you’ve been inseparable since. You and Eddie first met when you were sleeping over at Nancy’s and Eddie was over for a DND session. You had literally run into Eddie, you smacked your face into his chest as you rounded the corner, in your pyjamas no less. You gave an awkward giggle and introduced yourself. You didn’t really recognize him, your lunch periods weren’t the same and he wasn’t in any of your classes. But fate swooped in, and due to that fated night everything changed.

Eddie was struck by you the second you crashed into his chest. He had seen you occasionally with Nancy in the halls but never could come up with a good excuse to approach you. He thought you were cute, like really fucking cute. So cute to the point that when you did actually touch him (by accident) he popped a boner the second your sparkling eyes looked into his for the first time. Lame, he knows. He couldn’t believe you had this visceral reaction over his body, but all he could think about was your lips, how they moved when you spoke his name and how you smiled at him. Eddie was absolutely screwed, and he had to do something about it he just didn’t know how. So when you finally approached him at Mike’s one day he seized his one opportunity. Turns out you were really fucking cool, on top of being really fucking cute.

Eddie wanted to spend the most amount of time with you that he could. He was always asking to hang out one on one. His favourite would be when you would ask him over to your house. He loved being able to have access to all things you. The first time he was invited over he couldn’t believe his luck. In the midst of your hang out, you had to take a phone call in the hallway and you left him alone in your room. Eddie felt like a creep the first time but he had to know. He found your underwear drawer, it was filled with soft cotton and lace. His eyes almost popped out of his head when his hands found your red lacy thong. Pocketing it and slamming your drawer ship when he heard you giggle goodbye.

The second time Eddie was left in your room you told him you were going to take a quick shower, leaving him to his own devices for a least ten minutes, he saw your book on your nightstand, it had a cutesy little cartoon cover, very girly, he was planning on mocking you when you got back in because who reads romance novels? He opened up to where your bookmark was, and his eyes bulged open when he saw what exactly it was you were reading

His strong hands gripped my bare hips as he pinned me down to the bed. His fingers travelled down to my soaked pussy, slowly and agonizingly circling my sensitive clit. I begged for more but he only laughed, "Only good girls get what they want" he whispered and I ground my hips up into him the best I could, but his hold was too much. "Please' I begged. "Please Sir I will do anything, I want your cock so bad, I promise I'll be a good girl." I cried. He was torturing me...

Eddie could not believe his eyes, he had no idea you were so dirty. His best friend had another side to her that he had yet to see, that he would literally sell his soul to see. Oh to hear you say those dirty words to him that he had just read. He popped a boner just thinking about it. He hadn't time to fix it so he grabbed your cow squishmallow to put on his lap when you re-entered the room in nothing but your pink bath towel. You were literally going to be the death of him.

You loved when Eddie would come over, but you also loved being in Eddie’s space. Being consumed by all things Eddie, the decor, the smell, the comfort of being surrounded by him. Eddie let you into his home anytime and all the time, it didn’t matter if he wasn’t home yet, you knew where the spare key was, he texted you he would be home in 40 minutes so you let yourself in and hung out until he got back.

You walked into Eddie’s room and the urge to snoop was growing. You didn’t know what you were looking for until you found it. Stashed under his mess of clothing was Eddie's laptop. Your hands couldn’t move fast enough to the search history. Luckily for you, he was dumb enough to be logged into everything automatically. You didn’t care that this was wrong, yet you wanted to know if he had been talking to anyone. You hadn’t seen him romantically attached to anyone in the almost year you’ve been just friends. You're sure he would tell you. However, the jealousy gremlin was nipping at your ear; telling you to keep going.

After being unsuccessful at finding any dirt you continued through the search of his laptop and found a particularly interesting bookmark. You knew this was so wrong and he probably would never forgive you if he found out but you had to know what Eddie was into.

You clicked on the link and a porn website opened. The video was of a woman solo touching herself, and using very racy language about what she would do to the watcher. It was much different than what you consumed when you were to indulge yourself, but it was starting to turn you on as you examined the naked woman spread out in front of you. Thinking about Eddie and what he would be doing while watching this…in this bed you were sitting on, naked, touching himself to her sexy words. You thought about how big he would be, how those delicious fingers would grip himself. You often found yourself dazing out while staring at his thick ring-clad fingers. Especially when he would practice guitar, and how quickly he could move them without missing a note. Your mind drifted and you found yourself lying down in Eddie’s bed.

Trailing your hands down underneath the waistband of your jeans, you brought a worn t-shirt that was thrown on the bed up to your nose, it smelled so strongly of Eddie. Your fingers teased your clit edging yourself as you pretended they were your best friends. You thought of how it would be to have him on top of you, how it would feel to have his cock slip past your entrance. You hummed his name quietly over and over until the slam of the screen door made you jump and you snapped out of your bliss. You quickly exited the screen and slid the laptop under the pile of clothes that rested atop the bed before Eddie entered his room.

A bright smile struck his face when he saw you there sitting in his bed. He was oblivious to what you had been doing seconds earlier. Eddie's mind spun with the scenarios he imagined the both of you in, preferably naked. He never divulged these fantasies, of course, he couldn’t have you finding out about what a perv he was for you, or else you would never let him near you again.

Tonight Eddie invited you to watch in on Hellfire because you told him Nancy had a date and you had nothing to do this Friday night. You’d never attended before, you were always busy with Nancy. So when you showed up to game night you didn’t know what to expect. Eddie tried so many times to explain the game to you but you never really understood, there were too many rules and you’d always zone out as you watched his plump lips at work. Day dreaming of them on your lips, or on your neck, or on your pussy.

You walked up the the Wheeler household feeling a bit strange that you weren't here to see Nancy. You were let in by Mrs. Wheeler who was on her way out with Mr. Wheeler for a very rare date night.

"Hey guys" you greeted the group as you made your way down to the basement.

“Hey, cutie" Eddie greeted back with the biggest smile on his face.

It truly was a mystery to the others how the both of you weren't picking up one another's signals. You saw Mike roll his eyes after Eddie spoke but you took it like he didn't was his annoying sister's friend here to ruin their ritual. Little moments between you two were clear as day to any onlooker but to the both of you, you were oblivious. Too blind to see the signs because you’ve convinced yourselves that the other one would never share the same feelings.

You had settled in sitting on the couch behind the DND table so you could give them space without crowding around. Eddie was directly facing you so you could see everything but still do your own thing.

As the night progressed you’d been so turned on by Eddie’s performance. The passion that filled him, the way he deepened his voice, the gaze in his eyes as he described the frightening scenes that played out for the club members. Everything that you lusted for from Eddie was heightened by 100 tonight. Eddie had such a hold over you that he didn't even know about.

You crossed your legs trying to focus on the tiktoks you tried distracting yourself with however they were not helping because it had been a bunch of thirst traps and sexy excerpts from romance novels. Yes, you were on Booktok and no you were not ashamed of being an avid smut reader.

Since the distractions were not working and the throbbing between your legs was becoming unbearable you needed to excuse yourself, and quickly. You barely mumbled that you needed the washroom before sprinting to the main floor to find some peace in the powder room.

You shut the door so quickly you may have accidentally slammed it which altered Eddie's even more. He was worried about you. You'd been squirming on the couch looking very uncomfortable, and then you ran out of there like a bat out of hell. He knew he needed to see if you were okay, maybe you had gotten your period or something?

Eddie walked up the steps and called out your name but there was no answer. As he rounded the corner he noticed the light coming from under the closed bathroom door. He walked closer and heard your muffled voice but couldn't make out the words. As he approached the door he almost knocked but froze halfway when he heard your voice loud and clear.

"Eddie please" you moaned. Eddie couldn't believe his ears because there was no way this was happening...until you did it again.

"Fuck me please, Eddie right there!" you gasped. Your clit had been throbbing the whole time you’d been downstairs you couldn’t help but relieve it. You were silently watching the secret video you had taken of Eddie while he was commanding the game. It has turned you on so much, and watching it back was even better. Eddie didn’t know what to do. But he had to think quickly because his time was limited. He hesitantly knocked on the door and cleared his throat before he spoke. “ uhhh are you alright right in there?” he stuttered out his words. The knock on the door scared you. You let out a small scream as you ripped your hands away from yourself and up to your chest feeling your heart pounding. How much had Eddie heard? How much does he know you don’t think you’re being that loud? Where are you? Oh shit, maybe you were?

“Uhhh I’m-I’m fine Ed’s” you managed to stutter. Oh my god, you were mortified. The handle of the door giggled like Eddie was trying to come in. “Come on sweetheart open the door I really need to come in,” he continued on jiggling the door until you unlocked it. Eddie needed to seize this moment. He was never going to have another opportunity like this.

“Eddie I-” You didn’t finish your sentence because Eddie had cut you off with a kiss as he cupped your face while backing you into the opposite wall. “You’re such a little pervert. I know what you think about now when you want to touch yourself, do you think about me and what my fingers can do to you huh?” Eddie broke away from the kiss and started kissing down your neck. All of this was so sudden. You had no idea that this was going to happen when you had left the basement. “I’m not a pervert!” You defend yourself. “No baby? So if I took your hand and sniffed these fingers I wouldn’t smell your pussy all over them?” he cocked his brow. “And I didn’t hear you moan my name twice just now?” He hummed. You had never heard Eddie speak like this, not even in your wildest dreams did you think he had such a filthy mouth. “You want me, baby? I heard you and your dirty words through the door. Do you want Eddie to make you feel good? Can’t get off without me? That's it huh?” Eddie’s cockiness was only making you wetter. “Fuck Eddie I need you I have needed you for so long. Please touch me.” You gasped as his plump lips sucked the delicate skin of your neck.

“Could have just asked baby, I would give you the world” His hand grazed up your leg to the open zipper of your jeans until his calloused fingers found the waistband of your baby pink panties. Your breath hitched as he found his way into your pants, brushing over the short hair of your mound to your slick wet slit. “Oh oh oh baby,” he chuckled darkly “you’ve been hiding this from me? I don’t think you deserve me to touch you, you’ve been very naughty. Tell me, baby, you always get this wet for me? What other dirty things do you do when I’m not around?” Your mind was numb with pleasure as Eddie slowly made contact with your pussy lips. He was being so mean like he was punishing you, grazing everywhere but your clit. “Fuck. Eddie please” you beg girding your hips up into his fingers to get some relief.

“I don’t think so sweetheart” you’ve been a very bad girl. “Have I? You try to spit back. “I recall you stealing my favourite pair of panties. Don’t play innocent Munson. I found them in your room yesterday.” You chide.

Eddie kissed you to shut you up. His tongue pushed its way into your mouth as you moaned in pleasure. Your slippery slick coated Eddie’s fingers as they prodded their way up into your tight hole. “Oh, Eddie!” You sighed. “Fuck say my name again” he growled.

“Eddie!” You moaned throwing your head against the wall. His fingers were so thick. He really knows how to work his fingers. “That’s it scream my name” his cocky smirk hasn’t left his face. All disregarding everyone downstairs, you didn’t try and keep quiet. Eddie watched your chest heave as your breasts raised and fell. His free hand scaled up your shirt over your bra. His hands explored your breasts and he pulled down the cup to free you. His hands worked your nipple and your clit. The way his fingers felt exploring your body only made the feeling in your core build and build. Eddie dipped his head to take your perked nipple in his mouth. You arched your back into him and his warm tongue latched onto you. A soft “Eddie baby” slipped from your lips as you were washed away with the feeling of everything Eddie. You were getting so close so fast, you had already warmed yourself up and Eddie was here to take all of the credit. Not that you’re complaining but the coil in your core was being wound up so tightly you need for it to snap. “I'm so close! please don’t stop.”

“Oh, so you are a good girl who knows her manners, go on then, on cum for me baby”

Eddie kissed the sweet spot on your neck while playing with your nipple with one hand and your pussy with the other. Your senses were on overdrive and you were bumming from his words. Your body shook and your release dripped down Eddie’s fingers. A few seconds later after you come down from your high you realize that he was having all the fun and you haven’t touched him yet. You graze your hand down his stomach, to the button of his black jeans. You quickly moved your fingers to unbutton and unzip his pants. You slide down the bathroom wall and get on your knees in front of Eddie. He gathered your hair in his hands and you pulled out his cock. “You’re complaining about me hiding from you when you’ve been holding out on me this whole time?” You don't hesitate. You start making out with the base of his cock moving your way up to the tip. You coddle his balls in one hand and use the other to tease the tip of his red cock. “Fuck” Eddie sucks in a breath. You continue to worship his cock. How could you not? It was so pretty, long and thick, and slightly curved to the right. Hearing Eddie whimpering above you was music to your ears. You loved the feel of the weight of him on your tongue. You swirled your tongue on his tip taking in the taste of his precum before sliding down his length to the hilt. His pubs tickled your nose but you ignored that as you hummed onto his cock. You bobbed your head up and down. It was messy and it was loud.

“Baby fuck fuck fuck if you keep going like that I’m-” Eddie couldn’t finish his sentence before he came down your throat. The hot thick liquid ran hot down your throat. “Shit I’m sorry I’m sorry” he panted as you continued to suck him dry. Humming in satisfaction. Eddie finally loosened the grip of your hair as you pulled back and opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue to show him you’d swallowed it all. Eddie’s eyes went wide, he hadn’t expected you to be so filthy, just for him. He pulled you back up by your hair to stick his tongue down your throat. A giggle left your mouth and he pulled away.

“We are so doing that again” he breathed.

A pounding on the bathroom door made you both jump.

“We get it you guys are disgusting! Let's get back to the game please!” The sound of Lucas’s angry voice came from the other side of the door. You could practically hear his eye-roll. Eddie and you burst out laughing “Come on baby, the Dungeon Master needs to finish up and then I will be seeing you later for more” Eddie left you in the bathroom, flushed and more than satisfied. You couldn’t wait for him to finish that sexy little game.

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disneyprincemuke · 3 months

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ღ this barbie’s teammate is a schumacher

notes: hello gays it is i, finally writing for barbie

she closes the car door and sighs with a small smile, looking at the building ahead of her. this will be her life until she decides otherwise. she shoves her car keys into her purse and watches curiously as another supercar pulls into the empty lot next to her.

is that who she thinks it is?

she takes a step towards her car, watching the car be parked into the slot flawlessly. she tilts her head when it comes to a stop, the driver's side opening to reveal its driver.

"oh!" she shrieks, running around the front of her car to approach the young man. "mick schumacher, right? i am such a big fan! i'm so excited to finally be working with you!"

the german takes a step back, overwhelmed by the sudden presence of the girl in pink approaching him. she has a pair of sunglasses resting on the top of her head, a fur coat on and a purse hanging off her elbow.

"oh, hi," mick smiles politely. he's not a mean person; he's just a little more introverted than the next guy. "i'm glad to be with honda this year. i'm looking forward to spending the year with you."

he was in deep thought before she came up to him. he wondered, as the way he's been doing for years, if the rumours that he'd been scouted for the second seat at the request of his boss's daughter. but who is he to complain; he's racing in f1 again. does it matter how he got back into it?

surely not.

but this girl that stands in front of him – could she be an intern? she looks fairly young, very enthusiastic, and a glimmer of hope in her eyes that he doesn't see from individuals his age often. perhaps a marketing intern.

"alright, well, i'll see you inside! i love the sweater, by the way!" she shrieks, waving at him with a wide smile. she waves at him as she walks away, cautiously crossing the parking lot as the rest of the cars for the day start to roll in. "and the car! you have to give me a tour someday!"

he waves back at her in confusion, only able to mutter a 'goodbye' to himself as she disappears into the big front doors of the building. he locks his car and follows her in the direction she left, ready to start his new year with a new team.

he spends the next 10 minutes navigating the new factory he'll be frequenting from now on. introducing himself to people, familiarising himself with the engineers he'll be working closely with, and other members of the team. it's a surprisingly bigger team than he had initially thought, so it takes him longer than he expected.

about 20 minutes introducing himself and trying to pin names with the new faces. then he ends up in a quiet office, shaking his leg in anticipation as he awaits his first face-to-face meeting with his new teammate and his boss.

he hears clicks of heels right by the door, prompting him to sit up a little straighter as he glances behind him quickly. he straightens his sweater, pulls his sleeves down and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. he can't screw himself over.

"i'm telling you, daddy, he's got the coolest car! i saw him in the parking lot earlier!" the door opens, revealing two figures with two familiar faces. which, shouldn't be the case, because this is the first time he's meeting his teammate.

"do you want one, honey?"

"no, that's so silly! i love my car!" she giggles, before abruptly stopping at the sight of his wide blue eyes staring at her in disbelief. "my car is perfectly fine! right, mick?"

mick blinks, swallowing the forming lump of guilt in his throat. he had no idea that the girl in the parking lot was going to be his teammate eventually.

oh god, and for him to assume that she's a marketing or pr intern? how humiliating. how would he feel if someone were to think that of his sister was a mere backend worker when she is something more?

"yes," he answers by default, not really remembering what she was asking him. he immediately pushes himself up to his feet and extends a hand to her first. "i'm sorry. i don't believe i got your name in the parking lot – i didn't know you were going to be my teammate. i'm so sorry."

"oh, don't worry about it. it happens a lot." she introduces herself before quickly walking away, running over to the empty seat next to him.

mick huffs, grinning at her father before he takes a seat. but the entire time, all he can think of is how embarrassed he is for misjudging her. "you don't care that i didn't take you for a driver at first?"

she looks off blankly, pressing her lips together before shaking her head. she turns to him again. "it's not like i told you," she grins. "anyway, do you like japanese curry? that's my favourite – i'll make you some when we meet again for pre-season."

taglist: @cashtons-wife @darleneslane @namgification @happy-nico @nikfigueiredo @localwhoore @angsthology @renarots @elliegrey2803 @cha-hot @cosmoscoffeee @fanficweasley @sugarhoneylemons @aquangxl @omgsuperstarg @strawberryubin @lovecarsgoingvroom @mangotaitai @cherry-piee @ladyladybuggg @lethalvenus @gentlyweeps-world @spilled-coffee-cup @charizznorizz @wcnorris @storminacloud @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @leilanixx @daniellef89x @fezlvr @lavisenri @xcharlottemikaelsonx @ultraviolencesam @selsbackyard @ilove-tswizzle @riddle-me-im-sirius @kindestofkings

#mick schumacher x reader #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #formula 1 fanfic #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke sd

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t-lostinworlds · 1 month

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Big, Hormonal Heart | Bucky Barnes

》 PAIRING: bucky barnes x pregnant!female!reader

》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship (marriage), fluff fluff fluff

》 SUMMARY: It'd probably take more than one lifetime for Bucky to list reasons why he was so lucky to call you his wife. He was certain your big heart was one of them. One that grew even more with pregnancy hormones. It was sweet, how you to got so upset when they got his order wrong. Your meal was perfectly fine. But when his wasn't? Oh it was a crime.

》 WARNINGS: pregnancy, a dog named Snow and Alpine the cat, pet names (doll, baby, my love, sweetheart), emotional!r (she cries. like, most of the fic), husband!bucky being the sweetest, domesticity and just overall fluff (pretty tame fic ngl)

》 WORD COUNT: 2.5k+

A/N: this idea was super random. i saw an insta reel of a pregnant woman having mood swings over some food and then everyone was sharing their experiences in the comments and i got inspired so here ya go alksalkss. DISCLAIMER! I'm not pregnant nor have i ever been lol. I did as much research as i could but still, don't count on me to be 100% accurate.

++ ALSO this was written in just a few hours. this isn't my best work. just something i wanted to write as an exercise since i haven't written anything in months. anyways, i hope you enjoy!

📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ B. BARNES MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩

⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

If someone had told him years ago that he was going to live in a quaint home in the suburbs, a lovely backyard space for a dog and a cat to enjoy, and that he'd be married to the absolute love of life, an angel on earth who was now carrying his first child—

He honestly would've stared at them dead in the eye, wondering how someone could make such a cruel joke.

Yet here he was, actually living it, a life that seemed so much like a dream.

Though he was quickly reminded of how real this was as he stood in the nursery, glaring at the manual that came with the crib you two had bought from the furniture store.

It looked simple enough at first—putting together ready-made pieces should be easy, right?

Wrong.

Not when you have countless amounts of screws that more or less looked the same but were actually not because each served a different purpose.

He was in the middle of figuring out how to install the legs to the main base when you walked into the room with your two bodyguards—Alpine the Cat and Snow the five-year-old Samoyed—in tow.

"How's it going, handsome?" you hummed as you reached his side, arms wrapping around his waist, your warmth immediately easing the frustration he had about this goddamn crib.

"It's…" he sighed, gesturing at the wooden pieces scattered around the floor. "Going."

You laughed at that, kissing his clothed shoulder before standing in front of him.

Bucky held your waist then, pulling you as close as he could given that your baby bump was in the middle of you both.

He honestly couldn't begin to express how much comfort and warmth covered his whole being every time he was met with the absolute love in your eyes.

And Bucky was sure his gaze shined the same.

So many people have pointed it out on numerous occasions, the twinkle in his eyes every time they land on you—his beautiful wife.

"I was thinking," you murmured, resting your hands on his chest, moving up his shoulder and down again in a sweet caress. "How about a quick break while we order some food?"

It was only about an hour after lunch, so Bucky wasn't particularly keen on filling his stomach some more.

But you, on the other hand, were nearing the end of your second trimester. It wasn't out of the norm for you to be hungry at this time, given you were eating for two. Plus, there was an added layer that your little peanut probably had some super soldier serum in their DNA—the baby's appetite could be enhanced for all he knew.

Other than that, the last thing Bucky wanted was an angry and hungry pregnant wife. So it wasn't really a hard decision to make.

"Okay, let's get you something to eat," he said.

Ever the observant person that you were, you quickly noticed his choice of words.

"For me?" you asked, brows furrowed. "You're not hungry?"

Bucky shook his head. "Not really."

Your bottom lip went.

He instantly knew he said the wrong thing.

"But I'm hungry," you murmured, eyes starting to glisten.

He could never explain it even if he tried, but whenever you got upset, your bodyguards always seemed to notice it. The two have always been protective of you and that only grew tenfold when you got pregnant.

Today wasn't an exception.

Snow barked at him, whining his complaints as he put his fifty-pound body between your legs, slightly pushing Bucky back. The furball was well trained though, so his protectiveness never went too far beyond being vocal about it. Alpine, on the other hand, was sitting a foot away, glaring at Bucky—quite the traitor given that she was supposed to be his cat, but he couldn't blame her for loving you, either—as if she knew it was his fault you were upset.

But still, Bucky wasn't quite sure what he'd done wrong.

"I know, sweetheart," he said slowly, a little confused, trying to navigate around Snow who was pawing at his leg as if trying to push him further away. "I'll order some food for you."

"But you're not hungry," you repeated, body slumping with sadness.

"I'm not," he agreed, quickly cupping your face when a tear slipped from your eyes. "But hey, hey, that doesn't mean we can't still order food for you, doll."

"No, I know," you sniffled.

"So, what's making you upset, hmm?"

You buried your face in his chest with a shaky breath as you said,

"I don't want to eat alone."

Bucky paused, pressing his lips and swallowing down a laugh because he couldn't have you thinking he was making fun of you. He wasn't. But you were so adorable it made his chest ache.

"Okay, okay," he hummed, kissing the side of your head as he rubbed your back in comfort. "I'll order something for me, too."

•••

A few minutes later, your little family migrated to the living room. You both were sitting on the couch together, the two furballs sprawled at your feet as a random show played on TV. Various take-out bags covered the coffee table, way too many for two people but hey, that's what fridges and microwaves are for.

Fondness filled Bucky's bones as he watched you settle your food on your lap, doing what he called your Cravings Satisfied Wiggle.

He couldn't contain his chuckle.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, words a little muffled with your mouth full. "What?"

"Happy?" he asked, reaching over to wipe the sauce on the corner of your mouth.

"Very much," you giggled, eyes wrinkling at the corners.

Even after all these years, the sight of your pure joy still made his heart stutter, chest growing warmer when you leaned closer with a pout.

Bucky met you halfway for a short yet sweet kiss.

"Thank you," you hummed, even though there was no need for you to thank him for ordering you food.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

Reaching over the table, he took the one and only paper bag that was for him, because again, he wasn't that hungry.

"Oh."

"What's wrong?" You turned to him in concern.

"It's not a big deal," he reassured with a smile, shrugging because it really wasn't. "They got mine wrong."

You frowned. "You didn't get the nuggets?"

"No, they give me the burger meal," he said. "They must've misheard me.

Bucky immediately perked up when your lips started to tremble.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly, cupping your face to wipe away your tears.

"You—" you sniffled. "You didn't get your nuggets."

Bucky pressed his lips to stop a smile.

God you were so fucking cute.

"It's okay, baby," he soothed. "I'm fine with a burger, too."

You cried even harder.

Snow and Alpine quickly stood, all alert and concerned as they nudged your leg.

"You wanted the nuggets, Bucky," you insisted, choking back a sob. "But you didn't get it."

He carefully pulled you closer, rubbing your back in comfort as you laid your head on his shoulder. "I know, but it's okay—"

"No, it's not!" you protested, all teary and frustrated, pulling away to glare at him. "You deserve to get what you want. Y-You deserve all the good things after e-everything."

Bucky might honestly start crying too with how sweet you were being.

"Oh doll, come here," he placated, pulling you in for a hug while trying to navigate the food on your lap.

He could take it away for safety, but he'd already learned his lesson the hard way. Taking food away from a pregnant woman was a death sentence.

"I want you to be happy," you sniffled, burying your face against his neck. "You wanted the nuggets and they disrespected that."

