#god i hope that follows me into the new year

[nadas-dirthalen]

A Veilguard Achievement Icon Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore... but Was I Right?

PART TWO: What Veilguard Did Narratively, and What That Tells Us Going Forward

[ 1 ]

Hello again, friends and travellers. Now that I've beaten Dragon Age: the Veilguard, I wanted to go through all those 30,000 words of predictions that I wrote in the ~11 days leading up to its release. I'd seen an achievement icon that pieced together a lot of Dragon Age lore for me.

But, I hadn't played Veilguard. All I had was the footage from September 19, the achievement list, and anything else BioWare had released.

So... was I right? And if so, how much was I right about?

This is your warning:This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

(my davrinmance is going great as i try and collect every codex, thanks for asking!)

Today's Discussion: to Understand Dragon Age, We Must Understand Its Writing.

Before I can go any further on why I think the way that I think, or why I imagine the story might take us in certain directions, it's essential that you all understand where I'm coming from. Veilguard, like any game, is a piece of art. Its bones are built with similar narrative structures to novels (though not identical, and that's important!). To make sense of what's to come, we must examine Veilguard's bones the same way.

I've seen a lot of people wondering why, for instance, the Inquisitor is not Veilguard's protagonist. I've seen people lamenting the fact that there were not on-screen clarifications of popular lore theories. Before this series goes any further, I need to say my piece about why I believe that it was essential that Veilguard was written as it was, and why its writing does in fact help us better predict Dragon Age's path forward moreso than even Inquisition.

That said, today I hope to cover:

What Veilguard Demanded of BioWare's Writing Team, and Why

The Protagonist: Why Rook's Perspective Matters

The 3 Act Structure: Our Lens

The Companions: Paths to Our Answers — and Future Games

What Veilguard Demanded of BioWare's Writing Team, and Why

Let's get this out of the way right away: it has been 10 years since Inquisition. And, like it or not, that means one gigantic thing for BioWare: if they wanted to have any hope of making more Dragon Age, they needed to bring in new players and resuscitate the interest of many old players who did not stay in the fandom the whole time. They didn't—and couldn't—write Veilguard specifically for you or I, people of Tumblr. If they did, it would've pleased us... and then cost them so much money that we'd never get any more Dragon Age.

That doesn't just mean modernizing the game's aesthetics, or providing a glossary in its Codex. It means they would have to balance all of the following (just at a glance):

Managing the learning curve in general. Not even I looked in the glossary as I played. Me, supreme enjoyer of all codices ever. It's just not something most players are ever going to do, as much as it the lore is such a fundamental part of the game in general. That means simplifying terms where possible — elven gods in place of Evanuris, for example — but also trimming down what would have to necessarily reference past games. Only a tiny fraction of the fanbase has played Inquisition in the last 3 years, nevermind this year.

Recontextualizing the lore. That does not mean rebooting it, it means situating all we have learned so far in a framework that fits all we have learned so far. Much of what we learned about the Evanuris seemed, for so long, to be totally separate for the things we knew about the blight and Blights. Veilguard needed to show us how those things relate, and to do so in a fresh context that would allow everyone to develop new understanding.

Pushing us one step past Inquisition's knowledge. Veilguard, after reframing the lore, had to leave us a path for new lore, and increased understanding. I think the devs put it really well when they say that their aim is to give us some answers, but leave us with even more questions. More on that later, and in future posts.

Updating Thedas' ethos. Let's face it. It has been 15 years since Origins came out. The things that were more typical of scifi/fantasy (SFF) then are just not the same now, and would not be perceived by 2024 players in the same way as by those who started Origins in 2009. The world has changed; our cultural understandings are broadening and need to continue broadening. BioWare is doing a good thing by incorporating things like nonbinary identities into Veilguard, and it is good that Veilguard is progressing the world of gaming in that way, especially considering its success. (This is also, I wager, why we choose an Archon out of two choices who want the same thing, rather than leaving that open to a more "evil" option).

Dislodge older fans from their Solas headcanons to get everyone old and new to the same confusion and potential distrust. Hear me out. Everyone who's stayed since Inquisition has beliefs about Solas. Even me, who got here in March of this year, whose fic reads overly soft now because I just didn't know Solas' grander plan until 48 hours before Veilguard came out. Everyone has had headcanons for so long that everyone has had time for their opinions of Solas to cement themselves. In order for Veilguard to work as a story, they had to debunk what everyone thought they knew: both lovers and haters of the famously controversial egg. By breaking down our existing beliefs, the devs open up essential curiosity from the players as to who—and what—Solas really is, which propels us through the narrative and has us absorbing information.

And this curiosity? It is why Veilguard could not have the Inquisitor as its protagonist. To keep us curious as players (and "readers" of the lore), BioWare needed a new protagonist.

Specifically, they needed Rook.

The Protagonist: Why Rook's Perspective Matters

Here's the thing. The protagonist is not just the face of the game. They are our vehicle to understanding that game. The plot follows their wants and responds to their understanding. What they don't know, what they want to know, is what makes up our every objective. Their emotional journey through the game is our emotional journey through the game. Following it, going after the things that matter to our protagonist, is how the entire game (including its lore) takes shape in our minds.

That's why it's essential that they don't know everything—especially after a ten year interim between games.