It took so much for him not to let out a chuckle. Because as much as Bucky hated to see you crying and upset, he couldn't deny how adorably funny this whole conversation was.

But you'd always had the biggest heart. Whether that was crying over those rescue animal videos, emotional scenes in movies, to feeling upset over something he was experiencing—your empathy was always high.

What more with the pregnancy hormones in the mix?

"How about I ask them to change it?"

Again, wrong thing to say.

He needed to get better at this.

"But they're probably so stressed and overworked already," you sobbed. "A-And it's about to rain. I don't want the delivery guy to get wet in the rain. T-They already don't get paid enough."

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he hummed, rubbing your back. "Will you look at me, my love?"

You lifted your head then, Bucky's heart aching at the absolute distress on your features—pout in full play, eyes a little bloodshot with tear stains on your skin.

He cupped your cheeks with a soft smile, placing gentle kisses all over your face, unrelenting until you let out a whine of protest. He stopped then, thankful to see that you'd calmed down now.

"I promise you, the burger meal is perfectly fine with me. I'm not mad or upset about it. I don't mind it at all," he said.

You took a calming deep breath and nodded. It only took a second for you to look at him sheepishly.

"Sorry I overreacted," you whispered, embarrassed.

"Hey, none of that," he lightly scolded. "All the emotions you're feeling will always be valid."

You smiled, small yet sweet, leaning in and kissing him with as much gratitude as you could muster.

"Besides, it makes me feel so honored to know that you're willing to fight for my chicken nugget rights."

"Shut up, Barnes."

•••

You and Bucky always had a nightly routine and it usually consisted of the two of you getting ready for bed in your own different ways. They were intertwined, but not exactly the same. Like you'd be doing some skin care in the bathroom while he would be brushing his teeth.

But ever since you got pregnant, your routine became more in sync.

It usually started with a bath that he'd run for you. Most of the time he'd end up joining you, the length of said bath varying since that usually depended on what mood you were in. Bucky was always at the service of meeting his wife's needs, after all.

Recently, now that your bump wasn't particularly easy to navigate, he'd helped you get ready for bed. From getting dressed to your skin care, including rubbing some moisturizer on your stomach. That part was one of his favorite things to do.

Then it was the typical things, getting dressed, brushing your teeth—this one you stopped him from doing it for you even though he was more than willing—and overall just getting ready for bed.

Once you’d settled on the pregnancy pillow that Bucky fluffed up for you, he'd sit near the foot of the bed to give your sore feet a massage while you read a book.

Tonight, right when he was in the middle of doing that, he heard you sniffle.

Bucky looked up in concern, catching you already staring at him with tears already in your eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking you over. "Does something hurt?"

"No, I-I'm okay. I just—" You cut yourself off with a sob.

Bucky quickly moved beside you, pulling you onto his lap as he wrapped his arms around your form. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, body shaking as you cried.

"Hey, hey, talk to me," he murmured against your hair. "Tell me what's wrong."

"It's just—" You let out a shaky breath. "You're always taking care of me."

"Of course, sweetheart, you're my wife," he said. "And not only because it's my duty as your husband, but because I love you so much."

That made you cry even harder.

"I l-love you too, so much," you sobbed. "But I haven't been able to take care of you lately and that's not f-fair."

Bucky felt his heart grow as if it wasn't already bursting at the seams.

How could someone be so selfless and sweet?

"You're pregnant, my love," he stated the obvious reason as to why. "Besides, I'm capable of taking care of myself. It's alright."

"No, it's not," you argued, pulling away slightly to face him. "You deserve to be taken care of, too! You deserve to get pampered a-and a break but you're always fussing over me and taking care of me instead. I'm not helping with any of it. I'm just making it harder for you."

"No, absolutely not," he stated firmly, holding your face in his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. "I love taking care of you. It honestly makes me feel so fulfilled and happy when I do."

"Really?" you sniffled.

"Yes. It's the least I could do with everything that you've been going through right now," he said truthfully, adding with a chuckle, "Hell, if I could carry our baby so you wouldn't have to go through all the pain I would."

That earned him a small laugh.

"But I want to take care of you, too," you admitted after a deep breath.

"You already are," he hummed, thumb stroking your cheek lovingly. "You're taking care of our baby and my heart, and those are very important to me."

You scrunched up your nose adorably.

"That was so cheesy."

"But it's true, though."

You smiled, cupping his face. Bucky turned his head to kiss your palm.

"Thank you," you sighed fondly. "For putting up with me and for everything."

"First off, I'm not putting up with anything," he reassured, kissing your other palm before adding, "Second, you never have to thank me for taking care of you. Never."

You nodded, leaning closer to press your lips against his, pouring all your love and gratitude into it. Bucky kissed you back with the same fervor, never needing words to express what you truly feel for each other.

He felt so content—feeling your lips, your fingers tangled in his hair, and your little peanut asking for attention too, kicking the second Bucky rested hand on your bump.

When you let out a soft, needy whine, he was ready to take the kiss even further.

That was until a wet tongue met his cheek.

Bucky groaned in annoyance, pulling away to see Snow giving you a kiss, too. He couldn't be angry at the dog for ruining the moment when your lovely laugh echoed in the air. Alpine jumped on the bed a second later, nudging her head against Bucky's chin before walking over to place a loving paw on your bump.

His smile was as bright as it could be as he watched the scene before him.

A wonderful home, a wholesome family that involved his beautiful, loving wife and two furballs, his family that was only getting bigger in a few months—

Yeah.

Bucky Barnes was one lucky man.

✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ♛ *.

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807 notes · View notes

ibbythebee · 8 months

Text

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader smut #fred weasley smut #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n

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distantdarlings · 5 months

Text

RECIPROCATION // e. berkshire

RATING: R / 3.7K WORDS

Enzo Berkshire x Reader Insert (No gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - *Requested (based on this)* Enzo Berkshire has a tendency to flirt with you. You reciprocate the flirtation, thinking that he genuinely may like you, but that hope is screwed up when he seems to be flirting with another person.

+ WARNINGS - Language, kissing, nothing else really, not fully proof-read (Fluff, Romance)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

As Long As You Love Me - Sleeping At Last

(Note: I am very sorry for the sudden delay in all of my writing. To be quite honest, I started a new job and got into a car crash this week and haven't been writing at all. Please accept this request, and I will have pt. 5 of By the Fireplace out ASAP)

---

“Hey, darling, wait up!”

The voice came from behind you. You pivoted on your heels, stopping right in your tracks on your way to Defense Against Dark Arts, and glanced around. Your eyes circled the hallway until they landed on a waving hand attached to a grinning body. A smile spread over your lips as you recognized the voice's owner. Lorenzo Berkshire. Handsome, funny, old-money rich, with a side of infamy due to his frightening family.

He stopped before you, panting slightly from the jog up to you. His face was a bit flushed, and his lips were parted with a bit of shine spread over them. He looked absolutely breathtaking. You nearly had to steady yourself as he combed his fingers through his hair.

“Well, hello, Berkshire. Are you on your way to class as well?” You turned back the way you were initially heading and started off, beckoning for him to follow. He gave a slight nod, never dropping his glorious smile.

“Yeah, I spotted you on my way out of the courtyard and figured I’d walk with you,” he said, “it’d give me a chance to see my favorite person.” Your stomach flushed. Favorite person? You could have fainted.

“Well, I’m glad you wanted to walk with me,” you smiled, clutching your books tightly against your chest.

Enzo had always been an enormous flirt—specifically toward you. You’d be lying if you said you minded it; after all, the boy was absolutely gorgeous and practically everything you could ever want out of a romantic partner. He oozed radiance and dripped sex. Damn it. Your eyes watched as he jogged ahead of you to grab the door to the classroom, the muscles along his forearm rippling wonderfully. Merlin’s sake, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a Muggle romance novel.

You flashed him your best smile and slipped through the door, watching as he followed quickly behind you.

The two of you had been friends for a very long time—almost since first year, to be exact. Halfway through second year, the two of you had been paired together for a project in Potions class, and not only had you succeeded in working together flawlessly, but you’d also grown really close. He had always been a good friend to you, no matter what you needed. He was, quite honestly, more than you deserved. But, on the darker side of things, as he grew older, he grew quite flirty. At every turn, he was tracing you with his eyes or making a quick quip about your eyes or your clothing. It was more than you could handle on some days. Your platonic feelings toward him had very quickly become romantic feelings.

You selected your usual seat in the classroom and kicked the chair beside you out so Enzo could take his place next to you. You mentally prepared yourself for a whole period of brushing elbows, skimming shoes, and knowingly glancing at each other. Why wouldn’t he just admit he liked you already? There was apparent tension between the two of you—even other people had caught on. So why couldn’t he just admit it? Granted, you could say the same for yourself.

Once the Professor had settled everybody in and started with the lecture, you saw Enzo begin to rummage through his bag slowly, trying not to disturb anyone. One hand held the fabric pocket open while the other selected his class journal and his ink kit. You’d already had your things set out by now, but you figured he was just a little behind, per usual. Not that it was a bad thing. It was sort of endearing.

Through glances out of the corner of your eye, you saw him flip his journal open, collect a generous amount of ink on the tip of his quill, and begin to write. The soft scratches of the quill’s tip tickled the edges of your ear, sending a line of chills down your arm. There was only a tiny amount of information written on the board so far, so he should have no trouble keeping up.

After a few minutes of continuous scratching, Enzo’s elbow gently bumped yours. Discreetly, you looked over at him and scrunched your eyebrows in silent question. He gestured with his head to the small folded paper beside me. How odd, you hadn’t even heard him tear it out. You quietly placed your quill into its ink well and slipped the note between your stomach and the desk to conceal the message from the professor.

Have I mentioned that you are looking absolutely ravishing today? Your jaw nearly dropped. With wide eyes, you looked over at him. A smug smirk was printed on his face as he sent an addicting wink your way. You tried your hardest not to blush, but, of course, you’d failed. Must he always be this…severe? You flipped the note over to the other side and wrote: I think this letter was meant for someone else. Unless you have something to tell me? You passed it back. He wrote quickly.

Of course not, darling. Just that you are the most beautiful person in this room. In attempted controlled laughter, the two of you shouldered the other. You knew he was joking, but still, you quietly slipped the paper into your bag. Something about those words in his handwriting directed to you had you blushing. You both returned to your note-taking for the class.

A few moments of comfortable silence passed before you noticed Enzo’s shoulder shaking with silent laughter. You looked over briefly, seeing a note in his hands. You thought it may have been the same one the two of you had been communicating on before you remembered that you had put that one in your bag. A closer glance revealed that Enzo’s handwriting was on the paper, as was someone else’s. You didn’t recognize the penmanship. You leaned a bit closer, careful not to disturb him as he read the note.

Have you considered who you will invite to the winter formal? A question to Enzo. Then, his response. I’ve thought long and well about it, darling. Your heart clenched. You flicked your eyes around the room, trying to guess who had sent the note, and landed on some girl from Hufflepuff giggling to her friend and occasionally casting glances at a smirking Enzo. Her eyes caught yours, and you quickly dropped the contact, returning to your notes. Was Enzo taking one of them to the formal? Because you’d honestly thought…never mind.

Your fingers subconsciously tightened around your quill; so tight, in fact, that your knuckles bled white and the end of its feather creased.

“Woah,” Enzo laughed, “what did that quill ever do to you?” His voice snapped you out of your internal rage. Tendrils of guilt and jealousy spiraled around your throat.

“Nothing, just tired,” you lied, releasing your death grip on the quill and returning to your work. You ignored him for the rest of class, completely missing the nervous glances he threw you every so often.

By the end of the lecture, you’d packed your things as quickly as possible and headed out the door, not bothering to wait for Enzo to catch up. Perhaps it was childish, but you really thought he might have had feelings for you. But it seemed that the natural flirtation may just be part of his personality.

You blew a sigh through your lips and pushed a hand through your hair. Surely, there was an explanation as to why he seemed to prefer you to other students. He never followed those Hufflepuff girls around like he did you. Or did he? Maybe you just hadn’t seen him doing it. You suppressed the urge to let out a groan. Why couldn’t romance and crushes and love be simple?

You headed toward the Great Hall to stock up on a bit of lunch; there was no way in hell you were eating in there today. With your luck, you’d crash right into Enzo and have him demand why you stormed out of class. Not that he’d demand anything. He was always so gentle with you…no, shut up. You weren’t going to think about him anymore today. You need to forget about it and focus on studying for your test in Potions today.

You were kind of absolutely terrible at the class and needed all the help you could get. More than once, you’d been tempted to write the answers on your hand and briefly turn them invisible with a simple spell, but you weren’t that low. You weren’t going to cheat. Enzo was good at Potions class. He could help—

“Ugh!” You pushed the boy out of your head as you turned into the Great Hall, conjuring a small cloth napkin. It fell into your hand delicately and displayed itself evenly as you began to pack a few things onto it—a bit of cheese, some grapes, a muffin. You smiled to yourself as your stomach rumbled. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until just now. All of this worrying about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named-Jr. (not the noseless one) had your stomach clawing for some sustenance.

You scooped all of the food together and tied a small knot into the napkin, slipping it into your cloak pocket. One of the goblets you’d gotten from your birthday last year appeared before you, and you poured some pumpkin juice into it. You wouldn’t take one of their goblets because you knew you’d forget to return it. Wandlessly, you sent it back to your dormitory.

You turned and headed toward the grand doors, eyes toward the ground. You whisked across the stone floors, focusing on one thing only: getting back to your dorm without bumping into any…unmentionables.

A few familiar voices swirled around you as they passed by. You tucked your head even more, realizing it was a few of Enzo’s friends. You were friendly with them and knew they’d say something and draw attention to you if they recognized you. You prayed they wouldn’t notice.

And just as you had ducked your head once more and pulled the edges of your cloak over your face, you ran straight into a solid wall of Slytherin boy. You grunted from the impact and braced for the fall on your ass when he caught you quickly and steadied you. You didn’t need to look up to know who it is. You’d know his scent anywhere.

Swallowing your pride, you glanced up and made quick eye contact with Enzo. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern, and his eyes flickered over your face. You figured he was searching for some answer to your behavior earlier. You sighed and shook your head slightly, dropping the eye contact. The fingers from his left hand tightened around your arm, and his right hand tilted your head to return his gaze to yours. Embarrassed, you jerked your head out of his grasp and pushed past him.

Your legs moved faster than they had in a long while as you practically ran up to your dorm, trying to restrain the tears pooling in your eyes. That was quite literally the most embarrassing thing to have ever happened to you. Whether it was your imagination or not, you’d thought that the people around the two of you had completely silenced themselves and had been watching you. Your cheeks burned in shame. Curse this stupid crush.

Once you come upon the entrance to the Slytherin common room, you quickly speak the password and swipe a few falling tears from your cheeks. You prayed that no one was seated in the common room lest you fully die of mortification. Surely, Enzo had just been doing that because of his usual flirtatious behavior. Nothing else explains why he would have touched you like that. So gently and easily as he reconnected your eyes. The way he had looked at you as he held you tightly to keep you from falling. His lips had parted with a small exhale that had danced across your cheeks, cool and smelling of sweet mint. His thumb had brushed the surface of your chin, daring you to place your lips on it. Fuck!

You pushed through your dormitory door and pressed your hands to your face. You collapsed onto your bed, a small sob leaving your body. Fuck, you were so ashamed. Everything about Enzo swirled around your brain just as it did every day. Every detail of his face was sharp and gorgeous as if carved by Merlin himself. The curve of his lips, the tilt of his cheekbones, the way his hands seemed to always lay upon you somehow. Whether it was tilting your chin up to force your eyes back to his or pressing a hand along the small of your back to lead you forward, it didn’t matter what he was doing. All of it made the rate of your breath increase substantially. Every piece of him made up the strokes of your dreams. You were absolutely in l—

Your name cut your thoughts off. Enzo slammed through the dormitory door, eyes frantic and wild, darting around the room. When they fell upon you as you lay curled up, pitiful and sobbing, in your bed, he pushed the door shut and sped over to you. He squatted down beside the bed until his eyes were level with yours. You refused to look at him. His eyes never left you. As always, he never backed down, while you did so easily. He was so much better than you.

His hand slowly raised above your head that was pressed into the mattress. Your eyes watched him as he moved, and as he reached the edge of your skull, he let it hover there. You glanced up at him in question, and his eyebrows raised. You nodded. His hand gently laid against the side of your head, slowly rolling his thumb from the tip of your eyebrow to your hairline. It was soothing, and his hands were soft and warm. You felt safe beneath his large grip.

“What happened?” he whispered, eyes searching yours. “Was it something I did or said? If it was something that I caused, we can talk about it. I promise I’ll fix—”

“It’s not you, En,” you interrupted, your voice crackling beneath the weight of your pathetic tears. You were mortified. “It’s me, I guess I just…I just thought…” The words refused to leave your mouth. Your eyes closed in frustration.

“You thought what? Tell me,” he whispered, scooting his face closer to yours, his thumb never stopping its calming motion.

“It’s stupid,” you whined.

“No, it’s not,” he replied, “it’s making you upset. I want to fix it…did someone do something to you?” You shook your head. The culprit of your current emotional status was none other than yourself.

“I wanted you to ask me to the formal,” you winced in embarrassment, “and I got upset that you’re asking that girl in Defense instead…” His eyes widened for a moment, and he said nothing. My God, this was the worst day of your life. Your eyes welled up with tears at the possibility of verbal rejection. “God, I know I sound like a toddler, whining like this, but I really like you, En.”

“You don’t sound like a toddler,” he said. His face moved even closer to yours. You could feel his breath on your face now and count each individual eyelash. His eyelids were half-closed now, an air of intimacy spinning between the two of you. “I like you too…a lot.”

The pitch of his voice pushed a shiver through you. The feeling of acceptance brushed through you quickly, elating your heartbeat. Enzo liked you back? Fuck, Enzo liked you back. Your eyes refused to leave his, now. Your heart pounded in your ears, echoing against the back of your skull.

“I…” you breathed, your voice trailing off. Could you even get the words out? Your breath shuddered as his hands slid down the top of your head to pinch your chin again. He held you in place, his fingers so warm against your skin. His thumb brushed slowly over your top lip.

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed. Each exhale from his lips painted the edges of your jawline, teasing longing out of you. Enzo wanted to kiss you. You wanted to kiss him so badly. You slowly nodded your head.

Then his fingers weren’t so easy as he pulled himself roughly to your face. His lips crashed against yours, clacking your teeth together. You gasped into his mouth as he stood and slipped onto the bed over you, never once separating your lips. Your heart felt as though it was going to explode. You weren’t sure if you could handle this feeling.

Your fingers tightened in his smooth hair, reveling in the feeling of the delicate strands. He sighed against your lips as the motion tugged at his scalp. Every feeling, every touch, every brush of his lips was almost too much for you to accept. Your chest rose heavily at the feeling, your heart thrashing against your rib cage. You were sure if he kept on, with him caressing every inch of the inside of your mouth, you’d faint.

You jerked away from him, pushing yourself out from under him and against your headboard.

“I’m sorry. Was that too far?” he immediately spoke. His hair was tousled, his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were swollen. He looked absolutely ethereal. The air entered and left his chest at a rapid pace. His fingers nervously closed around your blanket.

“No!” you practically screamed. “It wasn’t too far…I thought my chest was going to burst.” You chuckled breathlessly, pressing a shaking hand against your heart. You had dreamed of that feeling for months, and getting to experience it so suddenly had you reeling. Enzo was flawless, and every aspect of his perfect being was pushing your shattered self back together. He was more than just a crush.

“I’m sorry, I’m a bit embarrassed,” you laughed.

“Me too,” he smiled sheepishly, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time; I suppose I was a bit too eager.” Fuck, he was perfect.

“You’ve wanted to kiss me for a long time?” He looked at you as if you were slow. As if his following words were the only possible response that could have come out of his mouth.

“Of course I have,” he laughed, “have I not been terribly obvious? I thought it was easy to see that I’ve been utterly in love with you for the last year.” Your lips fell apart in shock.

“You…love me?”

“Yes,” he breathed. His eyes flickered down to your lips once again. Everything in your body urged you to touch him again, to feel his lips on yours, but you wanted more information.

“But, why?” you laughed.

“Why? Oh, you have no idea. I am in love with you. You are the most perfect person I have ever met—” his hands removed themselves from the blankets to press to either side of your face—“your personality, your humor, your mind, everything about you makes my heart swell. When you look at me, when you walk next to me, when your arms would brush me in class…those small gestures have always been enough to sustain a deep desire to be loved by you.”

“En—”

“If you do not reciprocate those feelings, that is okay. I’m not going to force you to feel anything toward me. The feeling of that kiss was enough, and if you asked me never to speak to you again…it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I will do it, knowing that I told you my true feelings. The feeling of your lips on mine has renewed me forever.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed. The two of you laughed as tears welled in your eyes. The impact of Enzo’s words had hit you like a train, burrowing deep into the vessels of your heart. You never knew someone could be capable of loving in a way such as that, let alone the recipient of that love being you. And to think that he wasn’t even sure if you loved him back. To think he said all of that, not knowing if he’d ever feel the same thing in return. It was enough for the tears to begin sliding down your cheeks.

“Please don’t cry,” he whispered. His thumbs gently brushed the liquid away from your cheeks. A small smile was plastered on his face, and his eyes were easy and comforting.

“En,” you sobbed, your voice shaking, “of course I love you back. That’s why I was so upset earlier. I’ve loved you for so long. All I think of is you…I have to push you from my thoughts to get anything done.” The two of you laughed quietly.

“I’m that distracting?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow teasingly. You rolled your eyes and nodded, the smile refusing to leave your lips. Your cheeks ached beneath the pull of the grin, but nothing was going to pull it away from you. You were much too happy for that.

He pulled your body against him, cradling your head lovingly against his chest as your arms wrapped around his waist. He smelled sweet and familiar, his heartbeat pushing slightly against your cheek. The feeling of him pressed against you was more than you ever could have hoped for. His strong arms held you tightly in place, warding off anything that could ever get to you. Within Enzo’s hold, you felt like you could survive anything as if his body was energizing you. The love surging through your veins slipped against his, eternally binding them together. You were Enzo’s, and he was yours; that was all you’d ever hoped for. The universe had been particularly kind today. You smiled, your eyes slipping closed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips pressed into your hair. You took a moment to relish in the feeling of having someone say that to you, of having him say that to you. It felt so perfect.

“I love you too, En.”

#fanfiction #creative writing #fanfic #writing #reader insert #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #oneshot #slytherin #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #gender neutral reader #request #fluff

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domjaehyun · 1 year

Text

SURVIVING NO NUT NOVEMBER (L.MK, L.DH)

MEMBERS. mark lee x fem!reader x lee haechan

GENRE. smut…that’s it… some humor

WORD COUNT. 28.8k (i’m not apologizing and you can’t make me)

CONTENTS. weed consumption, haechan favoritism (it’s me. what did you expect), explicit smut (slightest of dubcon, chasing kink (? y’all idk), quite a bit of edging/orgasm denial (giving), dry humping, handjobs, blowjobs, cunnilingus, finger sucking, bit of spit kink, unprotected sex, creampie, double penetration, anal, rimming (receiving), overstimulation (receiving), praise kink, some slight degradation, bratty switch!reader, bratty switch!haechan, needy switch!mark, haechan really likes calling you “puppy,” i think that’s it)

NOTES. hi :3 thank you to my love @ncteez (hon) for beta reading this for me! i’m on my mark & haechan monster cock agenda thank you very much :)

PLAYLIST. video games - sun // seduce - russ // pth - emanuel

Sunday, November 1st.

“As usual, I think you’re full of it.” Lia sizes up Haechan, her scrutinizing stare so chilling that it affects you as an innocent bystander simply sitting next to Haechan.

“I’m not,” Haechan fiercely defends himself, jabbing his thumb into his chest emphatically. “I totally did take three edibles and, yes, I did see God! She was not pleased with me,” Haechan finishes in a mumble, scratching the back of his neck anxiously.

“What makes you think you saw God and not, like, her secretary angel or something?” Jaemin asks with a brow raised, and Haechan grimaces.

“What, am I not important or special enough to meet Miss God herself? I got some divine being several rungs down the holy corporate ladder?” Haechan counters, and the silence that falls over your table is deafening. “Wow.”

“Sorry,” Yeji says, shrugging. “It’s not personal.”

“Yeah, well, it sure feels personal,” Haechan grouches. Turning to you, he shakes your arm and whines loudly, saying, “You think I’m important and special, right?”

You look at his plate of food with scheming eyes. “Give me some of your fries and I’ll agree with you.”

“Agree with me and I’ll give you some of my fries,” he says, turning it back on you, and you pause to think. As if to make his deal even more appealing, Haechan holds up a forkful of fries, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Screw you guys, Haechan is definitely important and special enough to meet God after tripping too hard on edibles.” you say, scowling at every member sitting at the table for good measure. You look at Haechan, waiting for his approval, and he nods with a pleased smile, placing his hand under the fork to catch anything that might fall.

“Say ‘ah,’” Haechan coos, bringing the forkful to your mouth. You roll your eyes in amusement but oblige, letting Haechan feed you the fries.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile, which he returns.

“You’re welcome, baby,” he replies casually, watching in satisfaction out of the corner of his eye as you stiffen in surprise, your mind buffering for several moments before it starts working again. He chuckles and nudges you with his knee under the table secretly before resuming his eating.

“If you two are finished,” Lia says pointedly, and your cheeks warm as you look at her sheepishly. “I was going to say that in honor of November starting today, there’s a challenge I wanna share.”

“Share, please,” you say quickly, eager to switch the attention to someone else.

“It’s called November, in which I try to make it through every day of November,” she announces proudly, and you point an accusing finger across the table at her.

“You stole that off of Twitter!” you exclaim, and she rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t say it was my challenge,” she replies, and you narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“I’m onto you.”

“Okay,” Lia says, dismissive yet amused.

“I think we should try a monthly challenge,” Yeji suggests. “There’s No Shave November, National Novel Writing Month, No Nut November—”

“Ha!” Jaemin snorts in amusement. “Some of us couldn’t handle No Nut November.” He casts Haechan a side look which is not unnoticed.

Haechan huffs. “Why are you looking at me? I can totally do No Nut November.”

“Sure, you can,” you say, patting his hand comfortingly.

“Why do you sound like you don’t believe me?” Haechan frowns.

“Probably because I don’t,” you reply simply, and Jeno snickers into his food.

“You know what?” Jeno puts his fork down and rubs his hands together. “If you can make it through No Nut November, I will give you my entire weed stash.”

Haechan’s brows raise in surprise. “Damn. You really don’t think I can do it.”

“Nope.” Jeno replies, and Haechan huffs.

“You’re on—but I get to pick a buddy,” he proposes, and Jeno shrugs.

“Sure. I don’t think anyone at this table is willing to go in on that challenge, though.”

When everyone at the table murmurs some sort of agreement, Haechan’s face lights up, visibly getting an idea, and he pulls his phone out, tapping it a couple of times before setting it on the table.

“Hello?” Mark’s whispering voice comes in through the speaker, and you and Jaemin share a skeptical look.

“Mark?” Lia laughs, begrudgingly falling silent when Haechan shushes her.

“Mark, do you wanna do No Nut November with me this month?” Haechan asks hopefully.

“Hell, no,” Mark’s reply comes out clear as day, making everyone but Haechan stifle a laugh.

“Aw, come on! Jeno’s gonna give us his entire weed stash if we do it,” Haechan coaxes in a sing-song voice.

“No way,” Mark whispers back. Several moments pass, everyone at the table growing antsy, until Mark speaks again. “Fine. I’m in.”

“Great!” Haechan says all too loudly. “We’re gonna rock this challenge.”

“Yeah, okay,” Mark replies distractedly. “I gotta go now—I’m in class.”

“Oh, that’s why you were whispering—”

“Whispering, yeah. See you later, dude.” Mark murmurs hurriedly before the phone beeps to signal the end of the call.

“Well, that settles it,” Haechan says happily. “Jeno, get ready to kiss your stash of weed goodbye.”

“Oh, please,” Jaemin snorts derisively, “I bet you’ll be caving on day three.”

“Nope,” Haechan retorts, sticking out his tongue for good measure. “Nothing will fuck with me this month. As a matter of fact—”

“Haechan, don’t you have class, like, right now?” you cut him off, and he looks at the time, his eyes widening.

Stuffing forkfuls of food in his mouth, Haechan stands up from the table and waves goodbye before rushing off with his plate.

There’s a silence that passes before Lia speaks. “So I feel like it goes without saying that we, as their closest friends, legally have to fuck with them all of November.”

“‘We?’” Jeno raises his eyebrows in surprise and shakes his head. “I’m not turning them on.”

“Neither am I,” Jaemin says through his mouthful of sandwich. “Unless everyone gets real cool about a lot of things.”

“That also should have gone without saying, geniuses.” Lia rolls her eyes, and Jeno furrows his brows, narrowing his eyes before putting another forkful of ramen in his mouth and chewing. Turning to look at you, Lia continues, “I thought it was obvious that we’d collectively be fucking with them through one person.”

You slowly stop chewing. “Why are you looking at me?” You look at each of your friends. “Why are all of you looking at me?”

“You’re the only one with a weird enough relationship with them where it’d be normal for you to flirt with each other,” Yeji explains.

“Our relationship isn’t weird,” you say defensively, blanching at the unimpressed look Jaemin shoots you.

“Remember when you first met Haechan and he practically coughed up a lung trying to do that huge bong hit to impress you?” Jaemin reminds you, and you snicker as you think back.

“Yeah, that was funny,” you chuckle, and Lia sits forward.

“Or one of the first times we all hung out and watched the guys play video games and Mark kept dying because he was too busy looking at you?” she recalls, and you purse your lips.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little different from your average friendship,” you mumble reluctantly.

Jeno swallows his mouthful of noodles and points at you with his fork. “Didn’t Haechan call you ‘baby’ earlier?”

“Yeah, and Mark called you ‘babe’ the other day.” Yeji contributes, and you sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I mean, that was by accident, but I think I get it—”

“Haechan literally offered you food off of his fork today—”

“I get it!”

“Wait, that happened?” Lia asks, baffled, and Jeno nods.

“Yeah, he even said ‘open up’ when he put the food in her mouth.”

“Y’all.” You’re losing your patience.

“She actually took—wait, you actually took the food?” Yeji exclaims, and you bang the table with your hand to get their attention.

“I think,” you say slowly, “that I have heard enough about my questionable friendships with Mark and Haechan.” You look at Lia, who’s got the beginnings of a smirk on her lips. “What do I do?”

“Do anything and everything to get them to break during November.” Lia shrugs as if it was obvious.

“What if I can’t get them to cave?” You frown, doubtful of your abilities, and Jaemin waves a hand dismissively.

“That’s okay. As long as they experience mental turmoil and anguish, I’m satisfied.”

“Yeah, blue-ball them as hard as you can.” Jeno chimes in, and you look at each of your friends with a concerned expression.

“What kind of friend group is this?” you mumble, aghast, and Yeji snickers, leaning across the table to pat your hand reassuringly.

“One that enjoys chaos and mischief,” she answers, and you nod slowly.

“That is what I thought I signed up for.”

“Anyway, you’ll be good at this; I feel like you already know how to flirt with them,” Yeji assures you, and you purse your lips.

“I do,” you agree. “I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s my girl!” Lia cheers, and you snicker.

“This should be fun.”

Thursday, November 5th.

“Hey!” Jeno greets you after he opens the door.

“Hi, hi,” you chirp as you enter the apartment and remove your shoes by the door. Jeno shuts the door behind you and takes your bag from your arm before throwing an arm over your shoulder and leading you into the living room. “Hey, guys!”

Mark barely looks up from his laptop to wave at you, doing a double take before hurriedly sitting up straight and running a hand through his hair.

“Hey!” Mark sounds mildly panicked, looking over your shoulder at Jeno with a pointed stare. “Jeno didn’t tell us you were coming.”

“Sorry,” you and Jeno say, looking at each other. “Must have forgotten.” Jeno finishes with a shrug.

“It’s, uh, no problem, I’m just gonna grab something from my room.” Mark says as casually as possible, standing up and speed walking down the hall.

“That went well,” you murmur, amused, and Jeno nods with his eyes crinkled in delight. “I didn’t even flirt yet.”

Haechan comes into the room from around the corner in the hallway, immersed in something on his phone. “Someone dare me to eat that whole can of spray cheese in the fridge.”

“I dare you,” you snicker. Haechan’s head snaps up to look at you in bewilderment, eyes comically wide as he lets out an amusingly high-pitched screech.

“You—when did you—who invited—I mean, not that you can’t come over, but—Jeno didn’t say—” Haechan splutters as you watch him with raised eyebrows before stopping short and standing up straighter. “I wasn’t really gonna eat all the spray cheese, by the way,” Haechan laughs awkwardly.

“Shame,” you muse, looking at him with a wry smile. “Would’ve been really hot, I think.”

Haechan pauses, regarding you skeptically. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” you hum with a nod. “It’d be like chugging a beer, but harder, y’know? Pretty impressive.”

“I mean, I can still do it—” Haechan says quickly, pointing at the kitchen as he walks towards it, and Jeno snorts from beside you.

“Haechan?” you call.

“Yeah?”

“I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” you say, nodding as you walk up to him. You pat his chest gently and smile at him. “I’m not really into kissing dudes who taste like spray cheese.”

“Oh, that’s fair—wait a minute.” Haechan freezes, looking at you with raised eyebrows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.” You look right back at him with a playfully challenging expression, and the awkwardness fades away from him almost immediately as his lips curl into a smirk.

“So you think about kissing me?”

“Maybe.” Smiling secretively, you watch as his gaze drifts down to your lips. You give him a moment to recover and look back up at you but his gaze doesn’t waver, so you clear your throat pointedly. “Are you done thinking about kissing me?”

“No, gimme another minute.” Haechan breathes out, and you laugh, pushing him back gently.

“I came here to study, not flirt,” you say, lying through your teeth. He grins, wiggling his brows as he walks backwards towards the kitchen.

“You can multitask.”

“Haechan, go eat your spray cheese or something.” You roll your eyes in amusement and turn back to Jeno, reaching out for your bag. He hands it to you and footsteps sound out from down the hall, making you both turn your heads towards the noise.

Mark comes back into the living room wearing a different outfit entirely and with his hair looking considerably better, as if he’d frantically fixed it before returning.

You and Jeno share an amused look as secretly as possible as Mark sits back down in his spot on the couch, resuming his work on his laptop as if nothing’s changed. You walk over to where he sits and point at the spot next to him.

“Can I sit here?”

“Uh—yeah, sure,” Mark mumbles in mild surprise, scooting over and pushing his stuff over on the coffee table to make room for you.

“Thank you, Mark,” you say with a sweet smile, and he nods, eyeing you as you sit right next to him. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows nervously, and you barely hide your amused chuckle.

Haechan comes out of the kitchen with a box of Pocky sticks, hesitating as he spots you sitting next to Mark. You pretend not to notice him or the way he narrows his eyes, instead focusing on pulling your laptop out of your bag.

You keep pretending to be immersed in turning on your laptop as Mark looks up at Haechan, the two of them exchanging an unreadable look in your peripheral vision before Mark leans back on the couch, casually placing his arm behind you on the cushion as if resting on your shoulders.

You fight down the smirk that threatens to appear on your face as Haechan audibly huffs and walks over to you both, plopping down next to you unceremoniously.

“Hi,” Haechan says with a smile, and you finally turn to look at him as you lean back to rest against Mark’s arm.

“Hi,” you reply, matching his expression, and Jeno clears his throat awkwardly, apparently no longer wanting to watch you three in silence.

“I’m gonna go grab my stuff and wake up Jaemin.” Jeno informs you three, and you all give some sort of acknowledgement as he heads out of the room. As he walks away, he shoots you a knowing look and grins before disappearing down the hall for what you know to be quite a while—enough time to mess with Haechan and Mark.

“It’s hot in here,” you complain, and Mark looks at you sympathetically.

“Yeah, our heating is stuck in the on setting,” Mark mumbles, and you frown, nodding in understanding.

You already knew that. Jeno told you before you came over, which is why you have something up your sleeve.

“Can one of you help me for a second? Actually both of you.” You sit forward slightly and both of them mirror you, looking at each other briefly before back at you. “I wanna take my hoodie off.” You cross your arms to grab the bottom of it, starting to pull it up and over your head. “Hold my shirt down so I don’t flash you.”

“I mean, I’m not opposed—”

“Haechan, just do it,” you huff, and he sighs dramatically before he and Mark hold the bottom of your undershirt down and you pull your hoodie off, revealing your casual tank top underneath. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” Mark mumbles, struggling to hide the way his eyes are drinking in the sight of your now exposed skin. Haechan, however, experiences not even a modicum of shame as he eyes you. You smile before yawning and stretching your arms over your head, letting out a small moan of relief that makes both of them stiffen and peek at you out of the corner of their eye.

You may have felt a little ridiculous when you hammed up the moan, but the response is so rewarding that you no longer regret it.

“You, uh, want some?” Haechan mumbles awkwardly, practically shoving the box of Pocky in your face.

“Sure,” you reply easily, and some of the confidence returns to his demeanor as he takes one out and puts the end between his lips. “You’re kidding.”

He shakes his head, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

You roll your eyes in amusement, not bothering to hide your smile as you lean closer and pinch the chocolate-covered end of the stick, breaking it off and biting it with a teasing grin.

Mark chuckles in amusement as Haechan glares at you petulantly, sitting back against the couch in a huff.

“Aw, don’t be upset, Haechan.” You cup his chin and mirror his frown. “Even though you’re cute when you pout.”

“I am?” he asks with a small amused smile, and you nod.

“You are.”

Mark clears his throat pointedly from beside you, carrying on with working on something on his laptop, and you shift your attention to him as he continues to attempt to conceal his jealousy.

“Mark, you’re cute, too,” you assure him with a small laugh.

He looks over at you, feigning nonchalance, and chuckles dismissively.

“I’m not cute, dude.”

“You’re right,” you muse, leaning against him for a moment as you think. “How about ‘handsome?’”

“Handsome, uh—handsome works,” Mark agrees, a small smile on his lips.

“Okay, handsome.”

“What about me?” Haechan complains, waving his arms in what looks suspiciously like the beginnings of a temper tantrum.

“She already called you cute,” Mark mumbles under his breath.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get called ‘handsome.’” Haechan bites back.

“You’re acting like a spoiled child.”

“That’s rich coming from Mr. ‘I’m Going to Clear My Throat for Attention.’”

“That’s a stupid comeback and you know it.”

“Guys.” You look between them with growing amusement.

“What’s stupid is the fact that you won’t ask for the attention you clearly want.”

“Haechan!” You look at him in surprise.

“I’d rather that than whine and stomp my feet like an immature brat.” Mark counters, and your eyes widen even more.

“Mark!”

“I will piss in your bed.” Haechan threatens, and you decide the fighting has gone on for long enough.

“You know what? I’m going home,” you sigh, and both their heads snap to look at you.

“Why?” Haechan asks, clearly objecting.

“You just got here!” Mark exclaims.

You gesture between the two of them. “Your fighting is making me uncomfortable.” You frown.

“We’ll stop,” Mark assures you, and Haechan nods in agreement.

You look at both of them skeptically before sighing. “Fine.”

You three fall into silence as Mark works, you pretend to work, and Haechan just stares at his phone while munching idly on Pocky sticks.

You decide to break the silence and mess with them a little bit.

“You know, I have a confession,” you say, not looking at either of them. “It was actually kind of hot to have two guys fighting over me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan muses, locking his phone and leaning forward slightly to see you better. Wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, he watches you with a considerably more intense gaze than earlier.

Mark eyes you curiously before he slowly closes his laptop and turns fully to look at you.

“Mhm,” you murmur, leaning back against the couch cushions and looking between the both of them. “Before you two started going for each other’s jugulars, I mean,” you explain. “I kinda like it when you two pay attention to me at the same time.” You shrug and Mark chuckles.

“Careful, or we’ll think you’re suggesting a threesome or something.” Mark warns you. You raise your eyebrows.

“And if I said I am?” Your question makes him and Haechan freeze, the two of them looking at each other before looking back at you.

“I’d say to be careful before you bite off more than you can chew.” Haechan says slowly, his gaze shifting into something more suggestive, more intriguing.

“I can handle myself.” You smile innocently, and Haechan snickers.

“You can handle both of us?” Mark asks, eyebrows raised skeptically as he regards you. There’s an unusual amount of confidence in his voice, but you can’t honestly say that you dislike it.

“I can multitask.” You echo Haechan’s words from earlier, and Haechan chuckles, resting his hand on your knee.

“I think this is more than you’re expecting,” he says, eyes scanning your face carefully—for what, you don’t know. Seemingly finding what he’s looking for, he slips his hand up higher on your leg, fingers running along one of the rips in your jeans.

“Way more,” Mark agrees, and there goes that damn cocky undertone again, riling you up even more than you already are.

“It’s a shame you guys are doing that No Nut November thing,” you sigh, looking at both of them in turn.

There’s a tense silence for a moment, and Mark and Haechan appear to be having a wordless exchange.

“Why is that?” Haechan asks, his voice lower and, to your surprise, far more serious than you’d expect.

“Haechan, why do you think?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Dude, you are such a tease,” Mark laughs in surprise, and you roll your eyes.

“Mark, if I very seriously asked you to fuck me right now, do you think you’d be able to stop calling me ‘dude?’�� you ask, looking Mark dead in the eyes.

“Oh, shit,” Mark mumbles, eyes wide as he looks away, back to behaving more like the less forward Mark you’re used to. You bite back a laugh and look from him to Haechan, who’s staring at fingers as they play with the strings in the stylistic rips in your jeans.

“Are you done staring at the little bit of skin you can see through the holes in my jeans?” you ask with a teasing lilt, and Haechan manages to tear his gaze away from said skin and look you in the eyes.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “It makes me feel like a Victorian man seeing a goddamn ankle,” Haechan mutters under his breath, and you snicker, leaning in closer.

“If you want, I’ll let you see more than just an ankle.” you hum, and Haechan blinks at you with wide eyes.

“Where is all of this coming from?” He’s quick to ask, baffled, and you shrug nonchalantly.

“I’m feeling…needy,” you sigh, tipping your head back onto the couch with a huff, and Mark splutters in surprise.

“Needy how?” He looks up at Haechan for a moment before cautiously draping his arm around you like he had earlier, leaning into the couch so your sides are pressed against each other. Haechan mirrors his position but uses one hand to trail up and down your thigh, his eyes on you as they wait for you to say more.

“Needy like…I need to be touched.” you say, frowning, and Mark inhales sharply, studying your face.

“How do you want us to touch you?” Mark asks, but, once again, his tone is entirely different. Instead of hesitant and cautious, Mark sounds teasing and confident once more, and the shift is entirely welcome and incredibly exciting.

“I want you to do whatever you want,” you reply sincerely, and Mark’s lips quirk up into a budding grin as he looks past you to Haechan, who’s already looking at him with his brows raised. They exchange several looks in silence and you lose your patience and huff loudly, regaining their attention once more. “Stop talking secretly!” you complain, and Haechan snickers fondly, tucking a finger under your chin and turning you to look at him.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs, smiling at you. “We were just figuring out what we’re gonna do to you.” His words ignite a fire in you, arousal stirring in the pit of your stomach as Mark’s hand comes to rest on your upper thigh. You sneak a peek at both of their laps, noting with satisfaction that there’s definitely something straining against the front of their pants.

They’re so easy to rile up that it’s almost laughable, really, but you suppress your amusement, saving it for later.

“Did you figure it out yet? I’m not a patient girl, you know.” you say as you place a hand on their laps, dangerously close to the bulges in their pants.

Mark closes his eyes and exhales slowly, while Haechan pushes his hips up, urging your hand to slip down towards his clothed erection. You oblige and rest your hand on top of where he wants you, feeling the side of his length pressing against his sweats.

“We’re gonna—” Mark starts, but Jaemin shuffles into the room and effectively silences Mark. Jeno appears behind Jaemin, shooting you an apologetic glance before following him into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Jaemin,” you greet, amused as he emerges from the kitchen with a bag of chips, sleepy eyes regarding you before he smiles and lifts the bag of chips in lieu of a wave as he approaches the couch.

You remove your hands from Haechan and Mark (even though he seems not to notice your hand placement) and smile up at Jaemin innocently as Mark and Haechan surreptitiously conceal their laps. Jaemin extends his hand holding the chips to you in a silent offering, and you beam at him and reach into the bag, pulling out a couple of chips.

“Was I interrupting something?” Jaemin asks in a drowsy voice, looking between you suspiciously, Mark, and Haechan, the latter two sitting stiffly with their laps covered.

“Well—” Haechan starts, but you stuff a chip in his mouth to shut him up.

“Nope.” You shake your head and smile innocently. Jaemin smiles lazily and plops down on the couch next to Haechan with a sigh of relief. You and Jeno exchange subtle looks before you pat Mark’s and Haechan’s thighs twice and stand up. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

As you pass by Jeno and head towards the bathroom, you hear Jeno say something about forgetting his stuff in his room and then the sound of footsteps trails after you.

“I’m sorry,” Jeno loudly whispers to you, and you stop in the middle of the hallway, turning to face him.

“What even happened?” you question, mildly amused at the unfortunate timing of the situation.

“Jaemin got hungry and was all like, ‘I don’t care about the bet right now, I want chips,’” Jeno explains with a roll of his eyes.

“I can’t blame him. These chips are good,” you mumble as you put the rest of the chips in your hand in your mouth.

“Did he come in way too early?” Jeno asks worriedly, and you frown pensively as you think back.

“Yeah,” you admit, Jeno sighing sadly. “Mark was just about to tell me what they were gonna do to me.”

“Damn,” he mumbles. “Well, I noticed they got hard! So job well done.” He claps your shoulder and you flinch. “Sorry; too hard?”

“Too hard.” You rub your shoulder with a wince. “Hey, Jeno?”

“Hm?”

“Can I borrow your laptop charger? I forgot mine at home.”

“Sure,” he agrees readily. “Hey, maybe you can ask one of them for help plugging it in,” he suggests with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You look at him with a blank expression. “Jeno?”

“Yeah?”

“The charger.”

“…Right.”

Thursday, November 12th.

you: maaaark are you alive

mark: i’m alive haha i’m in class

mark: what’s up?

you: i miss you :(

mark: really?

mark: cute

you: when does your class end?

mark: 2:15

mark: wanna hang out after?

you: y e s i’ll meet you at the shuttle?

mark: you got it

mark: see you in a bit

“Mark,” you sigh dramatically, leaning against him in the shuttle bus’s seat. “Wanna smoke when we get back to your place?” You wiggle your eyebrows encouragingly.

Mark snickers, nudging you away from him with his shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m running out of weed, so I might have to match you next time,” he answers and you wave him off.

“I got it,” you assure him.

“Oh, dope—then sure,” he agrees with a little nod and you smile widely at him before resting your head on his shoulder. He stiffens slightly and you bite back a laugh, craning your head to look up at him.

“Mark, you’re blushing.” you point out, gently touching his reddened cheek, and he shifts in his seat, pushing your cheek with two fingers so you’re looking away from him.

“Shut up,” he mumbles with a nervous laugh, and you decide to have mercy and oblige, pulling out your phone and opening TikTok to scroll aimlessly until you reach your stop.

As you settle in by Mark’s windowsill and pull out your bowl and weed from your bag, Mark chuckles in mild surprise.

“Do you always carry your bowl around during the day?” he asks as he moves to sit across from you in the windowsill.

You nod. “Gotta stay prepared.”

Mark watches as you meticulously pack the bowl with weed and scoot closer to him, offering him the first hit.

“Nah.” Mark shakes his head and gestures to you. “Ladies first.”

“Such a gentleman, Mark,” you hum before lighting the bowl and taking a long hit. The smoke constricts your throat, threatening a cough, but you only let out a small huff, smoke coming from out of your nostrils as you scrunch your eyes closed. “God, that first hit never gets easier.”

“Tell me about it,” Mark chuckles as he takes the bowl and lighter from you. He takes a tentative hit, his face screwing up as he struggles not to cough. “Fuck, dude.”

“I know,” you murmur soothingly as he gives into the urge and coughs, smoke billowing around both of you as he empties his lungs of the smoke and fills them with fresh air instead. “Want some water?” You reach in your bag, handing him your Camelbak bottle which he takes readily, bringing it to his lips and sucking through the straw. His tiny coughs taper off gradually as he takes intermittent sips and he finally seems to recover, throwing his arm over his eyes as he groans loudly. “What’s wrong?”

“That was so lame of me, dude,” he half-chuckles, half-groans, and you tsk disapprovingly, moving his arm from over his face.

“I’m not gonna judge you for coughing when you smoke, Mark,” you say sincerely, and his face relaxes slightly as he looks at you with bright, hopeful eyes. “I cough all the time!”

“Yeah, but I just feel like it’s not cool for me to be having whole coughing fits, y’know?” Mark mumbles shyly, and you pat his knee comfortingly, squeezing it to get his attention.

“Mark, I think you’re very cool,” you assure him.

He shoots you a funny look. “Really?”

��Well—no, not really.” you admit, and Mark frowns, opening his mouth to complain, but you shush him before continuing, “But I never thought any of you guys were ‘cool,’ to be fair.”

“I guess I’ll take that,” he sighs with a small chuckle.

“Wanna try something that might help it go down easier?” you suggest with a raise of your eyebrows.

Mark looks at you skeptically. “Sure,” he agrees tentatively.

You take the bowl and lighter back from him, take as big of a hit as you can manage, and lean in close to Mark, slowly exhaling the smoke into his mouth. Mark’s eyes flutter shut gradually and his hand moves to your waist, clutching you to keep you in place. When you finally pull back from him, he leans after you, his grip on your shirt tightening, and you fight back a smile, clearing your throat softly.

“Whoa.” Mark mumbles, and you nod, already feeling a bit calmer and fuzzier than earlier. “Hey, does that actually work?” Mark wonders, eyes glazed over, and you shrug.

“I don’t really know.” you admit, “I just know it’s fun.”

“It definitely is.” He nods in agreement, and you smile. “Can we, uh…” he starts, trailing off and avoiding eye contact.

“You wanna do it again?” you ask, and he gives a small nod with a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. You take another hit of the bowl and scoot closer to Mark who, to your surprise, gently urges you onto his lap. When you lean in to blow the smoke into his mouth, he tilts his head to the side slightly, groaning quietly as you shift forward on his lap and your hands come to rest on his shoulders.

This time, when the smoke runs out, you don’t move right away, noticing as his hands move to pull you closer, one hand pressed to the small of your back and the other resting between your shoulder blades, pulling you so close that you’re chest to chest. Testing the waters a bit, you lean forward just a bit more and graze your bottom lip against his.