Veilguard's plot and twists proved that the Inquisitor did not know everything. They, in fact, knew less than half of everything. If we had kept them as the protagonist, all of our knowledge and curiosity would be shaped by the Inquisitor's understanding: a wrong understanding. We could constantly be fighting with what we think the Inquisitor should know, what should be true because we had seen it through the Inquisitor. We would be set up to be at odds with the very events of the game. Rook is a blank slate, barring a few key tonal indicators, and that blank slate allows for us to fit all previous lore into its new, recontextualized shape that I mentioned above. (Again, note that I am not saying rebooted.)

That, and Rook has multiple motivations. The Inquisitor is focused largely on stopping or saving Solas; Rook is charged with figuring everything out as it is happening to them in real time with almost no context or experience, AND stopping or saving Solas. The Inquisitor has existing allies and resources; Rook does not. Rook must build their own campaign from the ground up, and that means the player is building their own experience from the ground up. Their allies, abilities, and home base, yes, but also their knowledge. Discovering things at the same pace as Rook, with a similarly urgent drive to do so, keeps the game from infodumping at us. It keeps the reveals evenly spaced, but also immediately interesting to the player.

And best of all? Rook allows the writers to do what they want to Solas without breaking his dynamic with the endless sea of Inquisitors (or, at least, with way less risk of doing so). We needed to have our theories about him broken down and rebuilt as players; to do that to the Inquisitor would damage an entire sea of headcanons. We'd never get the Solavellan ending we wanted, for instance, if Solas had played mind games with Lavellan for that many months. And if Solas didn't do those things, if he'd been wholly defanged, he would have lost his appeal and importance in the narrative. He wouldn't be the Dread Wolf in the ways that matter to Veilguard.

It's important, then, that Rook has just the slightest bit of backstory. They care about their allies. They are not a potential political force like the Inquisitor. They have many options to be impulsive. Every single Rook has rebelled against authority. Every single one has a stubborn streak. BioWare put all those qualities there on purpose, because Solas uses every single one, in every single Rook, as a tool. That was all essential for his character development in this game! At the same time, they couldn't do that with the Inquisitor as protagonist, because after 10 years, no two Inquisitors are similar enough to predict/script their actions and responses in that way.

Those twists are perhaps the most important tool for forward momentum in the game. The more they keep us guessing, the more we'll play and seek new information, the more we'll learn. Which brings me to...

The 3 Act Structure: Our Lens

Like I said: BioWare couldn't just infodump at us in Veilguard. It wouldn't be interesting to even half the fans that stayed, these ten years. To keep us engaged as players, they had to string the lore through a series of engaging events. Keep the momentum up, so we would not be lazily looking over codices, but chasing new knowledge and understanding. It all had to be emotionally relevant and resonant to keep us caring, because very few people play games they don't care about.

Veilguard, like a lot of written art, follows the three act structure. Though there are a lot of variants on the more precise beats, they all broadly follow the same-ish path.

Hook: The opening image. In Disney movies, this is the song where the character sings about all the things they want in their journey, and what they truly need is only implied. It gives an opening note for the theme by showing what the character lacks, and what they might need to gain before defeating the final villain. In Veilguard, this is our prologue, centered entirely around Varric: the big red herring where we see that Rook is out of their depth, opting to push over a support beam rather than take on the Dread Wolf. Off-screen, it is also the background information about Rook, showing us who they are and what they want before we play.

Inciting Incident: The event that kicks off the main plot. In DA:tV, there's a big collection of these (because every companion needs one; we'll get to that). The first big one is, of course, the failed ritual. The death Rook doesn't see. The Evanuris are freed, but Rook has only half the information.

First Plot Point: "Plot Point" means "big/defining decision" in writer-speak. This is the moment the protagonist decides to go forth on their adventure. In video games, this is more or less determined for you, but you have the option to flavour this moment in Veilguard. You can choose how to tell Solas that you'll do what he wants: either by appeasing him or angering him. You do the same for Neve and Harding afterward, and then again in Arlathan and D'Meta's Crossing. You state that you're doing this, no matter what it takes.

First Pinch Point / "The Setback": "Pinch" means "twist" in writer-speak. It's the first time the narrative is shaken up, and is also usually the first time we see the true scope of the villain. In Veilguard, the first big twist has been called "the Setback" by some of the devs (notably, I heard it at a panel in September). For Veilguard, this is Weisshaupt. We see the true scope of Ghilan'nain's horrors, but we also see the first BIG hints (outside of Varric) that Solas is manipulating us—because he really doesn't seem to hate the Wardens as much as Inquisition enjoyers like myself expected. This event concludes act 1.

"New World" / "Fun and Games": The devs have remarked that they wanted to see the tone of their setback (Weisshaupt) threaded through the rest of the game, and we do: through Davrin and Lucanis' banter, through the reflections on the consequences of Weisshaupt, through every character struggling with their confidence and identity after that point, through the blight getting worse and worse and worse. That's what the New World is: the characters getting used to new circumstances after that first big twist. The Fun and Games are the slow and steady recovery from the twist, warming and solidifying formerly tenuous relationships. This is where we do a lot of companion and faction quests.

Midpoint: In a narrative that ends in a victory (so most games ever), the midpoint is a false victory. We think we've nailed something, only for something else to happen that begins to seed doubt in the protagonist's capability and/or ability to solve the plot. For Veilguard, this is the blighted dragon fight: we think we've got Ghilan'nain, but then Elgar'nan shows up and demonstrates that Rook is in so, so over their head.

Second Pinch Point: The second twist. The villain's identity is crystal-clear, and by now we've definitely interacted with the villain more directly. This is Arlathan, Elgar'nan's mind-trap—and Solas' "rescue" of Rook, showing his duplicity in full. Elgar'nan notably says a line about not falling for Fen'Harel's tricks again, and it foreshadows what we will see of Solas.

Disaster / Crisis: This is the event that triggers the protagonist's downward spiral. Not a twist (necessarily), but a catastrophe. In Veilguard's case, it's both: the Ghilan'nain fight leaves one companion dead-dead and another presumed dead. Then, the twist: Solas using Rook's sharply felt regret to pull his gambit and swap places with them. A series of events that literally had me gasping so frequently I got dizzy. Thanks, BioWare :) Many people say that this event, or something between this event and the "All is Lost" beat, conclude act 2. For games, the pacing is sometimes different, as is the cutoff mark, because otherwise the third act has the potential to be very short.

"All is Lost" / The Dark Night of the Soul: It's exactly as the name suggests: all has been lost. The protagonist doubts themself completely. It seems like nothing more can go wrong, and like nothing might ever go right again. The protagonist is at a loss for how to move forward. In Veilguard? Varric is dead. Davrin/Harding is dead. Bellara/Neve is dead. Rook is literally trapped not only in their regret, but in a reflection of Solas' regret. And to get out, they'll need...

"The Epiphany" / Second Plot Point: "Plot point" means "big/defining decision" in writer-speak, as stated above. Only this one contains more layers than the first. This is where the thematic statement of the piece comes out: the lesson that the protagonist must learn is stated, clearly, for all of us to see. It is the thing that picks them up off the ground, giving them strength to face the climax and the danger it promises. In Veilguard, this is Varric saying to Rook, "Have you learned nothing here?" and reminding both Rook and player that he chose this; Rook's companions chose this; we cannot blame ourselves for the actions of others. We cannot carry grief for other people, or we'll drown in it. Sound like any other character we know?

Climax: The big fight! But also, the big moment where the theme is shown to be the narrative key. In every ending of Veilguard, Rook being Solas' perfect mirror is the key to winning the day against the Dread Wolf. It just depends on what facet of Solas Rook chooses to mirror: the trickster, the nasty combatant, or the person who was haunted by their own failings and lost companions.

Resolution: Narrative threads are tied up, or a promise is made to tie up those loose ends in future installations. Veilguard's credits do both of those things. :)

Why am I telling you all of this? Because the lore must follow that skeleton. Every reveal we get must fit into both the timing and the feeling of those events. It would not fit to suddenly drop everything about the Titans right after Rook gets to the Lighthouse, which is why those enemies you need to kill to get the last memories are level 30-40. It would not fit to uncover everything about the blight's origin before Weisshaupt. If they forced us into that as players, all the casual fans and new players would duck out, feeling overwhelmed.

Even for us older fans, narrative structure shapes significance. You can tell a lot about a codex's overall importance and tone just by understanding where you find it, and when. That's why the Trespasser codices carry so much weight, even the ones about the Evanuris' actions that we don't see on screen at all: they are at the bitter end, and so they carry all the bitterness, longing, and mourning of that ending. Without the context of Trespasser, they mean less.

This is also why Veilguard paces its companion quests this way, not allowing you to complete them until later in the game. Every companion has something to teach us, and BioWare wanted to give each companion's narrative the weight it deserved.

The Companions: Paths to Our Answers — and Future Games

Anyone who's played Inquisition knows that companion quests shape entire facets of the lore in individual games, as well as set us up for the trajectory of the next games. Just look at Solas and Cole: together, they shaped our whole understanding of spirits in Veilguard. They set us up to ask all the right questions about not only spirits being bound as demons (Solas' quest), but about spirits being able to manifest in physical shape (Cole's quest). Together, their narrative conclusions foreshadowed much of the Evanuris' reveals in Veilguard: that they were spirits who could manifest into corporeal shape, and that they had the ability to ask others to manifest—and then bind them.

Again, these quests are paced throughout Inquisition's main plot. You cannot do their before Skyhold, and you cannot do them after the cutoff of (I believe) the Temple of Mythal. Inquisition forces you to see those quests' endings in the exact right spot: sometime around the midpoint (Adamant/WEWH), but before the disaster/dark night (the Temple of Mythal). They do that so you will feel that those things are significant.

Veilguard does the same thing. Every companion has a facet of the lore attached to it, but you cannot follow those threads to their conclusions at the beginning of the game. The game won't let you, because the moments need to be spaced out properly and carry the necessary emotional weight. Not all of their quests promise speculative material for future games in the same way, because some explain the context of the current game (Varric, in DAI, accomplished both with the red lyrium content, for instance; Leliana, meanwhile, dealt with the theme of faith in DAI and did not promise future speculation).

These concepts will all get far more attention in due time, but in short, here's what I think is associated with each companion:

Harding: Titans! But also, angry titans, and the difference between "angry titan" and "source of blight." In the same vein, what the dwarves should do going forward, and where they should place the titans in their culture.

Neve: The soul of Veilguard; her narrative is very current to DA:tV, in my early understanding. But she brings forth a lot of nuance to the themes of regret, and what that regret looks like on a smaller scale (a city, rather than a world). She does a lot of work in showing us that regret is regret, no matter the scale, and that the work we do to do better matters, no matter the scale. Additionally, her personal quest foreshadows Solas' use of blood magic against us being more than we thought by showing off Aelia's puppets, suggesting to us (tonally) that Rook may be Solas' puppet.