Mark’s hand on your upper back moves to the back of your neck and pulls you in immediately, Mark connecting your lips with a groan of pleasure and, if you’re not mistaken, relief. He kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to do it again, with desperate nips of your bottom lip and eager movements of his tongue, which trails along your bottom lip with an air of impatience, prodding at the seam of your lips until you part them for him with a small content sigh.

Mark’s hand on the small of your back slips down just a bit lower, resting just above your ass, and you lift your body up ever so slightly, urging his hand to drop lower so it’s directly where you both know he wants it to be. He grunts into your mouth, his hand squeezing your ass firmly as you sit back down on his lap.

It’s when you suck gently on his tongue that his senses seem to return to him, Mark’s kissing growing more hesitant and nervous until he’s finally pulling away with a worried look on his face. If he hears the small whine of disappointment you let out, he doesn’t comment on it, instead opening and closing his mouth with no words coming out.

“I am so sorry—” he finally gets out, and you can’t help but roll your eyes and chuckle fondly.

“Mark.” you say pointedly, and he stops spluttering incoherently long enough to look at your amused expression. “What about that kiss made you think I didn’t like it?”

He shifts his gaze away from you and you make a sound of disapproval, prompting him to return his gaze to yours. You drape your arms over his shoulders, locking your fingers behind his neck, and look him directly in the eyes.

“I thought I was coming on too strong,” Mark explains, and you roll your eyes—this time, for him to see—and rock your hips forward on his lap ever so slightly. He groans in surprise and grabs your hips with both hands, eyes widened slightly.

“I wish you’d come on stronger,” you say with a small wry smile, and he blinks at you in shock.

“For real?”

“For real.” You nod in confirmation, and he scans your face, gaze lingering on your lips.

He wets his lips which, to your satisfaction, are still glistening from the previous kiss, and leans forward, tentatively connecting your lips again. You sigh in mild frustration, wanting more of the rougher Mark from earlier, and curl your fingers in the hair on the nape of his neck, tugging. A groan filled with need sounds out from his chest and he pushes forward more forcefully, kissing you with more passion and less hesitancy.

“Good, Mark,” you breathe encouragingly when you part to breathe, resting your forehead against his. “Just like that.”

He doesn’t even let you finish catching your breath as he captures your lips, the combination of his passionate and needy kissing and the weed in your system working to create a dizzying high feeling in your head.

Mark pulls back slightly and you whine, chasing after his lips. The chuckle he lets out is so deliciously cocky—smug, even—that you find yourself stunned by the version of Mark sitting under you right now.

“Want more?” he murmurs in a teasing lilt, and you nod, clutching the front of his shirt with one hand and pulling him closer to you. His hands slide up and down from your hips to your waist in soothing motions, directly contrasting the almost ruthless way he kisses your lips.

You don’t know how long you two sit there kissing, but you do know that when you break the kiss to breathe, it feels like you’ve been underwater with how desperately you suck in air.

“You’re good at that,” you say with a smile, and Mark chuckles, his hands never ceasing their motions on your sides.

“Thanks. You are, too,” he replies with a small crooked grin. A brief silence falls between you two as you sit back slightly, resting your back against the side of the windowsill until a stirring feeling in your stomach draws your attention.

“Hey, Mark?” you break the silence.

“Hm?”

“Do you have any snacks?”

“Snacks?” To say Mark seems confused by the shift in topic is an understatement.

“I just got really hungry.” You frown slightly, and he chuckles.

“Did the munchies hit you that fast?” Mark asks with an amused smile, and you shrug.

“I don’t know, but I want something to nibble.”

“Well, you’re in luck, because I want something, too,” he announces, sitting up slightly. You shift off his lap, quickly taking the last hit of the bowl and putting the smoking embers out, and take his hand when he offers it to you, following after him to the kitchen.

“Do you guys have fruit snacks still?” you ask, rooting through the cabinets.

“Yeah, we just bought some the other day,” Mark answers as he comes up behind you, reaching past a container of protein powder and box of cake batter to retrieve the box you’re looking for.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the box from his hand and pulling out a pack of fruit snacks. Ripping open the small package, you pop two fruit snacks in your mouth, chewing happily.

“You and your sweet tooth,” Mark chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs a bag of chips and starts eating them.

“I do not have a sweet tooth,” you reply defensively, and he raises his eyebrows.

“We have to keep our house stocked with gummies and sweet snacks otherwise you won’t come over, and you think you don’t have a sweet tooth?” Mark asks with a skeptical raise of his eyebrows, and you frown.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying!”

“Shut up! Changing the topic. Why do y’all have cake batter if you don’t even bake?”

“Jaemin says he’ll get around to it one day.”

“Sure he will.” you scoff in amusement, popping another fruit snack in your mouth.

“He will if he makes it a weed cake.”

“Now that I believe.”

“Same,” Mark laughs, propping himself up on the counter across from you.

You pat the spot next to you. “No, come sit here.” Mark grins and complies, hopping up and sitting himself on the counter beside you. “Want a fruit snack?”

“Sure,” Mark replies with a shrug. You reach in the bag and pull out a strawberry one, frowning before putting it back. “I like the strawberry ones!”

“Yeah, me too,” you say. “That’s why you’re not getting one.”

“Evil,” Mark laughs, and you pull out an orange one and offer it to him. “You’re lucky I like the orange ones.”

“They taste funny to me,” you shake your head in disgust just thinking about it, and Mark snickers, reaching a hand out for the fruit snack. “No, open.” You place the fruit snack just in front of his lips.

“Are you serious?” Mark raises his eyebrows skeptically, and you nod. “Alright,” he mumbles, opening his mouth and letting you feed it to him.

“Cute,” you chuckle, popping another fruit snack in your mouth. When you pull out an orange one again, you feed it to Mark, who accepts it with no qualms.

“I don’t know if I’m just high, but you know what I wish I could have right now?” Mark pipes up, and you turn your head to look at him. “A Krabby Patty.”

“No, because why do they always look so good?” You turn your whole body towards Mark, whose eyes light up.

“Right?! Dude, Spongebob was such a good show.” Mark sighs, and you give him a funny look.

“Was? It’s still on the air,” you point out, and he gives you a baffled look. “I mean, the original creator left the show, so it’s not as funny, but it’s still pretty amusing.”

“Dude, I had no idea.” Mark’s eyes are wide with surprise before his expression shifts to hopeful. “Yo, do you think we could—”

“Yes, we can watch Spongebob.” you answer with a laugh, and Mark grins at you. “I’m pretty sure it’s marathoning on Nickelodeon in a couple minutes from now.”

“Oh, dope,” Mark mutters excitedly, hopping off the counter, grabbing the bag of chips, and heading to the living room.

You follow after him with a small mischievous smile, a scheme to mess with him already brewing in your mind.

“Wait. You wanna sit here?” Mark asks, baffled, and you smile, nodding innocently.

“Yep,” you say, popping your lips on the “p.” “Can I?”

“Sure, I guess.” Mark mumbles, and you place yourself on his lap sideways so your legs drape over his thighs. “Oh.”

“Good?” you ask, and he nods, staring down at your legs with wide eyes.

“Great.” He sounds a bit breathless, and you manage to withhold your laugh.

“Then pay attention,” you hum, jerking your chin towards the television. He nods jerkily and complies, pressing the mute button on the remote to unmute the volume and letting his hand fall back to his side.

You wait for the perfect time to strike, biding your time by watching the television as Spongebob plays, and the opportunity finally presents itself.

The first episode ends and the commercials start to roll before the next episode, making Mark look at you.

“You wanna watch the next one?” he asks, visibly hopeful.

“Yeah,” you hum, studying his lips. “Lemme get more comfortable, though.”

“Yeah, sure—oh,” Mark grunts when you shift on his lap, the underside of your thigh rubbing against the front of his sweats.

“You say ‘oh’ a lot.”

“You do things that make me say ‘oh’ a lot.” Mark replies, and you smile, pleased that he’s taken the bait.

“Oh, yeah?” you muse, resting your head on his shoulder and tracing over the silver chain around his neck. He shivers under your gentle touch, and your smile widens. “What do I do?”

“You, uh—” Mark cuts himself off, gesturing at your position. “You sit on me.”

“I sit on Lia sometimes and she doesn’t say ‘oh.’” you point out.

“That’s different, and you know it.”

“Whatever. You only explained one of your ‘oh’ moments today. What about the other one?” you press, and you watch Mark balk.

“You…moved on my lap.”

“I can’t move now?” You raise an eyebrow. He’s walking right into your trap.

“You moved a certain way,” Mark tries desperately to explain without actually explaining, but you’re on a mission.

“What way was that?” you ask in a soft voice. Mark doesn’t answer, instead swallowing thickly, so you tug gently at the silver earring in his lobe, smiling with satisfaction when the beginnings of a moan eke out from his lips before he covers it up by clearing his throat. “You know what? I’ll help you out if you can’t find the words.” you offer, watching Mark carefully as he nods immediately.

“Please.”

“Was I moving like this?” You shift yourself on his lap again, the underside of your thigh now pressing against the front of his pants. Mark opens his mouth to speak, but you’re not done. “Or was it more like this?” You move back slightly to distribute your weight more evenly on his lap, trying to hide your smile when you feel his length starting to stir.

“Please stop moving,” he says through clenched teeth, his eyes closed, and you let out a small ‘hmph’ of dissatisfaction.

“Why?” You look directly at him, waiting for him to meet your gaze. He does after a moment of tense silence, eyes flitting between your eyes and your lips. “Hm?” you hum softly, encouraging him to speak.

“Because it’s, um—it’s kind of—” Mark mumbles, looking strained.

“Oh,” you say slowly in surprise, deciding to spare him from saying the actual words. “Is it turning you on, Mark?”

“Yes,” he grumbles reluctantly, and you smile widely, leaning closer to murmur directly into his ear.

“Good.”

He whips his head around to face you so abruptly that you don’t have time to move back, his lips brushing against the corner of your mouth accidentally.

“Shit—sorry,” Mark stammers, eyes wide and nervous as if you two hadn’t just made out in his room less than an hour ago.

“It’s okay, Mark,” you laugh, waving his apology off dismissively. “I kinda liked it.”

“…Kinda?”

“By ‘kinda liked,’ I mean ‘really liked,’” you correct yourself, and he blinks at you as he visibly buffers.

He looks down at his lap for a moment, brows furrowing in thought, before he speaks next.

“Enough for me to do it again?” His voice is lower, almost hushed, and the question hangs in the infinitesimal space between you two. “Like, properly this time?”

You don’t answer him verbally yet, instead placing a finger under his chin and turning his head so he’s facing you. You stare pointedly at his lips, the bottom of which he starts to nibble nervously.

“On one condition.”

“What?”

“You do it like earlier. Don’t do it like you’re scared of me,” you murmur lightheartedly, and Mark gives a small chuckle, nodding in agreement.

“Deal.” And his lips are on yours in an instant. It takes him absolutely no time to reposition you, maneuvering you so you’re straddling his lap with your knees on the couch on either side of him. One hand falls to your hip and the other slides behind you to grip your ass firmly. He kisses you like he’s got something to prove—purposeful and skilled movements of his lips and deliberate, dizzying flicks of his tongue have you almost forgetting your objective, your mind slowly melting into putty.

He sucks on your bottom lip just as you rock your hips forward onto him, and he breaks the kiss to look down at your laps and back up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, wetting his lips before speaking.

“Do that again.”

“Yeah?” you ask, a bit breathless. Mark’s kissing skills manage to take you by surprise a second time, to say the least. “This?” You muster enough sense to tease him once more, grinding against his lap and whining with pleasure when your core drags against his gradually hardening length.

“Fuck, yes,” Mark groans, leaning in to kiss you again. He adjusts his grip on you, moving both hands to hold your hips, and he guides you in your fluid, rhythmic movements against his lap.

It’s not long before he feels fully hard under your ministrations, the size of his length also something that takes you by surprise, and he shudders with pleasure, his lips moving down to kiss and suck at your neck as you grind against him.

You almost feel bad for what you’re about to do.

Almost.

You tip your head back, allowing him more access to your neck, and press your hips down against him just a bit harder, urging both of you towards a climax.

“Mark,” you whimper, moving one hand from his shoulder to slip between you two and massage your clit through the thin fabric of your leggings and underwear. “Feels so good—”

Mark looks down at your hand moving against your core and hisses in surprise, evidently pleased by the sight. “God, I think I’m gonna—”

“Me too,” you pant, moving your fingers faster and harder as you dip your head lower to kiss Mark’s neck and suck pretty love bites into the skin. “Oh—oh, my God—” The pleasure builds and builds until it’s almost unbearable and the coil wound up tight in your stomach finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you, the intensity ebbing and flowing with every now erratic movement of your hips.

Mark’s fingers dig into your hips so hard you suspect you’ll feel sore there later, and you keen lowly against his pulse point, collecting yourself for the next step of your plan.

“Wait—” You stop rocking your hips abruptly, and Mark’s head snaps up to look at you in a mix of alarm and confusion. “Aren’t you doing No Nut November?”

“I—well—yeah,” he stumbles through the sentence as his hips roll up, lifting you up slightly.

“Then we should stop, right?” You raise an eyebrow, and the strained look on his face is almost enough to make you take pity on him and stop teasing him.

“I mean—” he says slowly, and you smile, slowly continuing your movements.

“What if you just forget about the bet for a bit, yeah?” you coax breathlessly, and he groans weakly.

“I can’t,” he grunts, a tortured frown on his face.

“Why not?” you coo, moving to speak against his ear. “I won’t tell.” You bring his hand up to cup your breast, Mark’s eyes bulging before he kneads it slowly.

“I could, but—” he mumbles, and you grind down harder in encouragement. “No, I’d—shit—I’d feel so guilty.”

“Oh, Mark,” you sigh sympathetically, “you’re too good. Don’t you wanna try and be just a little bad for once?”

“Yes,” he stresses the word desperately, looking up at you with a conflicted expression. “So fucking bad,” he grunts, his hips lifting up again. “But—”

“But you can’t,” you finish for him with a pitying sigh. “I get it. Guess that means I should stop, then, huh?”

“I guess so,” he mumbles, visibly flustered and sounding slightly disappointed. You nod, pat his shoulder amicably, and climb off his lap, standing up and stretching your limbs, the after-buzz of your climax creating a bit of a fuzzy headspace you wouldn’t mind staying in for a while. “Wh–where are you going?” Mark asks when you grab your bag from the other end of the couch, and you turn to him with an apologetic frown.

“I totally forgot I have an essay due this weekend,” you say sadly, the lie rolling off your tongue with ease. Truthfully, you do have an essay due this weekend; it’s just already done and you didn’t forget. “I gotta go crank it out.”

“Oh…yeah, okay,” Mark agrees after a pause, clearly dazed but nodding in understanding. “Good luck with it.”

“Thanks, Mark!” you say cheerfully before turning on your heel and making your way out of his apartment. When you shut the door behind you, you lean against the wall and exhale slowly, overwhelmed. You definitely didn’t anticipate that going as far as it did, but you can’t say you’re complaining at all.

All you know is Mark has one hell of an erection to make disappear, and you wish you could be a fly on the wall to witness it.

Monday, November 16th.

“Hey, how’s Mission No Nut November going?” Lia asks as she, you, and Yeji take the elevator up to the guys’ apartment.

“Oh, great. I got them both last week—even though Jaemin interrupted—and I got Mark good on Thursday.” you answer proudly, and Yeji snickers.

“I heard about Thursday, from Jeno,” she pipes up. “He said when he came home, Mark was watching a bunch of pimple popping videos to make his boner go down.”

“That’s rich,” Lia snorts. “Speaking of Mark, I’m pretty sure he told me he wasn’t gonna be at the smoke session today; I think he has a project due this weekend.”

“Yeah, he told me, too. Pretty sure he’s camped up in the library as we speak,” you sigh, shaking your head solemnly.

“Well, now you get some one-on-one time with Haechan,” Yeji points out, and you smile, feeling mischievous. The elevator dings and the doors open, the three of you heading down the hall to their apartment.

“Very true. For your sake, y’all should avert your eyes.”

“Oh, dear God.” Yeji mumbles.

“It’s so worth it,” Lia assures her, knocking on the door. Barely any time passes before it opens, Jaemin standing there with a suspiciously wide grin on his face.

“I see someone dipped into their secret stash before we got here,” you say with a laugh, and he just nods with the same dopey smile, the four of you standing in place. “Jaemin?”

“Hm?”

“Can we come in?”

“Sure,” he answers. He doesn’t move.

“Um…Jaemin?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you let us in?”

“Sure,” he replies. He still doesn’t move.

Lia sighs.

“Jaemin.”

“Hm?”

“Let us in. Move. Open sesame.” you say, waving your hand in front of his face. He blinks twice before making an “o” shape with his mouth.

“Sure, yeah, my bad.” he moves to the side, letting you three trail in and get comfortable, putting your coats away and removing your shoes.

You see Jeno setting up the bong on the coffee table while Haechan sits on the couch, scrolling through his phone. Haechan looks up casually, locking eyes with you before his own widen almost imperceptibly and he sits up straighter, stretching his legs out and spreading them wider.

“Hey,” he says offhandedly, grinning as casually as can be considering he just readjusted his whole demeanor to impress you.

“Hi,” you coo, heading over to where he sits. You bend over, placing both hands on his knees, and lean forward to murmur in his ear, “I wanna sit next to you. Save me this spot?” You tap the arm of the couch, and he falters slightly, shooting you a surprised and confused look, but obliges, scooting over so there’s space between him and the arm of the couch.

“All for you,” he assures you, and you smile, looking over to where Lia stands, mumbling to herself in annoyance as she roots through her bag for something. She pulls out a small makeup bag and opens it, retrieving a pre-rolled joint and waving it triumphantly.

“Got it!” she chirps, moving to the couch and sitting down next to Haechan on the side he doesn’t have saved for you. “Lighter?” she asks the rest of you, and Jaemin shrugs.

“I’m guessing you took an edible, then?” Yeji asks Jaemin, and he nods, that same smile coming back to his lips.

“That I did,” he giggles, making you roll your eyes in amusement as you sit between Haechan and the end of the couch. Haechan eyes your skirt and your dark stockings intently, pinching the thin fabric with a lighthearted scoff.

“Can I help you?” you ask nonchalantly, placing your hand on top of his hand.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks curiously, and you shake your head.

“Why? Are you worried about me, Haechan?” you coo fondly, and he turns his palm up so it’s touching yours, lacing your fingers together.

“What if I say yes?” His voice is a murmur as he turns his head to look at you.

“I’d say you’re cute.”

“Then yes.”

“You’re cute.” You smile, and he grins.

“You’re cute.”

You dismiss him with a small roll of your eyes, averting your gaze and locking gazes with Yeji, who wiggles her eyebrows suggestively as she looks pointedly at your and Haechan’s linked hands. You give a minuscule nod with a smile and return your attention to Haechan, who, you think, has witnessed your secret interaction, his eyes moving between Yeji and you.

“…Remind me again why you wanted to sit next to me,” Haechan asks you suspiciously, and you pout at him.

“Because you’re my favorite,” you coo, resting your head on his shoulder and batting your lashes at his wary look.

“Oh, yeah? Does Mark know that?” he chuckles, and you raise a brow.

“Do you want him to?” you counter.

Haechan shrugs. “Depends. I kinda like seeing him sulk sometimes.”

“Wow, you’re such a good friend.” you remark sarcastically.

“Now, now. Is that any way to talk to your favorite?” Haechan nudges you playfully and you snicker.

“Shut up.” you huff, jerking your chin in the direction of Lia, who’s taking a hit from the joint she brought. “It’s almost your turn.”

Haechan takes it from Lia’s outstretched fingers as she exhales a cloud of smoke, bringing it to his lips and taking a long drag. You can’t help but admire the way he looks while he smokes, his pink lips wrapped around the joint making you itch to feel them on your skin.

He blows out the smoke in several rings, looking over at you with a smug grin. You roll your eyes, but it’s too late—if his amused exhale is any indication, he already caught sight of your smile.

“Show off.”

“You love it,” he retorts, and you stick your tongue out at him in lieu of a verbal response.

“Whatever. Pass it,” you beckon for the joint, and Haechan’s grin widens as he leans closer to you. “Haechan,” you complain, and he chuckles.

“Ask me nicely.” His voice is low so as not to catch anyone’s attention besides yours, and his eyes drop from your gaze to your lips, his own parting subconsciously.

You lean in closer as well, still studying his face with curiosity, and bring your lips to the side of his face, deliberately brushing them against the shell of his ear to watch him get all jittery.

“Haechan,” you coo, and you can hear him swallow thickly.

“Yeah?” He sounds significantly less confident now, you note with satisfaction.

You pause to build the suspense. “Gimme it.” You pluck the joint from his unsuspecting hand, and he splutters in surprise as you pull away from him and bring it to your lips to take a pull.

“You’re evil,” he complains, and you smile widely.

“Sorry,” you reply unapologetically, exhaling the smoke with every word you speak. You take another drag of the joint and lean over Haechan, resting your hand on his thigh as you pass it over him and back to Lia.

“Wh—hey!” Haechan protests immediately, only for you to cup his chin in your hand and blow the smoke in between his parted lips. He shuts up immediately and allows you to shotgun him, his hand moving to hold the side of your neck and keep you in place.

Normally, you’d be a bit more concerned with people watching, but not everyone in the room can see you—Jaemin and Yeji are immersed in some conversation while Jeno rummages around in the kitchen—and the ones who can see you already know about the bet and your plan, Lia pointedly looking away as she calls to Jeno in the kitchen.

When the smoke runs out, you pull back before Haechan can close the distance between you two, grinning wickedly when he chases your lips with his eyes still closed. You shake his head in a “no” gesture, and he opens his eyes slowly, gaze locked on you with a dazed look on his face.

“There’s your hit,” you murmur, and he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. You raise your brows in surprise. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you speechless.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not playing fair,” he mumbles, looking put out.

“Sorry, Haechan,” you chuckle, squeezing his thigh under the guise of comforting him. He looks down at his thigh in surprise, then back at you with wary eyes.

“What are you up to?”

You don’t answer, instead smiling secretively and sliding your hand up just a bit higher.

“What are you up to?” he presses, and you shrug, moving your hand up just a bit higher until you brush against something warm and solid and smile in satisfaction. “Good God.”

“Haechan, take your phone out of your pocket,” you say with a mocking frown, and he glares at you.

“You know damn well that’s not my phone.” As if to prove his point, he picks his phone up from beside him, waving the device in your face.

“Oh? Then what is it?” you ask curiously, feigning cluelessness, and Haechan’s glare only intensifies. You widen your eyes in a dramatic show of realization and sit closer to him, sliding your hand up higher until there’s no mistaking your intentions. “Haechan.” You attempt to sound as scandalized as possible.

“I’m gonna throttle you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You smile sweetly, patting the growing bulge in his pants lightly. “Haechan,” you whisper, returning to your original line of questioning, “if it’s not your phone, then what is it?”

“You know what it is.” His voice is flat, if not a bit strained, and you can’t help but smile wider.

“Are you hard, Haechan?” You place your free hand over your chest and blink at him in shock. Haechan pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he bites back a humorless chuckle, and you wet your lips absentmindedly, your gaze falling to his mouth. “Why are you hard, Haechan?” you murmur, cocking your head to the side curiously. (As if you don’t know.)

“Hm, I don’t know. Surely it has nothing to do with the girl next to me right now rubbing up on me,” Haechan remarks drily. “You get on my nerves sometimes, you know that?” He’s clearly joking, the playful lilt in his voice unmistakable, but you eagerly take the opening to be difficult.

You frown, retracting your hand from his lap. Haechan looks from his now untouched lap to you in what you’re positive is poorly concealed disappointment. “What?”

“I get on your nerves?” You sniffle in faux hurt before you angle your body away from him, resting your elbow on the arm of the sofa and placing your chin in your hand forlornly.

“Aw, c’mere,” Haechan chuckles, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You huff and scoot closer to the edge of the couch, barely hiding your yelp of surprise when Haechan pulls you to him so hard that you practically land in his lap. You continue to look away from him, sighing dramatically, and he snickers, placing his chin on your shoulder and turning his face towards you so his nose is brushing against your cheek. “Did I hurt your feelings?”

“Let me go,” you say, your voice clipped, and he adjusts you so you’re sitting properly in his lap before he tilts his head up to press his lips to your cheek.

“Would it help if I told you just how cute I think you are?” His voice comes out as an almost incoherent mumble because of how his lips are squished against your cheek, but you hear him all the same, your face heating up as you fight back a smile.

“No.”

“You sure?” His hand moves a lock of your hair behind your ear before coming to rest on your thigh.

You pause, staring at his (very attractive) hand on your leg. “I’m sure.”

He shifts you in his lap so his lips are closer to your ear and murmurs, “Even if I tell you that you could never actually get on my nerves and that you’re the prettiest girl?”

“What, ever?” you scoff, amused, and he nods, his lips brushing your ear with the movement.

“Yes, ever.” To your surprise, he sounds sincere, and the notion of the compliment being genuine has your cheeks burning with heat. “I can see you trying not to smile, you know.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Okay.” You shift on his lap so you can sit directly on the growing erection in his pants, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Ha, ha.” you gloat.

“You shut up.” It’s his turn to gripe at you, and you shrug.

“No.” Before he can say anything else in response, you cover his mouth with your hand and lean over towards Lia to take the joint from her once more. You two share a secretive, knowing look before she angles her body so that she’s shielding you and your shenanigans from the rest of the group.

You keep your hand over Haechan’s mouth as you take your hit of the joint, before a warm, wet sensation on your palm has you yanking your hand off of his mouth like you’ve been burned. You stare down at the glistening wet stripe on your palm in bewilderment and look back up at him incredulously.