Bellara: The Forgotten Ones!! Anaris! Also, the place of ancient elvhenan in the future of Thedas, and what the elves should do/feel going forward.

Lucanis: I think they were going for some Forgotten One/Forbidden One hints, judging by some notes from the Ossuary and some banter between Lucanis and the others. This needs more dissection. Lucanis sort of does both what Bellara and Neve do: the Forgotten Ones, and also the heart of Veilguard's theme, with a lot of found family vibes thrown in.

Davrin: The blight itself, and the future of the blight without any archdemons left to cause capital-B Blights. Thedas' path to healing its nature.

Emmrich: The nature of what spirits are. I need to go screencap more specifics, but I swear this necromancer has referenced the difference between spirit and human soul and has stumbled upon saying that the two might not be so different at least once. Also, the Formless One centers around the Necropolis, and I'm thinking "spirits seeking bodies" and this whole idea of unlife/undeath is going to be explored later.

Taash: Remember how I said BioWare needed an ethos update? I think we see that most predominantly in Taash, whose entire personal quest is an examination of the values and priorities of different cultures, as well as the place of gender and gender ideology in Thedas. We saw this with Dorian and Krem in DA:I, but Taash modernizes that conversation (10 years has changed a lot!) and brings it front-and-center. At the same time, their existence is referencing (potentially) the Scaled Ones, and showing us that the kossith (Qunari) might have far more ties to Evanuris shenaniganry than we thought—and that those shenanigans did not happen on Thedas, but potentially far across the sea. (Neve and Lucanis accomplish this, also, with the Shadow Dragons and Crows, but not to the degree that Taash does).

This is why the companion quests MATTER, and (at least partially) why the game asks you to complete these quests or suffer consequences in the finale.

You know what else happens, upon completion of these companion quests?

You get codices. In Dragon Age, they are the threads that tie the seemingly disconnected pieces of the plot together, and that's on purpose. This time, they automatically unlock upon completing different stages of companion quests—and as far as I can tell right now, days after completing the game for the first time, the ones revealed later DO contain spicier hints about future lore than those revealed earlier.

And between ALL of these things—the demands Veilguard's timing placed on Bioware, the need for Rook as a protagonist, and the structure for every companion's quests—I think BioWare did an amazing, genius job with their narrative. Yes, I have seen some of the art book content, and yes, it would have been so cool to have those things, but... I truly do not think BioWare needed them, as close as I would have held cameos like Cole to my heart.

From a lore perspective? They knocked it out of the gods-damned park with Veilguard. They did an amazing job with each of their quests, and I promise: there is no shortage of juicy lore to be found in Veilguard. Now that I've inflicted an outline of what I know about stories upon you, I promise: all of this serves as context for everything I look forward to saying in future posts.

_____

If you got this far, thank you, as always!

This series is going to take a turn toward what I noticed in Veilguard, how I feel that Veilguard adds to my theories (or perhaps debunks some of them), and where I think the series is going to go from here. But in order to write all that properly and miss as little as possible (even though, in November 2024, with no wiki or transcripts, I am guaranteed to miss things), I need to keep playing the game and keep reading the codices I find.

Stay tuned for the next instalments, though I cannot say how quickly they will come after this. <3

[eddiebabygirldiaz]

my word count on ao3 is 582,643 wtf

[yeonjuins]

⤿  YEONJUINS’ 1K FOLLOW FOREVER

with the 2022 officially ending, i’m happy to announce that entering 2023, i finally reached 1k on my blog after a year of creating content (:

i would never thought that my little hobby of creating silly gfxs of my kpop boys would turn out to be so meaningful to me. it’s been a bit over a year since i’ve created this blog and i cannot believe i can confidently say that i’ve made some long lasting friendships on here. every single tag people have left under my works, either complimenting my hard work or laughing along with a small joke i included inside it, always makes my heart swell and one of the huge reasons why i always come back to produce content for yeonjuins, no matter how inactive or busy i get.

whether you’re a silent follower or someone that’s always popping up in my dash/notifs, thank you so much for being here with me. words cannot encapsulate how grateful i am to have such a supportive community that not only makes me laugh on a daily basis but truly makes me understand what it means to have amazing friends that wish to see you grow continuously. 

as we move forward into the new year, remember to be kind and gentle to yourself. you all deserve love after all.  

—   woo <3

# - g

@20cm​ 🤎 @7ww​ 🤎   @97chwe​ 🤎 @ambivartence​   🤎 @aquablues​   🤎 @ashisland​   🤎 @awek-s​ 🤎 @berryjaellie​   🤎 @bh-l​   🤎 @changbeens​   🤎 @choiyeonjuns​ 🤎 @digitalgirls​ 🤎 @dreamaze​ 🤎 @fleeceyang​ 🤎 @flops​ 🤎 @fushigojos​ 🤎

h - p 

@hansolz​ 🤎 @heejakes​​ 🤎 @heeseunq​ 🤎 @hooned​ 🤎 @hueningkai​   🤎 @hwichanis​ 🤎 @hwngintak​ 🤎 @inhypen​ 🤎 @injunnies​ 🤎 @jaeyunsim​ 🤎 @jaeyxns​ 🤎 @jhoons​ 🤎 @jminwook​ 🤎 @jongsoengs​ 🤎 @junjunies​ 🤎 @junranghae​ 🤎 @kangtaebins​ 🤎 @kdongyoung​ 🤎 @kimlipz​ 🤎 @kthyun​ 🤎 @kyubins​ 🤎 @leeheeseunq​ 🤎 @marksoloist​ 🤎 @marktual​ 🤎 @meraki-mark​ 🤎 @minghao-s​ 🤎 @m-oondai​ 🤎 @ofkimtaehyung​ 🤎 @pjmsdior​ 🤎 @polaroidlove​ 🤎 

q - z 

@racha​ 🤎 @sanchelinz​ 🤎 @slowrabbitpd​ 🤎 @wabisaba​ 🤎 @wonjinist​ 🤎 @yeonjune​ 🤎 @yukuz​ 🤎 @yutito​ 🤎 @yjunies​​

thank you all for either being a constant inspiration to me or just lovely people on the dash ! whether or not we’ve talked before, just know that i love your blog and seeing your posts, from creations to rambles about your day. thank you so much for making my tumblr experience to be so lovely and thrilling and i can’t wait to see whatever comes next for all of us in the future (:< 

[flamboyant-king]

Ya know what inktober or cringetober, what have you, I'll be drawing all these Isaac au shitpost nonsense baby. I FEEL ALIVE. WITNESS MY CRINGE OR LOOK AWAY IN DISGUST. IM LIVING! WRAAGGHHH

[imagine-nerd]

The fucking disconnect is so real.

[goldiipond]

nintendos announced not only the first mainline game with daisy in it but shes also a playable character AND we’re getting a new super princess peach i just felt little child skye explode somewhere

[d0d0-b0i]

always get so pleasantly surprised when people really like my stuff i post :) love you all. whether you celebrate something or not around this time i wish you all the best <3

[darkeyedghost]

Ok so in an attempt to regain some sense of chill-ness, here's my results day plan: get the 9:11 train to arrive in school for 9:40, open results on my own, text my dad, talk to my Greek teacher who was the only reason I got through the Greek exams anyway, leave school feeling light and free (hopefully), get a bagel at the train station, pick up my glasses from the opticians, come home to read he who drowned the world, maybe see my friends for an hour at the park, fall asleep after finally being over with stress

[cheekblush]

this week has been absolutely awful and it's only thursday 🥲

[qazastra]

actually can i complain about my boss again.

apparently he only wants to have one experienced person on a training shift from now on. one person to train the entirely new worker how to work at our cafe. because "labor costs are through the roof." are you

are you fucking with meeee FUCK WITH MEEEEEE YOU PAY US MINIMUM WAGE YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO COMPLAIN ABOUT THIS

hes just simply not going to have people who know what to do then!!!!! bitch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[autumnrory]

cowboy carter is absolutely my fave beyonce album since lemonade like it doesn't seem like a lot that i've already listened twice in two days but for me who so often is like okay i'll listen to a new release and then come back to it in a week or so bc i'm listening to so much other stuff it does show how much i'm into this one

[hoshigray]

I love your work so much and it makes me feel a certain way <33 BUTT im here to request something that I've been looking for 🤞🏽

Toji x Fan-Fiction-Writer ! Reader? I'll get on my knees if required 🫶🏽

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐜(𝐤)𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You know, some things are just not meant to be shared, such as fanfiction writing. And how the hell did your boyfriend, of all people, come to be the one to question you about your hobbies? You tell me, you dirty little writer…

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem fanfic writer! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - the reader is mid/late 20s; Toji's in his mid-30s - humor - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - deep impact position - degradation (slut, whore) - use of "Daddy" title - praise + humiliation - spitting - cervix fucking - little bit of rough sex - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (baby, cupcake, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweetie) - aftercare; taking a bath together - usage of a phone; erotic literature/writing - Toji teasing you to no end, the bastard, lol - reader wears glasses cuz why not, hehe - mention of drool/spit.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k (bless up)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: bro. this idea cooked so bad, i just HAD to make a fic for it, lmao!! apologies for doing this months late, hope I did the prompt justice, and ty for loving my works~☆

“Nooo, stop, Toji, give it back!”

“Hold on, baby, hold on…Phew, who knew ya liked wrtin’ dirty shit like this? The fuck is ‘pet play—’”

“Oh my God, stop it!” 

This had to be, undoubtedly, the worst day of your life.

If there’s one thing every human being on Earth has in common, it’s their love for the weekends. They’re amazing — have two whole days to retreat and relinquish the turmoil and stress after five days straight. They’re the days when you can choose whichever activity you want to enjoy your leisure. 

Some people catch up on sleep, others watch a show or try to cook up a new dish, and some go outside and hang out with friends. But then there are those weekdays where it’s satisfying enough to spend your day inside the comfort of your home, delighting in a hobby. 

The hobby you chose to indulge in this weekend was writing. And right at this moment, you regret it being the activity you selected.

Why? For one, it wasn’t just any type of writing, like journalling or poetry. No, no; if it were, things would be easier for you to deal with now. Nope, it was fan fiction writing. The type of writing you’ve known since middle school and decided to jump in and try for about a year. What started as a curiosity turned out to be a hobby that took up your infatuation to the maximum level: writing pieces every night, taking up requests from your following over six thousand followers, and serving as an outlet to project your fantasies onto the Internet. 

What type of fantasies, you might ask? The type you read in a room by yourself or in the corner away from prying eyes, under a blanket with your phone exhibiting the dark secrets that corrupt your mind, or the type that only could be accepted on the Internet and not from the judgmental looks of those in the real world.

But, most certainly, not the type of fantasies you wanted your boyfriend to see!

“Toji, please, give my computer back!”