“Can I help you?” Haechan asks nonchalantly, having the audacity to smile innocently at you, and you narrow your eyes.

“Did you seriously just lick me?” you scoff in disbelief, and he shrugs.

“Maybe.”

“You are so weird.” you mumble as you pass Lia the joint, skipping Haechan once more.

“You’re gonna stop skipping me in the rotation, I know that much.” Haechan warns and you roll your eyes.

“That’s for saying I get on your nerves and for being weird.” you reply, turning your nose up.

“Oh, please. You’re sitting on my lap, so clearly you must like how weird I am, at least a little bit.” He grins teasingly, and you roll your eyes, adjusting yourself on his lap until he lets out a choked groan from the feeling of you moving against his concealed, almost entirely hard length. “Stop moving.”

“Your dick is making me uncomfortable,” you lie in a huff, squirming around a bit more before he grabs your hips to restrict your movements. “Get un-hard.”

“I can’t just get un-hard,” Haechan bites back.

“You didn’t even try!”

“That’s not how dicks work!” Haechan whisper-snaps at you, and you narrow your eyes.

“Well, do something,” you complain, ending your little hushed whisper debate. “Or I will.”

Haechan regards you warily. “Do I want to know what that means?”

“Probably not.” You shrug. “But you’re gonna find out anyway.”

“Psst!” Lia whispers to get your attention, and you look over at her, feeling slightly sheepish. “Do either of you want to take a hit from the bong?”

“I’m good for right now,” you say, smiling as the hits from the joint you’ve already taken continue to take effect, while Haechan hums thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I’ll take a hit.” He reaches for the bong as Lia hands it over, gripping your waist with his free hand to keep you steady, and an idea comes to your mind of how you can mess with him even more.

He brings his mouth to the mouthpiece of the bong, taking his hit and you gently stroke his leg, smiling innocently when he side-eyes you suspiciously. You wait patiently until he finishes exhaling the smoke (you’re not a total monster) to rest your hand directly over his concealed length and squeeze it firmly, making him cough in surprise, Haechan spluttering comically as you bite back your laughter.

“Y’know what?” Haechan mutters, jaw set in determination as he stares you down. “Come on.” He moves you off of his lap, wraps his fingers around your wrist, and pulls you to your feet, walking away quickly with you in tow. When Jaemin curiously asks where you’re going, Haechan mutters something about the kitchen and snacks, not offering any further explanation.

You shoot Jaemin a thumbs-up over your shoulder, and he grins, nodding and returning the gesture just before Haechan leads you out of view. You two make it into the kitchen, passing a smiling Jeno with a bag of Cheetos and a plate of pizza rolls on his way out, and Haechan pushes you up against the counter, caging you in with his arms and staring directly at you.

“Haechan, why are we here?” you ask, looking back at him as calmly as possible given the steady increase of your heart rate as he eyes you with an unreadable expression.

“What,” Haechan steps closer to you, making you shrink back against the counter even more, “are you playing at?”

You blink at him impassively. “I don’t know what you mean,” you lie.

“You’re sitting next to me, calling me your favorite, feeling me up in front of our friends—”

“Haechan.” You interrupt him, an eyebrow raised skeptically. “You literally liked it. Stop complaining.”

“I don’t like being felt up in front of our friends, actually.” You can tell he’s trying to sound like he means it, but the way he suddenly avoids your gaze sheepishly tells you everything you need to know.

“You’re lying,” you say simply, and he huffs.

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am n—”

“Haechan, do you think I’m an idiot?” You stare at him, unimpressed. “You liked it. You pulled me onto your lap. You didn’t move my hand once.” He rolls his eyes, still not making eye contact, and you sigh in frustration, cupping his chin and turning his head so he’s looking at you. “You wanna know why I did all that?” you ask in a quiet but urgent voice, and he blinks a couple of times before nodding. “I was sitting next to you and you just look so good today—”

“Don’t say that,” he mutters, his brows furrowing together as he looks away from you again.

“You do,” you insist, pulling Haechan closer to you by the chin. “You look so hot in that hoodie, honestly.” You loop one of the strings of the light gray hoodie around your finger and tug it lightly as you continue speaking. “Honestly, it’s really on you that I did anything in the first place,” You say, shrugging, and he looks back at you incredulously.

“It’s on me?”

“Yep.” You smile at him and bring both hands to the hem of his hoodie, tugging him even closer to you. “You had the nerve to wear gray sweatpants—”

“They match my hoodie!”

“—like some kind of slut,” you continue, looking from your hands on the bottom of his hoodie up to his face, “and think no one was gonna notice your entire goddamn dick print in your pants?”

“Well, who’s looking that closely?!” Haechan splutters defensively, and you scoff.

“Everyone knows the shape of a dick, Haechan!” You whisper-yell incredulously. “Plus, it’s not like you’re exactly small, y’know.”

“So, it’s my fault that you tried to jump my bones? My crime is having a big dick and wanting to wear sweats in the middle of November?” Haechan asks in disbelief, and you nod simply, pulling him even closer until your legs brush against his.

“Yeah.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m not. Actually, what I am is turned on,” you correct, and Haechan stops short, looking at you carefully.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me.” You stare back at him challengingly. You can practically see the gears turning in his head, Haechan’s eyes briefly dropping to scan your whole body before returning upwards to look into your own, his gaze considerably more intense and glinting with mischief. “Can you stop staring at me like that and do something about it?”

“Oh?” Haechan’s smile turns wicked as he steps closer to you so you’re pressed up against each other with the countertop digging into your back. “Do what about it, hm?”

“I don’t know,” you lilt, dragging the last syllable out and batting your lashes at him coyly. With one hand, you release his hoodie and trail down his body the short distance from the hem of his hoodie to the string of his sweats. You slowly pull at the string until it’s untied, looking up at his face. He’s mesmerized, watching your hand as it dips into the band of his sweats and snaps the elastic against his skin, making him jolt. “Use your imagination.”

“You are so dangerous.” Haechan mumbles in a daze, but there’s an unmistakable desire in his voice that gives you all the confirmation you need to continue. He brings his hands to your hips, urging you up and onto the counter, immediately pushing himself between your legs and resting his hands on your thighs.

You place a hand between your legs protectively to conceal yourself, your skirt riding up your thighs as he massages them.

“Relax,” he chuckles, pinching your thin stockings and letting them lightly snap against your skin, “you’re covered.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” you mumble, averting your gaze, and he snickers, pinching your stockings again and tugging them. “Stop, they're fragile—you could rip them.”

“Oh, I know,” he murmurs teasingly, looking up from your thighs at your face. “I want to rip them.”

“Don’t you dare,” you warn him, and he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Stop me.” His eyes are trained on your lips and he’s got his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, painting a very alluring image that makes you wish you could get just a bit of friction between your legs, any pressure at all, to relieve yourself of some of the tension building up.

He leans forward, your lips brushing lightly against each other’s, and you’re not even sure who’s teasing whom at this point. You do know, however, that Haechan is the first to cave, leaning in with a groan to close the distance between you two and connect your lips.

You two kiss with an air of desperation, a feverish quality to your every move as he kneads your thighs, hiking your skirt up higher. His tongue eases between your lips and he strokes it against your own, pushing forward slightly to suck on your tongue when he pulls back.

As you two kiss, you push your hand past the band of his sweats, moving to slip your hand into his boxers, only to stop short and look at him in surprise. He raises his eyebrows and grins playfully, eyes darting between where your hand lies in his pants and your shocked face.

“No boxers? Just out here, rawdogging your sweats, dick and balls and all?” You’re incredulous, and he shrugs as his grin widens. “You really are a slut, Haechan.”

“Hey!” Haechan complains, frowning at you. He wraps his hand around your wrist and urges it lower down until your fingertips are brushing against his length, murmuring, “Besides, don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“I never said I don’t love it,” you reply slowly, wrapping your hand around the base of his length. His erection is hot and heavy in your palm, thick and tempting, and you stroke upwards, relishing the hiss he lets out. “I just said you’re a slut.”

“And what about you, pretty?” Haechan presses in a low voice. “Are you a little slut?”

“Me? No,” you answer, stroking his length faster and appreciating the way he grows in your hand. “I’m innocent.”

“Sure,” he snorts in amusement. “Your hand is wrapped around my dick right now.”

“Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed.” You twist your wrist, tightening your grip on him and stroking him faster. He grunts in satisfaction and leans closer to you, tilting your head to the side slightly and giving your neck heated, wet kisses as you jerk him off. You welcome the attention eagerly, loosely hooking your legs around the backs of his legs and sighing happily as he licks and sucks at your pulse point.

“Wait—slow down, or I’m gonna cum.” Haechan mutters in a warning tone against your skin, and it’s your turn to snort in amusement.

“Haechan, what do you think my goal is right now?”

“No, but—shit,” he swears, biting down on your neck to stifle the groan that escapes him when you jerk him off faster, swiping your thumb over the head of his length, collecting the glaze of his precum and using it as lubrication. “No, because—ugh, that feels so good.”

“Good,” you hum sweetly, massaging his tip with your thumb and working your hand up and down his length as he pants against your neck, his kisses getting sloppier.

“I can’t,” he manages to get out through his clenched teeth. “No Nut November—the bet—”

“Fuck the bet,” you say simply, and he shakes his head, a desperate, plaintive whine leaving him.

“Can’t—I can’t cum,” he says through a shaky exhale, and you roll your eyes as you collect several more beads of precum from the head of his length.

“What’s this, Haechan?” you taunt him playfully, stroking him faster with the help of the precum. “Feels like cum to me.”

“That doesn’t count,” he whines, and you snicker.

“You really don’t want to cum?” you ask gently, rolling your eyes as he starts to thrust forward into your hand. “You’re not acting like you don’t want to cum.”

“It feels so good,” he complains, and you coo sympathetically, letting him fuck into your fist.

“Then cum.”

“No—”

“Then I’ll stop,” you say simply, and his fingers dig into your thighs desperately.

“No—”

“Haechan.”

“God, fuck, please, just a little bit longer.” Haechan pants, and you pretend to oblige, continuing to provide the fist he’s fucking. You can feel him throbbing in your hand as his would-be climax approaches, and you smile devilishly when you pull your hand out from his underwear and watch as he goes through every stage of grief, lingering in anger before a brief pass through bargaining and finally coming to acceptance as his head hangs low.

“Sorry,” you say with a pout, and he looks up at you, still defeated but also skeptical.

“Are you?”

You pretend to think. “Nope.” You gently push him away from you with a knee to his stomach, hopping off the counter and smiling at him. “Have fun getting rid of that,” you chuckle, gesturing to the now incredibly prominent imprint of his erection, and he glowers at you. “I’m gonna go take a bong hit.”

You don’t stick around to hear his response, turning on your heel and heading back into the living room. Your friends all turn from their conversations to look at you as you re-enter the room, all sporting the same expectant look, and silently celebrate when you shoot them a thumbs-up, Jeno and Lia high-fiving.

“Want some?” Jeno holds up the bong, and you nod, reaching for it before you stop yourself and look at your hand. “What’s wrong?”

“I do want some,” you say, “but I think I should wash my hands first. Be right back.” You head for the bathroom, peeking in at Haechan as you pass the kitchen and clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your laugh.

He’s standing with his forehead against the fridge, gently thumping his head against the metal door, and repeatedly muttering, “I fucking hate November.”

You know you should feel bad, but…you don’t. At all, really.

As a matter of fact, you think you might love November.

Friday, November 20th.

“Knock, knock,” you call when you poke your head into Mark’s room. He turns from his computer towards the door, beaming when he sees you. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course, dude,” Mark says, waving you in with one hand. He turns back to his screen and presses a couple of keys on his keyboard, swearing under his breath before turning back to face you.

“Whatcha doin’?” you ask.

“Playing Monster Hunter World,” he answers with a jab of his thumb in the direction of his screen. “Why, what’s up?”

“Missed you, that’s all.” you say softly, making your way over to his chair and standing behind it. “I did my rounds bothering your roommates and it’s your turn to put up with me.”

“You’re telling me Haechan let you leave his room?” Mark snickers in disbelief, craning his head to look at you.

“I told him I wanted to see you.” You shrug.

Mark snorts loudly. “And he still let you leave his room?”

“I can be very persuasive,” you huff, and Mark scans your frame before raising his eyebrows.

“I bet.” he mumbles with a small smirk.

You blink twice. “What was that?”

“Look at your outfit,” Mark swivels around in his chair to face you fully and you scoff in surprise. Mark seems to pick up on where your mind is heading and his eyes widen as he shakes his head vehemently. “No, not like that!”

“Then like what?” You cock your head to the side and Mark puts his head in his hands, sighing in anguish.

“Like—you look hot, dude—that’s all I meant,” he assures you in a rush of words, and you let out a small huff, prompting him to reach for your hands. He pulls you closer and looks up at you with pleading eyes. “I would never say something like that.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, and he swears under his breath.

“You just look really…fucking…attractive, so it’s no wonder why he listened to you.” Mark says carefully. You feel a smile coming on and you step closer, nudging his knees apart to stand between them.

“Really?”

“Yeah, oh, my God, yeah—” Mark stammers, releasing one hand to gesture at your outfit. “Your hair—I love when you wear your hair like that—and your jeans, they—um,” Mark’s voice trails off awkwardly and you cock an eyebrow, bending down to meet his eyes. “They fit you very nicely.”

“Mark, are you telling me my ass looks good?” You stand up and bite back a smile as his ears redden and he laughs nervously, releasing you to rub the back of his neck.

“Maybe,” he answers sheepishly, looking up at you. At the sight of your thoroughly amused face, some of his confidence returns to his demeanor. “Yeah, maybe I am.”

“If you were, I’d say thank you,” you say with a playful shrug. “Maybe even kiss you for the compliment.”

“I was definitely complimenting your ass.” The words can’t come out of Mark’s mouth fast enough, apparently, and you laugh in surprise.

“Well, thank you,” you laugh before you sink into a squat and rest your elbows on his lap. “Where do you want your kiss?”

He taps his cheek and you smile and lean closer to press a kiss there, his cheek moving under your lips as he smiles.

“Your cardigan is also really, um, flattering,” Mark adds when you sit back, and you raise your eyebrows.

“Is it? Haechan said that, too,” you muse thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he’s right.” Mark nods, and you raise your eyebrows.

“He made some dumb joke about my cardigan, too,” you continue, and Mark looks at you expectantly. “Said I look breedable—y’know, like that meme?”

Mark chokes on air, his face reddening as he coughs and splutters and you just watch with growing amusement.

“He said that?” Mark squeaks, and you nod with a grin. “I mean—well—”

“Mark, are you agreeing with him?”

“Well—”

“Mark.” Your eyebrows can’t possibly be raised any more than they are now. “Are you saying I look breedable?”

“Oh, my God. How did we get on this topic?” Mark mumbles nervously, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Answer my question.” you press, and he balks.

“I’m not saying that he’s wrong.”

“So you agree? This silly little cardigan makes you wanna breed me?” You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you fight back a laugh.

Mark looks like he could faint. “Can we please change the topic?”

“Sure,” you reply easily, and he visibly relaxes, slumping against his chair and exhaling loudly. “You know, I think you should get another kiss.”

He looks up at you curiously. “Yeah?”

“For your troubles,” you say, shrugging. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips and he nods, making you smile.

Leaning down again, you press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, Mark turning his head at the last moment and making you kiss him on the lips.

“For my troubles,” he repeats with a small grin, and you match his expression before an idea pops into your head.

“Maybe you should get another one.”

“Yeah, maybe I should.” He sounds breathless, and you bite back a chuckle.

“I could kiss you here,” you murmur, hovering over his mouth, and he leans forward to connect your lips, frowning when you pull back. Resting your hand on his lap and keeping it there even when he jolts, you look down at where his print is pressing against his sweats, smiling sweetly. “Or I could kiss you here.”

“Oh, shit,” Mark mumbles quietly.

“Is that a no?” you frown, and Mark chuckles, albeit nervously.

“You sound like you want to,” he says.

“Of course I want to,” you snicker. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to.”

“Oh, God,” he groans, his head falling back against the chair. Taking that as a yes, you sink to your knees and start untying the string in his sweatpants. “Out in the open like this?” he asks anxiously, and you pause to think.

“You’re right,” you muse, crawling under his desk and beckoning him over. When he hesitantly scoots closer, you resume untying the string to his sweats, pulling them down enough to reveal his boxers. Looking up at him with a grin, you press a kiss over his boxers to the underside of his length, smiling when his body goes stiff. “You can go back to playing your game, y’know.”

He lets out a small groan from the back of his throat but nods, reaching for his keyboard again with hands that tremble slightly. You press small kisses over his clothed erection as he starts his game back up, waiting somewhat patiently for him to get back into his rhythm.

When he starts to grow in his boxers, you pull the band of them down to let his length spring free. It slaps against his stomach, visibly flushed, and you wrap your hand around the base, stroking him slowly before wrapping your lips around his tip, licking at the slit leaking precum.

“Oh, fuck—” Mark grunts, his head falling back against his chair as his length twitches in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, you start to bob your head up and down his shaft, taking in more of his length every time you move downward. “That feels so good—aw, hell.”

Pulling off of him with a wet pop, you look up at his face. “What happened?”

“I died,” he groans. “A fucking pukei-pukei got me.”

“Mm,” you hum in acknowledgement as you flatten your tongue and drag it up the length of his shaft, swirling the tip of it around the head of his cock before you speak again. “I don’t know what that means,” you reply simply, taking him back into your mouth.

“You’re distracting me,” he whines, eyes darting from his screen down to you repeatedly.

“Pretend I’m not here,” you offer helpfully.

“My dick is in your mouth.” he says flatly, staring at you blankly. “Are you serious right now?”

You pull off of him again, stroking his length with your saliva as lubricant as you lick against the slit in his tip, and he sucks in a loud breath.

“Now it’s not in your mouth.”

“You’re kind of evil, you know that?”

“No, I’m not,” you say with a teasing pout. “You’re mean.”

“I’m mean?” he asks incredulously.

“Mhm,” you hum as you kiss down his length to his balls. He hisses loudly and his cock twitches in your hand, his body starting to curl in on itself as his abdomen constricts. You lick at them diligently and look up at his reaction, smiling as his eyes are screwed shut.

“I can’t—fuck, I think I’m gonna—”

“Cum?” you finish for him. “Do it.”

“I can’t, dude, the bet—”

“Mark.” you say flatly, still stroking him as you speak. “I’m giving you a blowjob and you can’t stop calling me ‘dude?’”

“Sorry,” he groans, bucking his hips up towards your mouth again.

“Just cum, Mark,” you coo, your lips pressed to the underside of his length where his tip and shaft meet. “I’ll let you finish in my mouth,” you offer, and he swears under his breath, gripping the arm of his chair so hard his knuckles turn white.

“Please don’t say that again,” he moans, and you hum questioningly.

“Say what?” you ask, feigning cluelessness. “That I want you to cum in my mouth?”

“Shit,” he gasps, his length starting to throb in your hand and against your mouth.

“I won’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and he whimpers.

“I can’t,” he grunts in defeat, and you sigh in disappointment, pulling away from his length. “No!”

“You can’t cum, right?” you remind him, and his eyes squeeze shut in distress as he looks thoroughly tortured.

“No,” he finally gets out, and you suck your teeth.

“Shame,” you say with a shrug. “What are you gonna do now?”

“Play this game and hope my boner goes down.” he mumbles defeatedly.

You nod. “Sounds good to me.” A moment or two passes before you speak again. “Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you move so I can get out from under your desk?”

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry—” He scoots back and you get to your feet, running your fingers through his hair gently as a nonverbal apology.

“No problem,” you reply with a smile. “I’m gonna leave you to, uh, deflate your boner.”

“Deflate? It’s not a balloon animal,” Mark snorts, and you shrug.

“Whatever. Have fun with your pika-pika!”

Mark chuckles. “It’s pukei-pukei. Pika-pika is the sound Pikachu makes.”

“Oh. Pikachu is so cute; you should play Pokémon instead.”

“I’ll think about it,” he answers with a small nod. You both know he won’t.

“Good! Oh, and also?”

“Mm?”

“Put your dick away before someone else comes in.” you suggest, pointing at his lap before you wave and head out of his room.

“Thank you!” he calls out as you shut his door, almost colliding with Jaemin.

“Sorry, Jaem!” you apologize.

Jaemin pats your arm good-naturedly. “No worries.” He doesn’t move for a moment, making you pause.

“Is there a reason why you’re not moving?”

“I was gonna ask Mark if he wanted to play a game of Overwatch with me,” he explains, jerking his chin in the direction of Mark’s door.

“Oh! Um, he’s not ready just yet—I just got finished, um…well…”

“Yes?”

“His dick was in my mouth.”

“Ah. So he’s hard.”

“Yes.”

Jaemin nods slowly. “I’ll just text him.”

“Good idea.”

Monday, November 23rd.

Your teacher bids you all goodbye and you pack up your things quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder and waving to your teacher as you exit the classroom. You don’t have to wait long by the door for the person you’re waiting for to come out, Haechan emerging three people after you.

“Thank God we got her off topic for the last thirty minutes,” you sigh in relief, and Haechan snickers as he falls into step with you. “I don’t think I would have lasted the rest of the lecture.”

“She’s so chill, but man, do those lectures make me fall asleep.” Haechan agrees, and you nod with a laugh, squinting as you exit the building and are assaulted with the surprising brightness that is the sky at 4:30pm.

You two get down the small set of stairs and you turn in the direction of your apartment complex. “See you later,” you say with a wave, but Haechan’s hand closes around your wrist immediately, startling you and stopping you from walking any farther.

“Where are you going?” Haechan sounds puzzled and petulant, and you turn back around, looking from where he’s holding your wrist to his face with an expression every bit as puzzled as he sounds.

“Home,” you answer slowly, blinking at him in confusion.

“What if we hung out?” Haechan suggests, tugging you a bit closer. “You can come over.”

“And do what?” you ask, and he pauses to think.

“I was gonna play Overwatch for a bit before I did homework; you could watch me,” he offers hopefully, and you tap your chin thoughtfully.

“Y’know, I was actually gonna go watch paint dry, and that’s kinda gonna take up my whole afternoon, so—”

“Oh, shut up and just come hang out with me,” Haechan grouches as you laugh at your own joke, eventually unable to hold back his laughter at how visibly amused you are.

“You’re just gonna ignore me for at least an hour while you play.”

“I won’t ignore you,” he promises. You don’t believe him.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, dragging out the last word, and Haechan sucks his teeth and yanks your bag off of your shoulder, slinging it onto his own. “Hello?”

“Hello.” He raises his eyebrows expectantly, and you roll your eyes.

“Why did you take my bag?”

“I’m going home. This bag is coming with me. If you care about it, you’ll come with me.” Haechan speaks slowly, a smug little grin curling his lips when you grumble under your breath.

“Come on.” You push between his shoulder blades, guiding him forward. “Let’s go. You’d better have snacks.”

“Of course I do,” Haechan replies, offended. “Do you think I’m a monster?”

“Yes, actually, I do.”

“You little—”

“Walk!”

You feel played. Played, scammed, used, bamboozled, and any other synonyms you’re forgetting.

It’s been 45 minutes since you got to Haechan’s room, he hasn’t graced you with the sight of anything but his back as he immerses himself in his game, and you just ran out of gummy worms.

“Haechan, why did you even invite me if you’re not gonna, I don’t know, talk to me?” you complain.

“I’m almost done with this game, I swear.” Haechan assures you, and you grumble incoherently as he returns his full attention to the game, leaving you alone with your thoughts once more. “Jesus fucking Christ, can Sombra get off my ass—”

“I hope Sombra gets you.” you mutter under your breath bitterly, not knowing what that even means.

You want revenge. And, as you study Haechan’s figure from behind, you come up with a pretty good idea of how you’re going to get it. You planned to mess with him in a different way—hence your precautionary measures of wearing matching underwear and putting a bit more effort into your appearance before class today—but this new method can’t hurt.

You take off your chunky knit sweater, balling it up and chucking it at his back. He grunts at the impact and turns back to shoot you a brief affronted glare, but the irritation wipes right off his face when he takes in the sight of your thin tank top you’re wearing underneath the sweater. It leaves little to the imagination, to be frank, the neckline dipping to reveal a bit of your cleavage, and the shirt rides up easily—very easily. You lock eyes with him once he’s finished staring at your newly revealed skin and blink expectantly.

“What?”

“You hurled your thick ass sweater at me, and you have the nerve to ask me ‘what?’” Haechan snorts incredulously, and you nod.

“Yes, yes, I do.”

“When my back bruises from that attack, I’m making you kiss it better,” he huffs, turning back around to focus on the game.

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter to yourself, already thinking about your next move. You shift positions, lying down on your stomach, making sure your shirt does its job of riding up to reveal a sliver of skin around your waist. You pick up your phone and pretend to be engrossed for a while until you sigh loudly.

Haechan turns to face you again, no doubt prepared to tell you to shut up, but—yet again—he finds himself speechless as his eyes greedily rake over your body, lingering on the bare skin of your waist and the curve of your ass in your leggings.

“Why are you sighing?”

“I want to go home.”

“Don’t go home,” he says immediately, “I swear I’m almost done. Our DPS keeps dying and the healers keep running off on their own—”

“Oh, well, if the healers are just out here running off on their own, we can’t have that.” you snark.

If Haechan notices your sarcasm, he doesn’t comment. “Yeah, I need them to get on the goddamn payload so I can—”

“Haechan, I don’t know what any of these words mean.” you gripe, and he sighs.