“Nah, hold on; I wanna see this…Oh, what a title; ‘Fuck Me, Rail Me, Use Me, Daddy—‘“

“TOJI, STOP!”

Perhaps writing fan fiction with your boyfriend occupying your apartment wasn’t the best idea. But you wanted to get a draft don’t by the end of this weekend, and you were almost done with it. You were typing up a storm in your bedroom, sitting at your desk while your man, Toji Fushiguro, was doing at-home exercises in your living room. 

And you could’ve sworn you had locked your computer before going to the bathroom. All you know is that after flushing and washing your hands, you opened your bedroom door to a horrifying sight: Toji, sweaty from his routine in his sweats and wife beater, holding up your laptop that showed the exact draft that you were working on! No, no, NO! You almost tripped dashing to take the device, but the older man was too quick and effortlessly dodged your attempts while still reading the material. And now you know why you are hopping around your room trying to catch the man and stop him from reading more of your stuff. 

Spoiler alert: your efforts were beyond futile, huffing and puffing in complete defeat on your bed. Your boyfriend was sitting beside you, still reading aloud while scrolling through your drafts, to your dismay. Your ears and cheeks harbored an unbearable heat that you could cry at any second, and you covered your face in case it were to happen. God, please kill me now! 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how many of these shits have you written?” Toji inquires, his forest green eyes scanning every draft as if the list were endless. “How long have you been doin’ this?”

“For…a while.” You can barely muster the confidence to utter an adequate response. How could I have forgotten to lock my damn computer?!

“How long’s a while?”

“Uhhh, a…a year?”

The silence was pinching your skin enough, but you don’t know if you preferred it over the next thing he said. “Wow, who would’ve thought my sweet angel was a dirty lil’ thing writing filth like this?” Oh, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. You can practically sense the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, pulling the scar off his lip! And it hurts your being that he laughs at you grabbing a pillow to scream into oblivion. “What a horny minx.”

You removed the pillow to tell him off. “It’s not all my fault! Most of those aren’t even my ideas; some of my followers asked me to write—“

“Followers?” God, would it have killed you to shut up? “So you got people readin’ your stuff?”

Downcast eyes to avoid his surveying ones, “W–Well, yes…People like how I write, so I…..Write whatever they ask me.”

“Oh, wow,” raven eyebrows lift while looking at the screen, flipping through the notes of your drafts to your blog with your completed works. “So over a hundred freaks like how freaky you write.”

“Hey, d–don’t say it like that!”

“Oh really?” You didn’t like how he said that, nor when he pulled up one of your drafts to read. “… ’You spread your legs on instinct as she sucks on your chest, and the woman takes the initiative by sliding a hand down to your—‘“

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You sit upright and try again to take the computer away from him, but Toji swiftly moves to the bedroom floor. Fuck! It was hopeless, so you groan in exasperation. “Quit it, Toji; you had your fun, so give it back!”

He didn’t think so; finding something new about you made him curious to no bounds. And for it to be a bit of a suggestive side of you? Oh, how ashamed you were of him finding this out tickled him. “Damn, there’s so much on here…Have you ever written ‘bout shit we’ve done?”

You couldn’t believe he asked you that question — you couldn’t believe you were in this situation at all! Are you serious ”—ly asking me that?!?”

“I’m not hearin’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Now, this is just diving into a more profound level of embarrassment than you could handle. “Did’ya?”

“……………yes.”

“Wait, fr’ real?! Which ones?”

“I’m not telling you! Just give me my laptop—“

“Hell nah,” his elbow is strong enough to keep you at bay—how pathetic on your part being treated like a kid. “I’m curious to see what my lil’ sweetheart is tellin’ strangers ‘bout how we do our business—“

“I’m not telling them anything!!” You retort. “I-I just use our experience as a means of…references when I’m writing,” thumbs find themselves fidgeting together. “It…It helps when I don’t know how to describe a feeling, or….what it’s like during certain…..positions.” Was the room getting stuffy, or were you shrinking under the growing pressure of every word coming out of your mouth? Who knows. 

“Is there stuff y’ve written before that you’d like fr’ us to try?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was too much, bringing your –his– hoodie up to shield you from this predicament. And it only worsens when he stares your way, having you close up the hoodie by the drawstrings and collapse to his shoulder. Toji chuckles at your routing self, wrapping an arm around you. “Can’t even be honest fr’ a second.”

“Toji, pleaseeee,” whining doesn’t help, the older man moving the laptop out of your lazy attempt to retrieve it. “Give it baaack…!”

“Nnm, nnm, don’t wanna,” he places the device away to the ground and takes your hand with his. “Now I gotta read what weird shit you’ve been keepin’ ‘way from me.”

You shake your head frantically. “Please don’t! Don’t you think you’ve tormented me enough today?”

“Now, why would I ever get tired of fucking with ya?” The smirk on his face is still present after you open the hoodie to sneak a glare. “Shoulda thought ‘bout that and locked y’r laptop screen.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole…” his laugh at your words only proves your point, and you bury your face in his chest. This entire thing was so outrageous. How in the world were you this dumb enough not to double-check to make sure your computer was locked from prying eyes? What an amateurish move! Not even your closest friends know that you write fanfiction, so to have your boyfriend be the one to not only find out but bombard you with questions about your secret hobby is nothing short of humiliating. It can’t get any worse than this…

…Or so you thought.

“Hey,” you perk up to look at Toji. “You said ya got followers askin’ ya what they want you to write, right?” You nod meekly, twirling your thumbs with the bottom of your shirt. “Show me some.”

Appalled, you gawk, “Wh–why would I—”

“I know you have favorites from the hundreds I’ve been looking at for the past five minutes. So, are ya gonna show ‘em to me, or am I gonna have to read every single one to find out?”He didn’t show interest in returning the laptop to you even after asking the question. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby; I bet ya can look it up on y’r phone or somethin’.”

Your pout deepens in defeat as you begrudgingly stuff a hand inside the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone to click on an app. Your thumb clicks and scrolls for a few seconds before you peer to him and say, “…I do have some favorites.” 

Jesus, it hurt to admit that to someone, especially with your him of all people, who is without a doubt getting an absolute kick out of this, the fucking bastard! This was beyond embarrassing; nothing could ever top this moment. Indeed, there is nothing else he could have done that could have made this predicament any worse than it already is. At least that’s what you tell yourself to cope because Toji’s grin on his face says otherwise. And what he says afterward makes your blood shift to ice.

“Why don’t ya read ‘em to me.”

Yup, you were killing yourself tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go on; read that short one fr’ me.”

“Ahh—…Hahhh, ‘Sitting here and thinking…about your faves…Mmmm.”

For some reason, this felt so. Fucking. Wrong!

You already knew it was a bad idea for you to read your works to your boyfriend at his request. However, to be fulfilling said wish in this manner? The mortification had your ears ringing a thousandfold. 

How would you have foreseen this yourself, face stuffed to the pillow with your phone held up by your right hand with your legs spread up and your bottom propped up? Who the hell reads like this?! And on top of that, your boyfriend is alongside you, his body behind you. The inability to see what he’s doing arises uneasiness in the soul, quivers sneaking up as you feel the rough pads of his fingertips greet the skin of your ass after sneaking inside the oversized hoodie. 

Breath hitches at the slide of your panties, coming down for his hands to grope the flesh wholly. “To..ji…” his name leaves in shakes. 

“C’mon, baby,” you swallow thickly at the cupping of your chasm. Toji chuckles at the twitch felt on his palm, “Read it properly, yeah? Word for word.”

Oh, fuck, your brows trench together. “T…’Thinking about your faves pleasing you from behind. He knows he has to tease you a bit—Tmmm,” his lightly hits your butt. “‘B-By massaging your ass with his strong hands,” he does so, kneading your ass skillfully that has you involuntarily purring to his touch. “…’Keeping you still and relaxed so he can later feel you with his fingers and—“ his forefinger and middle slowly come from your clit to the entrance, biting your lips. “Nhhmm, hahhh.”

“Go on,” Toji scolds, the middle digit sliding up and down with a faint push. Your back quakes to the touch, fingers gripping the pillow. “What else is y’r fav doing?”

You inhale. “Mmmm…’and circle one of them around to warm you up—‘“ spit gulped down again when Toji’s digit did the exact thing as told. “‘And then, when he knows you’re ready for him, he sneaks them insi—‘ Aaaiiii!” His middle finger is shoved into your vagina, and your toes instantly curl before he pushes the rest ever so slowly.  “Oh! Ohhh, fuck…’He…then comes to your shoulder and says to your ear to make you tingle…”

“…’Stay still, sweetie,’” woah. You were not expecting that; you were too focused on trying to read your words, and Toji bending to your ear to read his part wasn’t noticed at all. You only hope he didn’t catch the clasp of your vaginal walls around his finger (he most definitely did), hoping the soft chortle meant nothing. “‘Gonna let me make y’ feel good, yeah?’” Jesus Christ, his gruff voice relayed this so intimately to your eardrums that your heart was beating too hard.

Toji’s finger goes faster, nearly having you almost drop your phone. Your face smooshes to the pillow from the scrape of his fingertip, biting on the pillowcase as he puts in the other finger. He whispers to your ear to keep going; unbelievable…So you lift your head and try. “J-J…’Just thinking about how easy he could make you cum—Mmmph! Wi-With his fingersss…scratching and rubbing your insides so precisely until you’re practically begging to mess his hand up’…”

“Oh, fr’ real?” The perk of his tone makes you anxious. “Well, don’ mind if I do.”

The pace of his ring and middle finger increase, and you gasp sharply. The onslaught of rubs to your inner channel is enough to have your lower half writhe despite Toji keeping your legs grounded with his single one. Oh, fucking Christ, your glasses up to your smooshed cheeks the more you try to conceal your cries, proven to be trivial as the seconds go by. 

“Aww, whaddaya think y’re doin’?” He coos with a kiss to your nape; you nearly shut down. His free hand takes your phone, “Tryin’ to hide that cute voice of y’rs from me? Fuck that,” he then removes his digits from your chasm as you yelp and makes you flip to your back. Oh, fuck no! Your hands go to cover your face—nope, Toji is quick to move them away. “Lemme see you, mama…Now, let’s see what else you should read fr’ me.” He swipes your phone screen, “This too wordy, this long as fuck—goddamn, baby; you writin’ whole ass novels or somethin’?”

“Shut up,” you reply as your legs move, and Toji’s left hand removes your undies. 

“Ah, this one!” He hands you back your cellular device. Your eyes catch the first sentence, and your face morphs into dread before staring back at him to meet his grin. “Go ‘head,” he says cooly, spreading your legs by the knees.