“The payload is—”

“Oh, let me be clearer. I don’t know, and I’d prefer to keep it that way.”

“Such a sassy little puppy,” Haechan snickers, and you hesitate.

“Puppy?”

“Yeah, puppy. It’s cute, like you. It fits.”

He’s got a point—it is a cute nickname. But for some reason, the fluttering feeling of delight (and budding arousal) you get in your stomach when he uses it makes you feel like being a contrarian.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

You balk. “I don’t like it.”

“You’ll warm up to it,” he says confidently, and you glare at him petulantly, trying your best to hide that you’ve already more than warmed up to it.

“Whatever,” you huff, and he chuckles quietly, raking his eyes over your frame again and wetting his lips before turning back around.

You can’t help but roll your eyes at how easy he is to mess with.

You don’t make a peep for the next fifteen minutes, your silence unnerving Haechan to the point where he turns around several times unprompted. He’s not even met with eye contact from you as you essentially ignore him in his own room, and you can feel it driving him insane.

Sure enough, in a moment, the monitor he’s using goes black in your peripheral vision and he stands up, stretching before walking over to you and standing by the side of the bed.

You don’t look up. “What?”

It’s his turn to sigh now, his fingers lightly tickling at the back of your ankle as he waits to have your attention. “I’m bored.”

“Sucks.”

He sucks his teeth, fingers grazing up the back of your calf and resting in the dip behind your knee. “Play with me.”

“I don’t play video games.”

“Not video games.”

“Unless you’re feeling up to getting your ass beat in a game of checkers, I don’t know what game we could play.”

“Oh, my God, stop being difficult.” Haechan groans, squeezing the back of your thigh.

You finally look up at him and almost wish you hadn’t. He’s looking at you like he wants to devour you and it weakens your resolve ever so slightly.

You pout up at him. “I like being difficult.”

He stares at you impassively for a moment before realization clicks on his face. “I know what this is about.”

“What what’s about?” you reply huffily, and he grins as he moves to sit on the bed on top of you, his knees on either side of your legs.

“You’re upset because I didn’t talk to you while I was gaming, aren’t you?” Haechan asks with a knowing lilt to his voice.

You don’t say anything for a moment. “I am not upset,” you lie.

“Aw,” Haechan coos, both hands gliding up the backs of your thighs and stopping just below your ass. You feel him shift on top of you and a moment later, his breath fans over your ear. “Did puppy need my attention?”

The way you tense under him is surely noticeable, and that annoyingly pleased fluttering feeling in your stomach returns. However, you’re still annoyed with him.

“Don’t call me that.” you grouch, and he chuckles, lips brushing your ear ever so lightly before he sits back up.

“Stop liking it, and maybe I won't.” Haechan retorts, and you say nothing yet again, scrolling aimlessly through Twitter. He lets the silence hang between you two as he kneads the backs of your thighs, but breaks it when he brings his hands to trace his fingers along the bare skin between your shirt and your leggings. “It’s the middle of fall and you’re in this flimsy little shirt.”

“It’s called wearing layers, nincompoop.”

“It’s practically as thin as toilet paper,” he quips back, and you huff as he pushes it up to reveal more of your back. “I could rip this right off of you,” he muses thoughtfully.

“Do not let the intrusive thoughts win, Haechan,” you comment drily, and he hums softly in acknowledgement, although it sounds awfully dismissive. “And put my shirt back down.”

“It’s not like it’s serving any purpose.” Haechan counters, and you groan, moving to sit up. Haechan presses down on your back between your shoulder blades, flattening you against the bed once more, and you let out an irritated sigh. “Only thing it’s doing is turning me on, actually.”

“That sounds awfully personal.”

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re being a brat.” Haechan pretends to swoon and you snicker despite yourself. “Come on, I’m bored!” He shifts his weight to his heels so he’s not sitting on you anymore and smacks your ass once, ignoring your yelp as he rolls you onto your back.

“That sounds,” you say slowly, deliberately stressing every syllable as you look up at him with a bored expression, “like a you problem.”

“I’m about to make it your problem, actually.” Haechan smiles down at you, shifting his weight forward again so he’s sitting on your thighs. “Because in addition to being bored, now I’m feeling a little riled up from this little outfit you have on.”

“So?”

“So,” Haechan stresses the word as he leans down closer to you, “I need you to be a good puppy—”

“Stop calling me that—”

“—and indulge me for a bit.” He finishes his sentence in a softer voice than he started out with, nudging the tip of your nose with his playfully. “Gimme a kiss.”

He advances on you even further, lips now but a breath away from each other, and flicks at your bottom lip with his tongue. You play coy, having fun with riling him up, and turn your head to the side to avoid his kiss.

“Aw, come on, puppy.” Haechan teases affectionately, his nose tracing down your jawline before he brushes his parted lips against your neck. “Don’t get all shy on me now. Where’d that attitude go?”

“Still here,” you mumble stubbornly, and he chuckles.

“So let me give you the attention you so desperately wanted earlier,” he offers, sounding more smug than ever, and you splutter indignantly, turning back to glare at him.

“I was not desperate—” you begin to protest, but Haechan flashes you a triumphant grin before leaning in and sealing the gap between his lips and yours. You whine almost instantly under him, body thrumming with excitement as he moves his lips against yours and teases them apart to guide his tongue into your mouth.

When his tongue strokes against yours for the first time, he groans in delight and breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you both take deep breaths.

“You taste like candy.” Haechan murmurs appreciatively.

“It’s probably the gummy worms,” you remind him, and he nods thoughtfully.

“Well, whatever it is, I can’t get enough of it,” he confesses, barely giving you a chance to respond before he’s kissing you again. His hips pin yours to the bed, his body pressing down on yours so firmly that you’re not sure if you could get up on your own.

Not that you’re complaining.

His hand moves quickly, on a mission as he slips it between you two and slides under the waistband of your leggings. He strokes at your core through the underwear, a wicked smile curling his lips when he feels the damp spot from your arousal.

“Poor puppy,” he coos in mock sympathy, pressing against your clit hard enough to make you whimper. “All you wanted was my attention, yeah?”

“Don’t call me puppy,” you whine, and he kisses down your neck to suck and kiss above your pulse point.

“I know you like it,” he pants, his breath fanning over your neck, “you know you like it; why fight it?”

“Shut up,” you complain, your hips moving up to meet his teasing touches.

“Fine,” Haechan murmurs, seeming to let it go (which you find suspicious). “How about ‘baby?’”

“I like ‘baby,’” you mumble, jolting in surprise when he finds your clit through your underwear. “‘Baby’ is good.”

“Glad we agree.” He doesn’t say much else, returning his attention to occupying his lips, which are lazily mouthing at your neck, and fingers, which are teasingly dipping into your underwear.

Getting fed up with his taunting, you squeeze your legs together tightly, letting out a small “hmph” of finality, and he chuckles, withdrawing his fingers.

“I knew you wanted to play.” He nips at your neck one last time before lifting his head and ghosting his lips against yours. His fingers dig between where your thighs meet, poking, prodding, and pinching as he tries to force his hand between your legs. “Baby,” he purrs, voice low and sweet, “be good and let me in.”

You just huff again, trying (and ultimately failing) to suppress your growing smile at his persistent attack on your legs.

“Fine,” he says with a shrug, retracting his hand from between your legs. “You leave me no choice.” His fingers immediately press into your sides, tickling you, and you shriek with laughter, squirming helplessly under him.

He watches you with a glint in his eyes and a grin on his face as he sits up, now using both hands to torment you.

You, meanwhile, have tears welling up in your eyes from how hard you’re laughing, and you weakly hit at his chest, your muscles seizing up from the attack.

“Stop!” you gasp, pushing at his hands desperately. “I’m sorry!”

“Are you really?” He raises an eyebrow, and you nod vigorously in agreement.

“I am! I’m so—please—I’m so sorry!” you cry pleadingly, and he moves so quickly that you don’t even get time to process the situation until he’s done. He pushes your hands above your head, gripping your wrists with one hand, and brings his free hand back between your legs.

“So you’ll be good?” That damn eyebrow is getting to you, the brow still raised as he cocks his head at you.

“Yes,” you say with a frown, and he coos in mock sympathy, kissing you and slipping his hand into your underwear. He looks down at where your bodies meet and traces circles all over your skin, slowly inching lower and lower until he brushes past your clit and parts your folds, looking back up at you with a cocky smile.

“You’re already so wet,” he teases, wetting his lips before he dips his head down to kiss your neck. “Do you want me inside?”

“Yes,” you breathe, and he grins against your neck.

“Yeah? Want my fingers inside you?” He’s teasing you again, urging you to ask for his fingers, and your patience starts to dwindle.

“Yes,” you repeat through your clenched teeth.

He hums thoughtfully and pushes his fingers into you slowly, removing his lips from your neck to watch you as you moan in relief. “That’s a good puppy,” he purrs as he drinks in your reactions to his experimental movements of his fingers.

“Not puppy,” you whine, but he silences you with a kiss, moving his fingers in and out of you quickly.

“I think you like it,” he mumbles, biting down on your bottom lip gently before bringing his lips to your ear. “Don’t you, puppy?” Your moan slips out accidentally, and he inhales sharply when you clench around his fingers. “Knew it.”

His fingers curl inside of you slowly, drawing out a whimper from you as he strokes along your inner walls, in search of your most sensitive spot. Your hips rock up into his hand, craving more of him, and he responds by pushing your hips back down and giving you exactly what you want. He pushes his fingers deeper, as deep as they can go, and his fingers finally find the spot along your walls that makes you moan and clutch at his arm desperately.

“There—right there—fuck,” you say breathlessly, and he nods, keeping his pace and using his thumb to massage your clit in eager circles that bring you closer to your climax.

“You wanna cum?” Haechan coos, and you nod vigorously, making a smirk curl his lips. “Say you’re my puppy.”

“Wh-what?” You stammer, confused, and he slows his pace, making you grasp his arm tightly in panic. “Don’t stop!”

“What are you?” he presses, moving at a frustratingly slow rhythm. You cry out weakly, and he raises an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“I’m—Haechan, please—”

“Say it, and I’ll make you feel so good. Whose puppy are you?”

“I’m yours—” you whimper, and he nods encouragingly.

“My what?”

“Your puppy, Haechan, please—” you beg, and he grins widely, nodding again.

“Cum for me, puppy.” Haechan urges you, and you finally let go, the coil in your stomach snapping and letting pleasure wash over you. Your nails dig into Haechan’s arm so hard that you’re sure you’ll owe him an apology, and he hisses, the sound a mixture of pain and pleasure, as you whimper his name and “please” over and over again. “God, I want to feel that when I’m inside you so bad.”

“You can,” you say with a smile, propping yourself up on your forearms. “You can fuck me.”

“Fuck, don’t say that,” Haechan grunts, his expression tortured. “I can’t—”

“You can,” you urge, pushing yourself up onto your hands and bringing your face to his. “You don’t even have to fuck me entirely—you can just put in the tip.” When he opens his eyes and looks at you, his expression is defeated, hopeful, and delightedly vulnerable. “Come on, Haechan. Just the tip,” you murmur, your lips a centimeter apart.

He stares at your lips in a daze before nodding slowly. “Just the tip.”

He makes quick work of discarding his pants and pushing his boxers down so his length springs up and lightly slaps against his stomach, and he looks up at you and chuckles, the sound a bit bashful. “Stop looking at me like that.”

You hadn’t realized you were looking at him in any particular way. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about to eat me alive.” Haechan mumbles, and you smile.

“So, the way you look at me all the time?”

“Yeah, like that.” Haechan grins cheekily and hovers over you, his hand moving to the base of his length and gripping it. When you don’t move and stay propped up, watching him with a challenge in your eyes, he pauses. “What is it?”

“I wanna be on top,” you reply simply, and he shakes his head.

“Too bad. I wanna be on top.”

You stare at him defiantly.

He stares back at you stubbornly.

You raise an eyebrow.

He looks from your eyes to your lips and back up before he groans in defeat and sits against his headboard. “Fine.”

“Yay,” you say with a wide smile, shimmying out of your leggings and underwear and moving to straddle his lap. You wrap your hand around his on his length and slowly stroke him up and down. “You’re so big, Haechan.”

“Thank you, puppy,” Haechan coos teasingly, bumping his nose against yours as you position yourself on top of him, bringing the head of his length to your entrance. He rubs the tip against your folds, collecting your arousal to use as a lubricant. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, easing yourself down. To your disappointment, Haechan uses his fist as an obstacle to prevent you from sitting all the way down on his length, so you really do get just the tip. The stretch isn’t unwelcome at all, your walls slowly adjusting to his size, and you let out a shaky moan that he echoes when you clench around him. “Feels so good, Haechan,” you mumble, resting your forehead against his.

“So fucking good, baby.” Haechan agrees, his fist slipping a bit further down his length and making him hiss.

“Just a little more? It’ll be okay, I just need a little more,” you plead, pouting for good measure, and his face scrunches up in thought. “Please?” You tilt his head up and carefully slot your lips with his, kissing him slowly but deeply as your walls tighten around him.

“Just a little more,” Haechan gives in with a shudder, and you smile as you ease down further, Haechan groaning and thumping his head against his headboard repeatedly in distress. “Maybe a little more, baby.”

You can barely hide your sneaky smile as you oblige, easing down on his length even more, and he moans weakly, his head tipping back. You lean forward and kiss his neck, sucking lovely little marks into his skin, and he grabs your hips with both hands, fingers digging into the skin as he tilts his head back more to allow you better access.

“More?” Your lips are pressed to his heated skin as you speak, and he groans before shaking his head.

“I can’t, baby. Feels like I’m gonna cum,” he grunts, and you whine as you squeeze around him, carefully studying his reactions. His hips hold you firmly in place so you can’t move further down on him, and his breathing is heavy, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck—do not do that again.”

“Do what? This?” You clench again, and he lets out a strangled groan, hands squeezing your hips harder as a warning. “What about this?” You lift yourself up, pulling off of him most of the way, and sitting back down. He swears so loudly that you momentarily hope no one else is home and his resolve visibly weakens, his hold on your hips loosening enough to let you slowly ease down all the way onto him, a relieved sigh escaping you as he shudders, a moan vibrating in his chest. “Just cum, Haechan,” you coax in his ear, nipping at the lobe gently. “You know you want to.”

“I’m not losing this bet.” He sounds determined, but even a fool could detect the waver in his resilience.

“But doesn’t this feel so good?” You rock your hips forward onto him, and he exhales loudly through gritted teeth, nodding vigorously.

“Feels amazing, baby.” Haechan agrees, finally tipping his head forward to look at you. “Which is why you’re going to cum, and I’m going to watch.”

“Only way I’m going to cum is if you do it with me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Haechan snorts dismissively, and you raise an eyebrow, already pulling off of him. His eyes fly open and he yanks you back down onto him, realizing a moment too late what he’s done. Pleasure shoots through his body so strongly that you can practically track its movement through the shudders that travel through him, and he drops his head onto your chest in defeat.

“Are you gonna cum?” you ask, and he shakes his head hesitantly, making you sigh. “Then I’m leaving.” Before he can move to stop you, you push his hands off of you and pull off of him, toughening up to mask the strange, now empty sensation between your legs.

“God, you’re evil.” He stares at you, aghast, and you shrug, pulling on your leggings and underwear. You climb off of the bed and grab your sweater from where it fell after hitting Haechan, and his eyes widen. “You’re seriously leaving?”

“Yep.”

“At least—” he starts, and you hesitate as you prepare to pull your sweater over your head. “At least let me make you cum again,” he offers, wild eyes roving over you desperately. “With my mouth.”

“As tempting as that sounds,” you hum, pulling the sweater over your head and fixing it at the bottom, “no. You might pounce on me afterwards, and if you’re not cumming, it’s no fun.”

“Okay, fair. I definitely might pounce on you.” Haechan sighs, rubbing his chin as he watches you get ready to leave. “You’d let me though; you can’t resist me.”

“What makes you think that?” You laugh, and he looks at you with an unimpressed stare.

“I just seduced the fuck out of you,” he points out, and you barely stifle your laugh.

“Haechan.” You stare at him incredulously. “Do you seriously think this was all your idea?”

“Duh?”

You sigh, lifting up your sweater and shirt enough to show him your lacy blue bra. His eyes widen before they darken, and you roll your eyes as he wets his lips, shifting closer to you. You drop your shirt and sweater back into place and pull your leggings down just enough to give him a peek of your lacy underwear in the identical shade of blue. “I wore matching underwear today. This was never not my intention.” You fix your clothing again as he gapes at you in disbelief.

“So you used me for my body?!” Haechan exclaims, his horrified expression dropping in favor of a pensive one. “Why is that kind of hot?”

You pause in the middle of lacing up your boots, shooting him a concerned look. “I think the counseling office is still open if you wanna book a session.”

“Ha, ha.” Haechan laughs sarcastically, scooting to the edge of his bed. You look around for your bag, and he gestures to it sitting just by his bed. You go over to look through it for your headphones, and Haechan eyes you wordlessly as you do.

“Anyway, I have business to attend to.” You straighten up with your headphones in your hand and shoulder your bag, moving to leave. Haechan’s hand shoots out and grabs your arm, yanking you back to him so you’re standing between his legs. He’s readjusted his pants, you notice, and he’s staring up at you with a doubtful frown.

“What business do you have to attend to?” He pokes his fingers through the knitting of your sweater with a petulant expression. “If you say watching paint dry again, I swear to God—”

“Relax, it’s not watching paint dry.” You laugh and he chuckles, not looking up at you yet. “My business is being somewhere that’s not here.”

“You little—”

“Besides,” you continue loudly as if he hasn’t interjected, “I have my vibrator waiting at home to finish what you started.” Haechan stills, slowly looking up at you and scanning your face for any sign of a joke.

You give no such indication, and he closes his eyes and breathes in loudly through his nose, exhaling out of his mouth. He releases you, eyes gazing at you with an unreadable expression. “Yeah, you’d better get going.”

“Why the sudden change?” you ask curiously, and he shamelessly looks you up and down.

“I’m feeling…pounce-y.”

“Okay, then!” You nod in understanding and step back, backing towards his door. “Have fun thinking about…whatever you gotta think about to make that go away,” you snicker, gesturing at the obvious bulge in his pants.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Haechan grumbles bitterly, standing up and making his way over to his gaming chair. “See you later.”

“Bye,” you sing-song, wiggling your fingers at him in a wave. “I’ll think of you while I do it.”

“If you don’t get out of my room—”

“Okay, bye!”

Friday, November 28th.

You’re sitting at home pretending to do your homework when your phone lights up. You practically pounce on it, eager for a distraction, and look at your lock screen to see a text message from Mark.

mark: hey

you: hiii i’m bored

mark: me too

mark: i’m at work on my lunch break

you: ohhh i’m “doing homework”

mark: hahaha that doesn’t sound fun

you: it’s not :/ this essay is due december 3rd though so i gotta get it done

mark: december’s so close wow

mark: i’m so happy november’s almost over

And with his last text, Mark gives you a very good idea of how you could best spend your time this afternoon. You root through your underwear drawer and take out one of your nicer sets of underwear and a bra, putting them on and putting your old t-shirt back on, ditching the sweatpants you were wearing.

you: yeah

you: hey mark can you help me choose something?

mark: sure what’s up?

Actually, why not mess with both of them at the same time?

you: actually hang on one sec

[you have created a group chat.]

[you have added ‘mark’ to the chat.]

[you have added ‘haechan’ to the chat.]

you: hii i need your opinions on something

mark: why the group chat haha

you: it’s faster than texting you both separately :)

haechan: what’s up? i’m in class right now

A mischievous smile curls your lips as you take a picture of your outfit, making sure the t-shirt is high up enough on your thighs to make it clear there are no shorts underneath.

you: should i wear this to sleep?

you: Attachment: 1 image

haechan: oh my god

mark: shit

you: or should i take the t-shirt off?

haechan: take it off.

mark: haechan shut up it’s still november

you: what do you think, mark?

mark: keep the shirt on

mark: please. i’m still at work

you: :( but it’s hot in my room

haechan: yeah mark it’s hot in her room

haechan: take it off, baby

mark: dude do you like being blue balled or something

You pull the t-shirt off and toss it on your chair by your desk, angling your body to take the most flattering picture of your lingerie set. When you’re satisfied with the picture, you send it to the group chat, giggling as you wait for their responses.

you: Attachment: 1 image

you: is this better?

haechan: you are so fucking hot

haechan: mark tell her how hot she is

mark: don’t tell me what to do haechan

haechan: i will not get cheated out of nudes because you don’t know how to give a compliment

you: it’s okay, haechan :p mark’s at work so he’s busy too

mark: exactly. you look very attractive btw

[you loved ‘exactly. you look very attractive btw’]

[haechan disliked ‘exactly. you look very attractive btw’]

haechan: “very attractive” what a nerd

haechan: you should just text me now. mark’s ungrateful

mark: haechan shut. the fuck. up.

you: thank you mark :) should i do what haechan says?

haechan: yes do what haechan says

mark: haechan i will piss in your shampoo

mark: don’t you dare stop texting this group chat

you: oooh bossy

you: that’s hot

haechan: god i can’t stop looking at those pictures baby

you: i’m glad you like them :) but i have another problem now :(

mark: what’s that?

haechan: what’s wrong?

you: i’m lonely :( i’m home all alone with no one to keep me company

mark: you’re killing me

mark: you’re actually going to be the death of me

haechan: ignore him keep talking

haechan: god i wish i wasn’t in class right now

you: yeah? where do you wish you were?

haechan: honestly?

haechan: with you. on you. under you. in you for sure

mark: haechan in front of my lunch? seriously?

haechan: not my fault you don’t have game

mark: dude stop testing me

you: mark i wish you were here too :(

mark: oh my god don’t do this someone just walked into the break room

Another idea comes to you, and you angle the camera at your body again, this time starting a video. You cup your breast and squeeze it, humming contently before trailing your hand down your stomach and between your legs where you slip it into your underwear, sighing in relief right as you stop filming.

you: Attachment: 1 video

mark: no fucking way

haechan: oh my god

There’s a pause in their replies as they presumably watch the video you sent and you take the moment of silence to think about your next moves.

haechan: you sound so pretty

haechan: so fucking pretty baby

mark: i’m going to pass out i think

mark: why are you doing this???

you: because i like when you both pay attention to me. remember?

haechan: i can pay attention to you way better than mark can

mark: you can’t even pay attention to the damn class you’re in right now.

haechan: who gives a rat’s ass what Professor Park has to say when there’s a hot girl’s pictures in my phone??????

haechan: anyway. baby can i hear you again?

mark: dude i’m getting hard right now can you not

you: stop calling me dude :(

mark: sorry

mark: what should i call you?

you: up to you—just not dude

mark: okay

you: or bro

mark: aw hell

While Mark takes the time to think, you send a video of your legs slowly spreading as your hand moves in your underwear, concealing what they undoubtedly want to see most as you play with your clit. When the pleasure starts to build, you let out a small whimper and speed your movements up, stopping the video right after your legs close around your hand reflexively.

you: Attachment: 1 video

haechan: god thank you so much

haechan: such pretty sounds baby

mark: babe please my dick is so hard right now

haechan: join the club i’ve been straining against my pants for the past five minutes

you: pics or it didn’t happen

haechan: Attachment: 1 image

mark: i’m in public!!!!!

haechan: and you think i’m not???

mark: i can’t send a pic right now

haechan: pussy.

mark: fuck you

mark: Attachment: 1 image

You smile in satisfaction at the sight of both of their pictures. Mark’s picture is of him both gripping and trying to conceal the noticeable bulge in his pants, while Haechan is proudly gripping the base of his shaft, not even trying to hide himself.

you: thank you :) god you’re both so big

you: wish i had you both taking turns filling me up :(

haechan: why stop at taking turns?

you: i like the way you think

mark: okay this is fun and all but i need this boner to go down immediately i have to go back to work soon

you: okay! i’ll stop :)

haechan: WHAT

haechan: NO

haechan: i have like twenty minutes left of class please keep sending gifts baby

you: no i can’t :/ mark’s got a point—you shouldn’t be getting hard in public

you: it’s public indecency :////

haechan: fuck the public

you: fuck me instead

haechan: don’t tempt me

you: too bad it’s still november :( have fun not jerking off

mark: wait a minute

mark: you’ve been fucking with us on purpose all month haven’t you

you: ? idk what you’re talking about

mark: oh my god

haechan: wait mark’s right

you: :( okay you got me

you: are you mad at me :(

mark: no you’re just in for it

haechan: for once i agree with mark. watch your back baby

you: pfft watch my back for what? yOuR rEvEnGe?

mark: yeah just keep laughing babe. i gotta go back to work

you: i’m gonna go finish myself off then finish my essay. have fun with your boners! :)

haechan: you’re actually wicked

you: :(

haechan: it’s hot.

you: :)

You put your phone down and reach into your nightstand drawer for your vibrator, giggling under your breath as you think about the conversation you just had. Sure, they figured out you were making things hard—no pun intended—for them on purpose, and they’re probably going to get some sort of revenge, but you figure that’s a problem for Future You to handle.

Tuesday, December 1st.

Yeah, so…it is now officially a problem for Future You to handle.

When Haechan texted you asking if you wanted to get lunch with him, you almost agreed before remembering the last interaction you had when you sent him videos and pictures of yourself while he was in class.

When you declined, and his response was “smart girl,” you realized you may be in a bit over your head.

If that wasn’t bad enough, you caught Mark staring at you with an unreadable look from across the student center when you went to meet Lia for lunch (an hour after Haechan asked you, to avoid seeing him). When he started to make his way over to you, you grabbed Lia’s wrist and disappeared into the throng of people passing by.

If that wasn’t bad enough, in your last class you went to, you saw Haechan looking in the window, smirking when he caught sight of you. He brought his index and middle finger to his mouth, spread them, and wagged his tongue between them in an obscene gesture that had you gasping and drawing the attention of your seatmate. When you looked back at the window, he was gone, but your phone lit up with a text.

haechan: found you :)

So you’ve spent the last half of your day hiding in your apartment, turning off your phone location and holing yourself up in your room.

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?” Yeji snickers when you jump at the sound of the doorbell. Lia pats your hand comfortingly before she heads over to get the door.

“You didn’t see how they looked at me today!” you whisper-yell back at her, brows furrowing.

“No, she’s got a point,” Lia chimes in, drawing your and Yeji’s attention as she returns from getting the door with a package in her arms. After a moment, she continues, “I mean, Mark was…I’ve never seen him look like that.”

“Right?!” you exclaim, relieved Lia gets it.

“I mean, worst case scenario is that they fuck you. And if this month has been any indication, you clearly want that, so—”

“Yeah, but what if they team up and get all evil?” you counter, and Lia scoffs.

“Threesomes are rarer than people think. What are the odds they’re both gonna decide to team up and share you?” Lia replies, and you frown.

“Yeji, back me up here!” you whine, looking at her, but she raises both hands and walks towards the hallway.

“I’m going to my room. As a wise man once said, ‘no fighting.’”

You and Lia pause.

“Who said that?” Lia raises an eyebrow and you both stare at Yeji in confusion.

“Wyclef Jean.” Yeji answers. You and Lia look at each other and back at Yeji. “In ‘Hips Don’t Lie’ by Shakira?” she tries again. You and Lia stare at her blankly. “Forget it. No one in this house appreciates my genius.” She turns and heads off to her room and a moment passes between you and Lia before she stands up as well, walking backwards towards the hallway leading to her room.

“You’re safe,” Lia assures you. As she turns around and walks away, you hear her mutter, “probably.”

“Hey!”

About an hour later, the doorbell rings again.

“Can someone get that?” Lia calls out from the bathroom. “It’s probably my other package!”

“Why can’t you get it?” Yeji calls back.

“I’m getting dressed from taking a shower!”

You and Yeji emerge from your rooms for a quick round of rock, paper, scissors—which you lose.

“Damn it.” You roll your eyes and walk to the front door as Yeji heads back to her room. You open the door to see no one—but there is a package on your doorstep like Lia said.

“This girl and her online shopping addiction,” you mumble, stooping to pick it up. You move to shut the door but it stops unexpectedly, a shoe jammed in the way. Your eyes widen.

You know that shoe.

“Oh, shit.”

The body attached to the familiar shoe shoulders his way past the door, Haechan standing in front of you with raised eyebrows and a smug smile.

“Oh, shit.” Haechan echoes you tauntingly, stepping towards you. You watch as Mark enters after him, shutting the door behind himself.

You look at them.

They look at you.

You turn on your heel, drop the package, and make a run for it.

You take off down the hallway to your room as their rapid footsteps thunder after you. You can’t help but shriek in panic (and, if you’re honest, a bit of delight) as they chase you further into the apartment, your heart racing as you clear your doorway and turn to shut the door.

One of them is quicker, however, and shoves his shoulder in the space, keeping the door from shutting. Unfortunately, the two of them are stronger than you, you learn very quickly as they force the door wide open and bombard their way into the room.

Haechan wastes absolutely no time, stepping forward and shoving you none too gently onto your bed before climbing on top of you. It feels like there’s a scream stuck in your throat as he roughly pins your arms above your head with one hand, cupping your chin with the other.

Bringing his lips to your ear, Haechan speaks slowly, stressing every syllable. “We’re gonna fuck the shit out of you.” Mark’s busying himself with sliding his hands up your thighs and yanking your shorts down your legs, and you wriggle under Haechan’s body, crossing your legs stubbornly.

“Yeji and Lia are home!” you exclaim, raising your voice in an attempt to get the attention of at least one of them. As if on cue, you hear the unmistakable sound of the front door unlocking.

“No, we’re not!” Lia calls out, and the door slams shut, the locks clicking into place.

“Oh, fuck.” You can barely get the words out before Haechan seals his lips over yours, kissing you deeply.

“You are such a tease,” Mark grunts through gritted teeth, presumably giving you a taste of your own medicine as he wrenches your legs apart. The thrill of being chased with the inevitable ending of getting fucked stupid has you positively buzzing with excitement, some of that excitement manifesting as a slick little damp stain on the seat of your underwear.

You move to protest, but Haechan slips his tongue in your mouth the second your lips part, your complaint melting against his tongue as he works the pink muscle against your own.

Mark’s chuckle lets you know he’s caught sight of the wet spot, and he presses two fingers against the stain, pushing the digits against you so insistently that you could almost swear Mark is trying to finger you with your flimsy underwear as a condom.

“Left us high and dry so many times last month,” Haechan scolds you, mouth still pressed against yours. “That wasn’t very nice of you.”

“Bet you had fun thinking about blue-balling us, didn’t you?” Mark asks, and you jerk your head to the side to break the kiss Haechan refuses to let up on, loudly sucking in a greedy breath before you speak.

“I did.” you retort, smiling sweetly. “I had some really good orgasms thinking about you two, too.”

“You can be smug all you want,” Haechan chuckles, his lips sponging wet kisses down your jaw to your neck. “Let’s see how smug you are when we’re done with you.” His words excite you even more, an eager whimper falling from your lips as Mark withdraws his fingers from you and pulls your underwear to the side.

You feel the warmth of his breath as he exhales against your core and it makes you that much more impatient, letting out a grunt of frustration as you buck your hips up towards his mouth.

“You played with us all of November,” Haechan reminds you, pushing your hips back down. “It’s our turn to play with you.”

“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” Mark groans as he rests what you assume to be his cheek on your inner thigh, depriving you of any sort of actual contact.

“Oh, my God, do something!” you complain after a painfully long time of waiting. It was probably less than fifteen seconds, really, but you’re incredibly worked up and not in the mood to take your time.

“Haechan, shut her up.” Mark mutters, and Haechan chuckles.

“Gladly.” he replies, and two fingers are pressing at your lips insistently. “Open up.” Any other time, you’d have the wherewithal to be embarrassed by how easily you comply with his order, but today, you’ll let it slide. Your lips part readily and your tongue lolls out, Haechan humming in impressed delight as he presses the pads of his fingers to your tongue.

You suck on his fingers lazily, your eyes already glazing over with pleasure from having some sort of touch, and Mark takes the opportunity to attach his mouth to your core, dragging his tongue up and down your folds with an almost animalistic fervor.

Your moan of surprise is muffled by Haechan’s fingers as he releases your wrists, pulls your shirt up past your breasts, and slips his hand under you to unclip your bra with surprising ease. He yanks your bra off with rushed, jerky movements, immediately latching onto your nipple and sucking at the stiffened bud, swirling his tongue around it.

“Shit,” you whine, muffled still by Haechan’s fingers, and he just chuckles from around your nipple, the resulting vibrations feeling heavenly.

Mark’s tongue explores your folds as he groans, loud and pleased, the almost ticklish sensation making arousal flutter in the pit of your stomach. He tucks one of your legs over his shoulder, moving in so close that when his tongue prods at your entrance, his nose rubs against your clit.

Haechan flicks your nipple back and forth with his tongue, his free hand groping your other breast and pinching at the bud until you hiss in pleasure and arch your back. He buries his face in your chest at the same time that Mark’s tongue pushes past your entrance and you squeal in delight, your hands both flying to their heads, tugging their hair to pull them closer to you.

Mark’s so lost in the sensation of his tongue peeking inside your core and the taste of you that he barely notices, a weak groan slipping out presumably without his knowledge. Haechan, however, responds by taking your nipple between his teeth and biting down ever so slightly until you try to squirm away, at which point he kisses it and switches to your other breast to repeat his earlier ministrations.

You’re on cloud nine at this point, your hips rolling up to get you closer to Mark’s mouth, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a growl and a moan as he throws one arm over your stomach to pin you in place, his tongue retreating from your core in favor of lapping at the arousal leaking from you.

“You like that, yeah?” Mark’s voice is throaty, thick from desire and lack of use, and when you whimper in affirmation, he lets out a breathless but cocky laugh before pushing two fingers into you, guiding the digits into you with no prior warning and carefully working you open as you get used to the slight stretch. “Yeah, I know you fucking like it,” he murmurs more to himself than you, his mind reeling with how his lips are still carrying the taste of you as he opens you up with his fingers, pumping and curling them rhythmically.

Haechan sits up, moving off of you to kneel by your side, pulls his fingers from your mouth, a string of saliva webbing between his fingers and your lips, and chuckles smugly as he smears the spit over your lips messily. Your cheeks burn in humiliation when he swipes under your lips to display more spit on his fingers.

“Mark, she’s drooling.” Haechan says with a mischievous sort of glee, and Mark hums in acknowledgement, brows furrowed in concentration as he finger-fucks you. “You’re making a pathetic little mess of yourself and you haven’t even cum yet.”

Mark meets your gaze, grinning with bright eyes before leaning down to suck your clit into his mouth, rapidly flicking it with his tongue as his fingers pump in and out of you rapidly, curled just right to hit your most sensitive spot that has you crying out in pleasure.

Haechan pinches your chin and shakes your head from side to side abruptly, wordlessly diverting your attention away from Mark and back to him. “What do we say when we make such a mess, hm?”

“S-Sorry,” you gasp, clutching the bedsheets in your fist as Mark’s fingers speed up.

“Are we gonna keep making a mess?” Haechan pouts condescendingly before shaking your head from side to side. “No, we’re not? Are you sure, puppy?” He nods your head and tuts disapprovingly. “I don’t think I believe you.” He taps your cheek with two fingers and you open your mouth. “Tongue.” You comply, laying your tongue out flat, and he leans over you and lets a string of saliva drip from his lips onto your tongue.

You whine in desperation at the warm sensation of the spit, but let it slide to the back of your throat without swallowing. Haechan brings his fingers back to your lips, bringing his face directly in front of yours, and pushes them to the back of your throat, smiling in satisfaction when you choke and cough, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“What’d I say?” Haechan teases matter-of-factly. “So fucking sloppy.” He retracts his fingers again and studies your face with fascination as you swallow thickly.

“Sorry,” you say shamefully, your eyes threatening to shut from the sensations Mark is causing between your legs, and Haechan lets out a small chuckle, leaning even closer to you.

“You’re lucky I like it messy.” He kisses you again, deep and hot and wet and filthy with sinful moans into your mouth that you inadvertently echo as Mark brings you closer and closer to a climax.

“Please, oh, fuck—I’m gonna cum—” you moan against Haechan’s lips, practically trembling with need, and Mark only offers a grunt in response, making lewd wet noises as he laps at your core with an almost feral determination you’ve never seen from him before.

“Cum, puppy. Cum all over Mark’s fingers.” Haechan murmurs, punctuating his words with increasingly needier kisses, and you do cum—hard, as a matter of fact. In an attempt to keep your volume down, you bite down on your bottom lip so hard that you’re surprised it doesn’t break the skin. Haechan tugs your lip free just in time for you to cry out loudly when Mark doesn’t stop, fingers still fucking into you and mouth still on your clit.

You push at Mark’s shoulders in a panic, but he barely budges, Haechan helping him out by catching your hands and holding them in place on the bed. Mark removes his lips from your core with a wet smacking sound and presses down on your lower abdomen with his free hand, heightening your pleasure practically tenfold, and you’re downright ashamed of the volume of the cry you let out.

“Stop,” you pant, squirming frantically under their firm hold on you, “that feels—oh, my God, I’m gonna—”

“Are you gonna cum again?” Haechan coos patronizingly, and you shake your head vehemently.

“Feels like I’m gonna piss myself or pass the fuck out—” You muster all your strength and wrestle one of your hands free from Haechan’s grip to grab the wrist of Mark’s hand that’s pressing on your lower stomach. “Oh, shit, please—”

“Keep going, Mark,” Haechan urges, watching you in awe. “Maybe she’ll squirt.” The gleam in his eyes both terrifies and excites you as a second, stronger climax builds inside of you.

“I’m sorry!” You sob, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry for messing with you for all of last month!”

“I bet you are sorry.” Mark mutters through clenched teeth, darkened eyes rapidly shifting from your core to your face. “Too bad we’re not done with you.”

As if on cue, your second orgasm hits you and it takes everything in you not to burst into tears from the overwhelming pleasure. Your body exerts practically all of its energy by trying to curl in on itself protectively, your body still subconsciously fucking back onto Mark’s fingers in search of every last bit of pleasure you can draw from him.

Finally having mercy, Mark pulls his fingers from you and shakes his other hand free of your grip, standing up straight and watching along with Haechan as you attempt to recover.

“You didn’t piss yourself or pass out.” Haechan points out, brows furrowed to match his petulant frown.

“You sound disappointed,” you half-exhale, half-laugh, trying and failing to prop yourself up on your weak feeling arms. “I also didn’t squirt like you wanted.”

“The night’s still young,” Haechan responds, and you blanch, trying to sit up again in alarm.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious, actually.” Mark pipes up, and you look between them with a mix of fear and anticipation swirling in your stomach. “You blue-balled us, what…seven times? More?”

“All together, it was eight times between the both of us.” Haechan points out, and you let out a strangled shriek, shaking your head as hard as you can.

“For the love of God, if you try to make me cum eight times today, I think my clit will actually break off or something.”

“Relax.” Haechan lies down next to you, trailing the backs of his fingers down your body between your breasts and down your stomach. “We’ll make you pay it off, like a debt. You can pay in installments.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you as his fingers draw closer to your throbbing core, and you smack his hand away, dramatically flopping over onto your stomach in a last-ditch attempt to protect yourself.

“You’re both insane,” you complain, words muffled by your faceful of pillow. “I can’t cum again.”

“You can,” Mark says, sounding much closer than before, and two hands grip your hips, lifting you up onto your knees. “And you will.”

“Oh, dear Neptune,” you whine, bracing yourself on your elbows.

Haechan snickers. “Whining and complaining, but you still got into position like a good little puppy.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you feel Mark positioning himself behind you on the bed, one hand pressing down on the small of your back to deepen your arch, and both males groan appreciatively.

“You look so good like this,” Mark grunts, pressing the head of his length to your entrance and rubbing it up and down your embarrassingly wet folds, collecting arousal to use as lubrication.

Without so much as a warning, Mark grips your hip with one hand and guides himself into you, smoothly bottoming out. You both react strongly, your head falling onto your linked hands as a whine filled with need leaves your lips while Mark swears loudly, his fingers digging into your hip uncomfortably hard.

“Mark, you’re so big, holy shit,” you stammer, swallowing thickly as he pulls out slowly, almost entirely, before snapping his hips forward and resheathing himself inside of you. You cry out weakly, your walls flexing around his length, and Mark hisses with pleasure, repeating the motion as he gradually builds up an almost brutal pace.

“You’re so wet, fuck,” Mark groans, his words tapering off into an uncharacteristically smug chuckle. “This feels good, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, the sounds of skin slapping against skin almost drowning you out. “So good, Mark—”

Haechan, previously content with just watching for a moment, loses his patience, lifting your head up and urging you up onto your hands. He maneuvers himself under you, pulling his cock out of his sweats and stroking himself slowly as he watches you get fucked, your eyes glazing over with pleasure.

“Open,” Haechan says for the second time, guiding his length into your mouth and leaning back with a relieved sigh. “Suck.”

To be honest, you can barely focus on sucking Haechan off with Mark fucking into you with all the desperation of a man who’ll never fuck again. Mark’s always been passionate, but you’ve always experienced that aspect of him in a tamer sense of the word; this man you’re getting to know now is passionate—rough and sensual and animalistic, the way he’s taking you with dominant, forceful strokes.

Haechan’s derisive chuckle snaps you out of your reverie, your eyes refocusing on him, and he’s looking down at you with an unimpressed expression, an eyebrow arched.

“You’re drooling all over my lap, you know.” He almost sounds bored, and your face warms with embarrassment.

“S—” you start to mumble around his length, but he cuts you off.

“Sorry? Don’t be sorry. Fix it.” He gestures at his lap, and you blink up at him in confusion. He sighs and chuckles, the sound surprisingly fond given the circumstances. “You’re so cute, baby. Lick it up.” He murmurs, tone surprisingly gentle as he gives such a degrading order.

“Wh—”

“You heard me.” His gaze is intimidating, to say the least, and he looks down at his lap and length pointedly. “Start here.” He presses your mouth against the flesh of his upper thigh, the tip of your nose coming back cool and wet with your saliva. You avert your gaze shamefully and start to lap at the surprising amount of drool you managed to produce in such a short amount of time, but Haechan tuts disapprovingly, catching your attention once more. “Look at me when you do it.”

Your face burns hotter than you even thought it was capable of but you continue, maintaining eye contact and licking up your saliva from both of his thighs. He strokes himself almost lazily as you do, eyes heavy-lidded with desire and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates on you.

Mark and Haechan seem to be silently fighting for your attention, because Mark’s thrusts escalate to an almost bruising pace while you’re tending to Haechan and he reaches around you to rub your clit, persisting even when you frantically try to swat his hand away.

“Be good, baby,” Mark murmurs distractedly as his hips continue to snap into yours. “Can you take it? For me?” As sweet as he sounds, it’s obvious to everyone in the room that you don’t have much of a choice.

You’re at the mercy of both of them, and not only do they know, but they know you know, and they know you know they know.

“Okay,” you whimper quietly, and they both laugh.

“She’s learning,” Haechan coos, stroking your hair with his free hand. He taps the head of his length against your mouth, smiling when you take him into your mouth and start to bob your head, your tongue gliding against the underside of his shaft and helping you move up and down smoothly. “Just like that, baby.” Haechan groans, his head falling back as he pushes your head down until your nose is pressed against his lower abdomen and his tip prods at the back of your throat.

You struggle to take it all in, but you finally manage, your throat reflexively swallowing around him, and he moans loudly, holding you in place as he thrusts up into your mouth with shallow pumps. You struggle to remember to breathe through your nose and tears prick at the corners of your eyes as he fucks your mouth, but Mark’s massaging of your clit helps distract you somewhat from the discomfort.

“You’re so tight,” Mark pants, “and wet, shit—”

The whine you let out is muffled by your mouthful of Haechan, who curses under his breath and thrusts up into your throat once more, making you gag around him and tap his thigh repeatedly.

“Too much?” Mark asks, sounding more amused than worried, and you shake your head.

“No, it’s not too much.” Haechan muses, finally pulling you off of his length and watching you cough and gasp for air. “Puppy loves taking cock—don’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan when you catch your breath, your voice throaty from sucking him off, and he smiles in satisfaction.

“She’s so good at it, too,” Mark grunts appreciatively, sliding his hand up your body to cup your breast. “Like she’s made for it.”

“I’m close,” you whine as a warning, finding it oddly arousing that they’re essentially talking about you like you’re not there.

“Good—I’m gonna cum so deep inside this pretty pussy,” he pants, each thrust pushing you closer and closer to the edge until you’re toppling over it, a broken cry falling from your lips as your eyes shut tightly, and you can feel his length throbbing within your walls as he pumps his cum into you. Mark shudders out a moan and kneads your asscheeks before pulling out of you and coming to lie on his back beside you, spent.

Haechan takes Mark’s place, kissing up your thighs, over the curve of your asscheeks, and up your back until his lips are at the spot just behind your ear.

“You get to make one choice tonight, baby.” Haechan murmurs in your ear, running his hands down your sides to grab your hips. “You want me to eat you out like this? Or do you want to sit on my face?”

“Like this,” you mumble, barely audible and slurring. Haechan and Mark chuckle.

“What was that?” Haechan asks again, clearly taunting you.

“Haechan, please?” you sniffle, and he hums fondly, massaging circles into your hips with his thumbs. “Eat me out like this?”

“Okay, baby,” Haechan coos, moving back from your ear until you can feel his breath against your thighs and fanning over your core. “Such a pretty, pretty pussy. Even with Mark’s cum leaking out of it,” he murmurs, a gush of your and Mark’s cum leaking out of you as if on cue.

Mark positions you on your hands once more, your body already starting to feel weary, and places himself under you where Haechan was a moment ago, slowly stroking himself. His brows furrowed, his gaze is dark as he watches your bottom lip tuck itself between your teeth in anticipation for Haechan to do something.

Haechan practically buries his face between your thighs, lapping at the arousal leaking from you. “Messy puppy’s even messy down here,” he grunts, wet noises sounding out from behind you as he licks and sucks at your glistening folds.

The feeling of his tongue moving between your legs both tickles and thrills you, the wet muscle gliding over your skin with ease, and Haechan pulls back slightly, making you whine and push your hips back towards him.

“You’re so greedy,” Haechan teases, landing a smack to your ass cheek. “Be patient.”

“Don’t wanna,” you whine, looking up at Mark in an attempt to garner sympathy. “Please?”

Mark’s already furrowed brows furrow even more, something you didn’t think was possible, and he tilts your head up by the chin to capture your lips in a kiss. It’s domineering, forceful, even, with his tongue stroking against yours needily as you whine into his mouth.

As Mark kisses you senseless, you finally get to see why Haechan stopped in the first place. A warm, wet sensation travels down from your asshole and drips down to your clit, the bead of saliva threatening to drop onto the bed. Haechan groans at the sight while you groan at the sensation, Haechan’s mouth quick to follow the path but in reverse, licking up from your clit and through your folds to prod the tip of his tongue at your entrance.

You whimper and jolt forward, almost biting down on Mark’s lip, and Haechan chuckles, spreading your lips apart with two fingers and teasing his tongue around your entrance slowly.

“Please,” you pant, breaking the kiss momentarily to beg for relief. “Please?”

“What, puppy? You like that?” he mumbles, pausing his ministrations to tease you. When you nod, he chuckles, cooing, “I know you like it; you like when I tease your little hole like that? Yeah?” You can only cry out in response, and he flicks his tongue over your entrance before speaking again. “That feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Haechan—” you plead in a desperate exhale, and he groans at the sound of your name leaving his lips, lurching forward and pushing his tongue past your entrance and into your core, not stopping even when you gasp and jolt away from him.

He yanks you back into place and smacks your ass once for good measure, warning you, “Don’t move until I say so,” before pushing his tongue back into you. He grabs your hip with his free hand, pulling you closer to his mouth, and Mark moves with you, his head dipping to suck at the base of your neck while you mewl in delight.

It takes approximately three guided rocking movements of your hips for you to realize that Haechan’s making you fuck yourself on his tongue, the wet muscle satisfying but a fraction of your need to be filled.

“More?” you beg, and Haechan drags his tongue up from your entrance to your asshole, swirling his tongue around the puckered rim as you cry out and reach back to swat at his head. “I didn’t mean—”

“Just wait,” he mumbles distractedly, flicking over it as you gasp and tremble. “See, puppy? I know what I’m doing.” Your hand slowly moves back to propping you up and both Mark and Haechan laugh, the sounds darker than usual and far more mischievous.

“You like that, hm? Like when Haechan eats you out from the back?” Mark grunts against your neck, and you look down to see he’s fully hard again, his fist now slowly pumping his length. “So dirty,” Mark teases. “You’re just a dirty little thing,” Mark murmurs, “aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you agree needily, willing to say almost anything if it means you get to climax. “Haechan, I need—”

“I know what you need.” Haechan silences you by letting another fat drop of saliva drip onto your asshole, his lips wrapping around your clit as he pushes two fingers into your entrance and traces another finger around your asshole. “You need all your holes filled, don’t you, puppy?”

“Mhm,” you can only whine as he starts to fuck his fingers into you, the finger at your asshole pushing in with the spit as a makeshift lubricant. It’s less than ideal, the stretch of his finger feeling foreign as he pushes it in up to the first knuckle, but when he starts to move it in and out of you at the same pace his fingers fuck your core, you can only gasp in surprise, clutching onto Mark for something to brace yourself. “Holy shit—”

“Yeah, that’s good, isn’t it?” Mark chuckles, tilting your head towards him. “Look at me; I want to see that pretty face when you cum.”

“God, fuck—okay,” you agree breathlessly, nodding as you struggle to keep your eyes on his. Haechan speeds up in his finger-fucking of both your holes, releasing your clit from his lips to go up and spit on your rim again to prepare you as best he can to add another finger. “Oh, shit!”

“You can take it,” Haechan mutters determinedly, both sets of digits pumping in and out of you quickly. “Can’t you, baby?”

“Mhm,” you moan, nodding, and Haechan presses a kiss to your ass cheek, a silent encouragement to hang in there. “Gonna—oh, God—gonna cum—”

“Good, baby,” Haechan urges, voice surprisingly sweet as he coaxes you to your climax. “Cum for me, baby, cum all over me.” He’s practically spewing nonsense at this point, too caught up in his lust to make any sense, lips refusing to part with your clit as he urges you closer and closer to your peak. “Want to feel you cum all over my fingers, baby, all over my face—gonna lick it all up when you’re done—”

You cry out loudly, now grateful to be home alone, as your climax hits, your mind and body toppling over the edge gracelessly as you succumb to the bliss coursing through you. You whimper Haechan’s name, then Mark’s, then Haechan’s again, then you honestly don’t know what starts coming out next; you can only make out the word “fuck” leaving your lips again and again—and again.

“So fucking pretty when you cum,” Mark groans, pressing kisses to your slack-jawed mouth. “Prettiest fucking girl.”

“Gonna look even better with both of her holes stuffed full of cock.” Haechan grunts, and your eyes widen.

“Both—”

“Remember everything you put us through,” Haechan reminds you with a devilish grin. “You owe it to us at this point.” As if to drive his point home further, he presses his spit-slicked thumb to your rim, chuckling when you jolt away reflexively and move to sit on your heels. He presses you back down forcefully, your ass back in the air and face squished against Mark’s lap as he pushes his thumb past the rim of your asshole, moving it in and out carefully.

Mark groans at the sensation of your face pressed to the underside of his length and shamelessly lets his shaft rub against your lips and forehead, a tremor of pleasure traveling through his body as you whimper at the sensations you’re feeling at both ends.

Haechan licks around where his thumb disappears into you, chuckling when you gasp with pleasure.

“Haechan, hurry up—I want to fuck her again.” Mark grunts, and Haechan scoffs, moving his mouth away from you.

“You’re so impatient.” Haechan grouches as he pulls his thumb out carefully, guiding you up so you’re sitting on your heels. “I get her ass.”

“Wh—no, you don’t!”

“Mm, yes, I do.”

“Dude, seriously—”

“Can someone please just fuck me?” you plead quietly, and they look at each other, exchanging words non-verbally with their eyes. “Please?”

“Don’t worry, puppy,” Haechan coos, coming closer and kissing your neck sweetly. “We’re gonna fill your needy little holes right now.”

“C’mere, pretty.” Mark urges, guiding you into straddling his legs and hovering just over his length as he presses the head of it to your entrance. He coats his length in your arousal, Haechan’s saliva, and whatever’s left of his own cum before urging your hips down so he slowly fills you up. When you let out a whine, he chuckles, pulling you down to kiss him, murmuring, “I know, baby. I know.”

“My turn,” Haechan chuckles mischievously, pressing his tip to your rim, both males holding you in place when you instinctively flinch away. “Don’t run from it, baby.”

“Mm—!” you cry out, voice muffled as Mark kisses you, as Haechan pushes the head of his cock into your ass, the feeling both incredibly foreign and unbelievably satisfying. “So much,” you gasp out, pulling away from Mark to look behind you as Haechan kneads your ass cheeks in what you assume is a comforting gesture.

“You can take it,” Mark encourages you with a husky voice, kissing down your neck to distract you from the discomfort.

“I can’t,” you moan, shaking your head.

“You can,” Haechan urges, “and you will.”

“God, fuck—” You hiss, scratching your nails uselessly against your bedspread.

“Don’t worry, baby—you’re gonna take this cock deep inside you, and you’re gonna fucking love it.” Haechan grunts through gritted teeth as he pushes himself further inside of you, his length reaching places inside of you no one’s ever been before. The cry you let out is somehow deeply overwhelmed yet so full of need for more that it would startle you if you were currently of sound mind and body. “Just like that, puppy.” he chuckles, his words ending in a groan as he bottoms out in you, hips pressed against your ass.

“Doing so well, baby.” Mark praises you in a whisper. “So fucking good.”

“You gotta relax, puppy.” Haechan leans over to speak against your ear. “Otherwise, it’s never gonna feel better.”

“You can move,” you say breathlessly, closing your eyes tightly in anticipation as you try to relax your muscles.

Mark lifts you up slightly and carefully pulls himself out to the tip before thrusting back into you with a groan. Haechan grips your hips tightly and starts to pull out, the feeling making you keen desperately for more. When he bottoms out again, you reach back to grab his hand tightly.

“Faster,” you manage to get out, and Haechan snickers.

“That’s more like it.” He pulls back out and thrusts into you as Mark starts building a quick rhythm that has you stuttering out whimpers. The sounds only increase in volume when Haechan does the same, the pleasurable blend of sensations of both your holes getting fucked filling your mind with a thick fog of bliss.

“So fucking big,” you whine, both of them chuckling.

“Who, baby?” Mark asks.

“Both of you—”

“Good answer,” Haechan praises before reaching around and rubbing at your clit, persisting even when you yelp in protest and try to smack his hand away. “Relax,” he reminds you, sounding smug as he tweaks the hypersensitive bud between his fingers.

“God, she’s so fucking wet,” Mark moans, his every syllable punctuated with a powerful thrust into you. “Feels like I’m gonna slip right out.” He reaches between your bodies and tugs at your nipples, kneading your breasts and running his thumbs over the sensitive buds.

“Please—oh, my God—” you beg, not even sure what it is you want.

“Good, yeah?” Mark teases, and you nod vigorously.

“So fucking good,” you pant, “feels so full.”

When he pulls you back down for a kiss, his hand returns to kneading your breasts as he teases your tongue with his. Haechan’s thrusts are rough and fast and deep, the pleasure forcing tears out of your eyes. His slick fingers press down harder on your clit and you nearly collapse, your eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, do that again, Haechan,” Mark groans against your lips. “She got so fucking tight—”

“This?” Haechan asks, fucking into you harder as he presses down on your clit again.

“Yeah—God, you’re so fucking tight—” Mark kisses away your tears even as fresh ones fall before sucking at a spot on your neck that makes you reflexively tilt your head to allow him more access.

“You like that, baby?” Haechan taunts you, audibly grinning as he speeds up the circles on your clit, and you cry out weakly, a teary whimper leaving you as more tears fall. “I know you do,” he grunts breathlessly, driving his hips into you harder.

“God, I’m gonna—” You can barely get the words out as your climax approaches, your hips fucking back onto Haechan’s length.

“Cum, baby.” Mark tugs particularly hard on your nipple, eliciting another cry from you as you hit your peak, your body attempting to curl in on itself as the pleasure courses through you. “That’s it, fuck, you’re so good.” He sounds slightly whiny and you can’t even bring yourself to help him out yet, the aftershocks of your orgasm still traveling through your body, buzzing through your veins.

“Mark,” you say, slurring slightly as you bring your lips to his ear. “You can cum,” you urge gently, and he inhales sharply.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you so good,” he moans, his thrusts growing more unpredictable before he thrusts upward, filling you completely, and spills his cum into you as his length throbs inside of you. His eyes close for a moment, Mark in a daze before he collects himself, opening his eyes, and pulls out of you gingerly. His gaze zeroes in on your core as his release and yours start to drip down your inner thighs, his face visibly spent while his eyes still hold that wild glint.

“Gonna fuck you so full of cum, puppy.” Haechan half-moans, half-growls as he pulls you up so your back is to his chest. Sucking at a sensitive spot on your neck, his hands grope your chest, kneading your breasts and rolling your nipples between his fingers. “Fill you so fucking good, it’ll be dripping out of you for ages.”

“God, Haechan, please cum—” you plead, fresh tears welling up in your eyes from how much pleasure you’re feeling. It’s almost more than you can take, one of Haechan’s hands returning to your clit even as you try your best to jerk away.

“You’re gonna come one more time for me, yeah?” he coaxes, and your eyes widen.

Underneath you, Mark chuckles at the panic on your face, watching you two lazily with a dopey smile on his lips.

“Haechan, I don’t wanna cum again,” you beg.

“Don’t want to, or you think you can’t?” Haechan presses, and you let out a small choked sob.

“I can’t!”

“You can—watch,” he answers simply, and you sniffle loudly. “Aw, come on; don’t be selfish, puppy,” he grunts, kissing up to your ear, his length pumping into you rapidly. “Give it to me. Cum.”

When you climax again, your body feels almost unbearably warm, your jaw dropping in overwhelming ecstasy, and your muscles go slack as you slump against Haechan’s back, distantly aware of Haechan’s thrusts slowing as he starts to cum inside of you. He keeps pumping into you at a slow pace, warmth flooding between your legs as more of your arousal drips down your legs.

“So fucking good, baby.” Haechan mutters through gritted teeth as his fingers dig into the flesh of your breast so hard that you whine. He pulls out of you carefully, your limbs immediately giving out as you practically melt onto the mattress beside Mark. Your breath comes in ragged inhales and exhales, Haechan gently flipping you onto your back and apologetically kissing the sore spots on your breast where his fingers dug into you. Satisfied with the attention, you tiredly push his head away and he lies down next to you, sighing deeply with relief.

“How do you feel?” Mark asks softly.

“Great,” Haechan answers, and Mark sucks his teeth.

“I wasn’t asking you.”

“I feel…” you start, and they both crane their necks to look at you. “Like you’re both still insane.”

“Maybe we are,” Haechan laughs tiredly. “You did a good job; almost paid off your debt entirely.”

“Please don’t bring up that stupid debt,” you complain, covering your ears.

“Also, turns out that puppy likes it in doggy style,” Haechan chuckles, “who would’ve thought?”

“Haechan?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Stop being a menace for one second. You’re making my head hurt.”

“I can imagine more than your head hurts,” Mark says sympathetically, squeezing your hand. “Are you, like, physically okay?”

“Yeah,” you mumble sleepily. “I’m covered in spit and sweat and cum, though, so I really want to shower in a sec.”

“Here’s an idea—we go shower and Mark and I will go get some of Jeno’s weed for us to smoke. That’ll make you feel better.” Haechan suggests, and you pause to think.

“You know,” you muse, “that’s a good plan.”

“Why, thank you,” Haechan says with a proud smile. “I am known for my intelligence.”

“No, you’re not,” you and Mark snort in amusement.

“I’m a genius!” Haechan retorts defensively, and you scoff.

“Who said that beside the voices in your head?”

“Do you want Jeno’s weed or not?” Haechan challenges.

You’re quiet for a moment. “Fine, you’re a genius.”

Haechan smiles in satisfaction. “That's what I thought.”

(“I can’t believe they really made it the whole month,” Jaemin mutters in surprise.

“I can’t believe I really have to give up all my weed,” Jeno laments. “All 5 pounds of it—”

“Five fucking pounds?! Jesus Christ, are you a dealer or something?” Lia stares in horror at Jeno, who just waves her off.

“We all do what we gotta do to get by.” Jeno answers, shrugging. “I smoke weed, Jaemin eats snacks—Lia schemes against her friends—”

“Hey! When I told Mark and Haechan she was home on December 1st and had her get the door, I did that for her own good. The three of them were dancing awkwardly around each other for a frustratingly long time.” Lia defends herself, and Jaemin raises an eyebrow.

“Right. Now look at them. Oh, wait. You can’t because they’re off fucking like rabbits. Again.” he drawls.

“I regret nothing.” Lia turns her nose up in a huff.

“Well, I regret hearing Haechan’s dumb joke about the new monthly challenge they’re doing.” Yeji rolls her eyes, gathering the attention of everyone else. “He didn’t tell you guys?”

“No,” they chorus.

Yeji sighs. “It’s Dick Her Down December, apparently.”

“That poor girl.” Jaemin winces. “It’s only the 5th.”

Jeno shrugs. “Somehow, I think she’ll be alright.”)

the end!! i hope you enjoyed :) please consider leaving positive feedback & thank you for reading!!

#haechan smut #lee haechan smut #lee donghyuck smut #donghyuck smut #mark smut #mark lee smut #nct smut #nct dream smut

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countryclubkook · 2 months

Note

thinking of topper’s gf cheating on him with rafe🤭

Favorite Secret

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Warnings: smut, cheating, mentions of alcohol, violence, blood, creampie, unprotected sex, P in V, not proofread

Summary: Your secret affair with Rafe almost goes terribly wrong when Topper decides to call in the middle of a hookup…almost

A/N: omg hii!! it’s been so so long since i’ve been on this account but I got a new job and a boyfriend🤭 life has been very very busy the last like year or so but I got the urge to write for my fav boy so I hope you guys enjoy this quick little fic🤍 and I hope all of you are well!

“Fuck Rafe, feels so good oh my god” you cried out, arching your back as your eyes rolled back when his cock hit the perfect spot inside of you. It was fucked up, screwing around with your boyfriends best friend, especially when Topper treated you so well. He bought you everything you asked for, took you on nice dates, held the door open, complimented you. Never did anything to hurt you…until that night, until that one party changed everything.

“Ugh come on Top, i’m begging you to just come for like 10 minutes. If you still don’t want to be there after that we can leave and just come back here, watch movies or something” you’d been begging for the last hour, it was the biggest party of the year and his best friend was hosting but he said he was too tired to go. You knew it was actually just because there had been whispers on the island that Sarah planned to crash it with John B and their new pogue friends.

As much as he swore to you he was over it, you know that wasn’t true and you were fine with it. You trusted him, after all you were the one there for him when she broke his heart the first time, having to be the one to pick up the pieces every single time he gave her chance after chance, you knew what it’d done to him and his trust. Having to risk seeing her there with the guy she cheated on him with didn’t exactly sound like such a fun time.

“Listen I love you, but I really would just rather stay in tonight okay babe? There will be many more parties that we can go to in the future” he said, giving you a soft smile and cupping your cheek with his hand. He could see the disappointment on your face and felt bad, you were obviously excited about this and here he was shutting it down over rumors.

“Okay, whatever you want to do” you let out a defeated sigh and nuzzled your cheek closer into his palm, not wanting to argue over something like this. It just wasn’t worth it and you did enjoy nights in with just the two of you, plus he was right, there would be another party by next weekend.

“Damn it” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head slightly, “Okay okay, 10 minutes and that’s it, deal?” he barely got out the last word before you were squealing and throwing your arms around his neck He wrapped his arms around your waist and let out a small laugh, the smile on your face lighting up the whole room.

“Thank you thank you thank you! We’re going to have so much fun okay? You’re not going to want to leave by the time those 10 minutes are up, this is going to be the best night ever” famous. last. words.

Everything was great, the two of you were having the time of your life. Drinking and dancing together, talking with Rafe and a few of your other friends, then you slipped away for five minutes to use the bathroom, 5 minutes. Who knew so much could go wrong in just 5 minutes.

You walked out to see a crowd forming around two people and heard shouting, you’d expected to walk over and see two guys fighting like usual. Both of them far too drunk to even make contact with the other, but instead you saw your boyfriend on top of John B, his fist connecting to his cheek over and over and over again. You didn’t even like the kid but seeing blood and spit fly from his mouth and his gurgled wails of pain made you feel bad and you knew you needed to stop it.

You saw Rafe standing nearby watching, small smirk on his face as his eyes darted from the two boys to his sister begging Topper to stop while she sobbed. You walked up to him and touched his arm to bring his attention to you.

“Y/N! What’s up?” he said it so nonchalantly, like the scene in front of you wasn’t even happening. You knew he hates the pogues, hell you know he’d let John B die right then and there and feel no remorse, but he was the only one you knew had even the slightest chance of stopping it.

“Rafe you have to make them stop, it’s over okay? If you guys wanted to teach them a lesson i think they’ve learned it so can you please make it stop?” you could see him thinking about it, his brows furrowing ever so slightly and eyes going from you to Topper and John B to Sarah and then back to you.

“Mmm, I don’t know Y/N/N…kind of feel like he deserves it don’t you? I mean my slut of a sister cheats on my best friend, your boyfriend, with that good for nothing pogue and then they have the nerve to show up here? To rub it in his face? Why should I stop them?” he cocked his head and gave you a smirk, leaning against the wall with one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his red solo cup full of god knows what. You knew the only way to convince him was to use the one card you knew would work, the one you hated using against him in all the time you knew him.

“Because you don’t want your dad finding out about it. You’re not even supposed to be throwing parties here, what happens if a pogue ends up dead because of the party and Ward finds out? I couldn’t care less if he dies, i’m just trying to save your ass right now so please” you saw his jaw clench, watched his chest start rising and fall slowly, more heavily than before, and you knew it worked.

“Fuck! Fine, i’ll handle it” he yelled before throwing his cup on the ground and walking over to the two, by this point John B was barely conscious and it’s like Topper was in his own world. Rafe walked over and pulled him off by the collar of his shirt before ushering Sarah to attend to her boyfriend, screaming that the party was over and for everyone to get the fuck out.

People quickly dispersed, whispering to each other about what just happened, until it was just the three of you left at tannyhill. Top was still fuming, veins bulging out, sweat dripping down his forehead, chest rapidly heaving, knuckles bruised and bloody, a crazed look in his eyes. You tried to walk up to him to calm him down but it’s like he couldn’t even see you, he instead turned around and walked to his jeep before getting in and driving away, leaving you stranded.

“What the fuck?!” you screamed, standing at the bottom of the driveway watching the taillights disappear as they got further and further away.

You walked back up to the porch where Rafe was waiting, looking awkwardly at the ground unsure of what to say. What are you supposed to do in this situation other than offer them a ride…or in this case alcohol.

“I’m sorry Y/N, that was shitty of him. Give him some time to cool off and he’ll come back to his senses, if you uh, if you want you could just crash here. I would offer to drive you home but you know…” he said, making a brief gesture to himself “i’m kind of drunk so, don’t really want to risk hurting you. There’s plenty of alcohol if you want to just get drunk and pass out in the guest room, the beds freshly made and I think Sarah still has some clothes here that would fit you.”

“Thank you Rafe, that’s really sweet of you. Do you think you could um, stay with me? Just hang out here and talk, drink a little, I just don’t want to be alone right now” you sounded so pathetic, tear stained cheeks and puffy red eyes.

“Yeah, yeah absolutely”

One drink turned into another and then another, the both of you drunk and giggling while you talked. And then it happened, one little glance at his lips in a moment of shared silence, his hand tucking your hair behind your ear, and you were in his lap kissing him. His hands roaming all over your body until you were pulling away to tell him to take you to the bedroom.

Clothes flying, drunken squeals and giggles slipping out between your moans, the way he made you feel, those were the only things you can clearly remember. And then you woke up the next morning staring at his naked chest, but you didn’t feel guilty for it, instead you wanted it to happen again.

And it did, it happened multiple times a week. Topper did apologize, made up for his behavior that night, but you’d already got a taste of Rafe and now you were hooked. He never suspected anything, didn’t notice the little shared glances between the two of you when you all hung out, the way Rafe’s hand would brush against your thighs, his little whispers in your ear that made you squirm, he was just happy you forgave him. You never thought you’d be at risk getting caught until now, when you were on all fours and Rafe was thrusting into you from behind, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your hip to pull you back into his cock. The both of you were so lost in pleasure that Rafe almost didn’t hear his phone going off, he quickly moved to grab it off the table and answer it.

“Topper, what’s up man?” your eyes widened, panic starting to kick in. You’d thought it was over, he knew, someone had seen something and told him, he put the pieces together, he was calling to tell him he knew.

“Y/N? Yeah she came by to pick something up, said she left it here the last time you guys were over and she had to be out this way anyway. Think she’s still upstairs” you let out a moan when he thrusted back into you unexpectedly, turning your head back to look at him with a bewildered expression. He just gave a a smirk and held his finger to his lips before moving it back to your hip and pulling you back into him to meet each thrust.

You dropped your face into the mattress to muffle any loud moans, pure bliss taking over your body each time Rafe’s cock pressed against that little spot inside your pussy, hoping the call would be over soon. And then the son of a bitch flips you over, puts you on your back and gives you that look. You know, the one that just screams ‘i’m up to no good and you’re about to hate me for this’.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, looking up at him in confusion while trying not to make a sound.

“Actually, she just came down. You wanna talk to her real quick before she finishes up and heads that way?” if looks could kill he’d be six feet under right about now, you shook your head but it was too late, the phone was by your ear and you had no choice.

“Hey baby” it came out shakier than planned and you hoped he wouldn’t question it, it was a lot harder hiding the fact you were cheating on your boyfriend when the man you’re cheating with had his cock buried deep inside your pussy thrusting into you like his life depends on it while on call with said boyfriend.

“Is everything okay? You sound a little winded babe” he was always so concerned, wanting to make sure you were okay at all times if he even suspected something was wrong.

“Better tell him you’re okay princess, don’t let him find out his best friend is balls deep inside his girlfriends pretty pussy” Rafe whispered in your ear, leaving open mouth kisses along your neck and chest.

“Yeah, just a lot of running around the house looking for my ring is a-all” you stuttered out when Rafe pushed all the back into you again, biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut.

“Okay…well I was wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? There’s this really nice restaurant i’ve been wanting to take you to, finally managed to get a reservation, and there was something I wanted to talk to you about” you weren’t even fully listening to what he was saying to be honest, you were paying more attention to how good you felt and the smell of Rafe’s cologne, the way his skin felt against yours, how your bodies seemed to mold together perfectly.

“Yea-yeah babe. Sounds great” you were about to let out a moan when long ring clad fingers found their way into your mouth and you, on instinct, bit down slightly.

“Great! I’ll be at your place to pick you up in like an hour okay? I love you”

“Great! Love you too bye” you quickly got out before hanging up and letting out a moan, digging your nails into Rafe’s back.

“Fuck baby i’m close, you want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want a little reminder that even if you’re with him, you’ll always be mine?” you could only nod, small whimpers filling the room.

A few more lazy thrusts before he pushed all the way into you and stayed there, feeling his cock twitch while he filled you with his cum. Your pussy clenching around him while you came at the same time, head thrown back and lips parted moaning his name, a white ring forming on his cock from your cum mixing with his. He pulled out after a few seconds and pulled you to your knees before sliding his cock in your mouth.

“Suck it off baby, just clean it up for me” and you did, licking every drop of your cum off his cock before he pulled out and got dressed.

You went to grab something to wipe the cum away when he stopped you.

“Nah, you go on your little date with my cum leaking out of you”

You gave him a dazed look before nodding and throwing your dress back on followed by your shoes, giving him a kiss and heading for the door.

“That was fun Rafe, i’ll call you later okay?”

“I know you will pretty girl, I look forward to it.” the smile on his face was genuine, not one that he had after a meaningless hookup, but one of true happiness. You brought out the best in him and he couldn’t even have you in any way other than this.

“Me too, I better go now. See ya” you were almost out the front door when you heard him yell your name. You turned around to see him leaning in the doorframe of his bedroom, waiting to see what he had to say.

“You’re my favorite secret”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #obx imagine #rafe cameron smut #topper thornton imagine #rafe smut #rafe cameron blurb #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe outer banks #topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #outer banks imagine #outer banks smut #outer banks fic

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princessbrunette · 2 months

Note

just thinkin about pope n innocent!reader,,, and her calling him daddy while he has her on her lap stuffing her w his fingers :( just thinking…

also, could i please be 📝 anon? :) i loovee ur writing

✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.

pope liked to reward good behaviour. he found positive reinforcement worked well with you, and was happy to use that to his advantage as it kept the two of you content.

if you were to make a good suggestion to the pogues, you were rewarded with something small and quiet as acknowledgement to your deed, like a kiss on the temple or a reassuring smile and nod. if you were to go out of your way to do something kind or helpful, like bringing him food when he’d forgotten to eat — or sewing up his shirt that got ripped on a pogue mission, you’d be rewarded with copious praise and affection, calling you his ‘good girl’ which seemed to be your favourite, melting like putty in his hands each and every time.

now these were things he did naturally, for nothing in return, purely because he wanted to. but it didn’t go unnoticed that the sweeter he was on his girl, the softer and more vulnerable you’d become — stripping you down to your most true self. he wanted you, wanted all of you— so he’d keep going, keep praising to work you out. you were popes favourite thing to study.

when you’d been consistently well behaved through the entire day, even when odds were against you — he’d often help you unwind with your favourite type of reward, having you on his lap with his long skilful fingers deep inside.

“i know, i know. how’s it feel when it rub you like this, hm? can you talk to me?” he used his softest tone on you, not the voice he uses to sark at jj or argue against john b’s outrageous plans. he was his softest, most relaxed with you — and he loved that you brought that out of him.

“i—i like it, m’gonna cum soon.” you wail but it’s muffled into the smooth skin of his shoulder muscle, the plane that had been bearing all of your pleased tears and sounds.

“thats good, bambie. gonna keep rubbing that pretty clit just like this okay?” he lilts his voice gently, tilting his head when you don’t respond, too focused on breathing out heavy breaths against him. he noses at your cheek, craning down to try and get your eyes on him. “okay?” he repeats and you screw your eyes shut, nodding.

“‘kay, daddy.” you release with a held breath. he’s kind of glad your eyes were shut, because it catches him off guard for a second, blinking down at you as he continues to work his fingers inside you, thumb resting over your button.

daddy.

he couldn’t say he was surprised that you were into that kind of thing, infact — jj had in a way predicted it in once when the two of them were out on the boat fishing. something along the lines of “nah dude she’s real sweet. i see why you like ‘er. got the whole innocent, ‘daddy please fuck me’ thing goin’ on, ‘ya know?” now at the time, pope had been too preoccupied with scolding jj over being vulgar about his girl to entertain the conversation, but now it was coming back to him and he realised he was right.

it definitely made sense. bad relationship with your own father which had wound you up in his arms— someone calm, nurturing, enforces gentle rules and guidance, teaches you new stuff. even away at college before he met you he was a magnet to a certain demographic of girl, one who needed a gentle demeanour and occasional firm hand.

he wracks his brain for what to say as he drops a long kiss to your forehead, blinking rapidly as thoughts fire off. he wants to please you, wants to be that for you— and for once he hadn’t done his ample research beforehand to really support you through it. he decides on something simple, trying it out.

“daddies right here, let it go for me, pretty girl.” he’s more of a natural than he realised, and as if he flipped some sort of switch— you gasp, clutching onto him hard as he feels you gush around his fingers in a water-fall like consistency.

you slur a bunch of nonsense against his skin as he shushes you kindly, ears pricking up and heat rising to his face and cock each time the word ‘daddy’ comes out muffled against his shoulder. if daddy was what you needed, daddy was what you’d get. he better get studying.

✧˖°.🩰✧˖°.

#📝 anon #pope heyward prompt #deer!reader

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