“…’Picture this: your favorite coming to your room and seeing you on your bed and striding to you to taste you,” you inhale deeply at the blow of air on your wet southern folds. “‘He crawls up to you while you’re busy scrolling on the phone, busying himself with placing kisses to your stomach and down to your undies. He’ll then take them off and spread your legs for him, greeting your privates with his ton’—Ghhh…!” Toji licks your slit leisurely; you gulp at the muscle perching between the lips of your labia. “Hahhh, shit…’The smell and taste of you are so inviting he can barely keep it together, virtually inching to stuff his face with your pussy. He kisses it, lips petting your clit,’” he does so, and you chew your bottom lip. “‘Then his tongue goes excruciatingly slow to e-explore your folds,” your exhale is shaky as Toji’s tongue laps and swirls; fuck, I can’t do this…

The older man, on the other hand, flips a switch and goes to town. You knew this was a bad idea; if there’s one thing Toji loved doing more than fucking your cunt, it’s eating it out. He pushes your legs up by the knees for easier access, the angle perfect for him to propel his mouth onto your entrance. You shriek, his nose frequently grinding the hood of your cunt as his scarred lips and tongue suck and lick you feverishly.

“—Tahhh! Ohhhshit, no…!” You cry, throwing your head back to the pillow. “Ahhnn, Tojiii, stop…not too fast—Oooh!”

He spits, mixing his saliva with your slick as he laves. “Mmmph, shit, taste ’o good,” Toji pushes his face further as he sucks on your clit, and you nearly choke on your sob. “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em out; scream like a real whore.” You jerk, but his hands firmly keep you down. “Keep goin’, cupcake, finish y’r reading.”

“Khhh, God, I can’t,” you gulp when emerald eyes peer toward you. “…’Before long, he’s too overwhelmed by you that he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his face between your legs and having you cry out his name in prayers—your phone is no longer a priority.’” Jesus, you can hear his grunts along with the lascivious sounds coming from below; he’s so fucking turned on. “‘Now he has your attention, playing with your…pussy like a toy just to hear you squeak.”  

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as he sticks his fore and middle digits into you. Fingers go to and fro frantically, and your free hand grabs his raven hair. “Christ, y’ sound so fuckin’ hot. More, gimme more,” a long and harsh kiss to your clit makes you want to arch so bad. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl…”

You hiss at the graze of your vagina; keeping your eyes open is hard to do. Lips go agape, and your noises fly out with no restraint. Your legs tremble, impending in a wish to close from the curl of Toji’s fingers. Your senses become too keen, your nerves heightening with every massage of your walls, lick and slurp of your slick and clit. 

“Ohooo, nhhmm, fuck, Tojiiii,” another suck to your clit has you grip the sheets. “Stooop, please; I’m gonna cumm…!” 

However, your boyfriend has another idea in his head. “Oh no, you don’t, princess,” his fingers leave you hurriedly with a squeal. He yanks for your phone once more to find yet another piece of yours for you to read, giving you so little time to recuperate. Until he scoffs with a smirk, “Ohh, read this one aloud next.” 

You take the device returned to you cautiously, scanning the first few words that catch your eye. Curiosity snaps to apprehension, “W-wait, no, please!” Begging won’t work, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please, Toji, look for some—“

“Aht, aht,” the click of the tongue shuts you. “C’mon, sweetheart, that ain’t what y’re callin’ y’r fav right now.” He squeezes your thigh, “What’s my name?”

“Toji, pleas—“

“Mm, mm,” he pinches you, a warning. “Try again.”

Excitement Nervousness flicker through your soul, breathing tardily as you muster to answer. “Sorry…Daddy.” The title burnt your tongue when it left your mouth, and the smile lifted Toji’s scar even more. 

“Good,” he praises. “Now read.”

“…One of my followers asked about writing a post about deep impact, so it’s—“

“Deep impact?” He questions while spreading your legs. “The hell’s that?” 

“I-It’s a, uhh,” you push up your glasses. “A position where you…kinda, like, sit on one of my legs and lift the other to your shoulder.”

Black eyebrows rise. “Ohhh, somethin’ like this, huh?” Sturdy hands find your ankle and lift your leg to his shoulder, and Toji then moves to have your other leg in between his. Your lips flatten when the groin of his pants—aka, the pitched tent–touches your hole. He whistles, “Oh, now I got a new favorite to add fr’ later.” His words aren’t meant to jest, so you frown as he snickers. “Alright, what did you write for this?”

You lick your lips; why? Toji uses his free hand to bring his sweats down, not surprised by the lack of underwear as his erection springs out. His cock is standing and ready for you, the precum oozing out alluring your eyes and your lip bitten by excited teeth. Of course, your vagina is clenching to a void—anticipation is a hell of a drug affecting your entire figure. 

“Don’t get too distracted, mama,” he caught you eyeing him, lifting the hem of his wife’s beater to bite down on. Your ears and cheeks scorched at the sight of his abs and torso. “Read those words.”

Your gaze flickers to your phone while Toji lines his dick to your entrance, a gulp at the kiss of his glans and your inner labia. “…’Daddy has you propped in a deep impact, a position catered to mutual pleasure and closeness. He taps you with the tip to have you excited, then slowly pushes himself into your—Mmfff!…y-your warmth,” reminding yourself to maintain a steady breath; Toji pushes his cockhead into your slick as you’re distracted. A few seconds fly by, and he slips right in; a gasp exiting your puffy lips indicates so. “‘H–He gently shoves every inch and stretches you out,’” his girth is lethal, your eyes rolling up the further his tip goes, scrapping your texture and your opening suiting for his length. “‘A-And, it feels so good to have him making you full and good’—Hoohh?!?”

That’s it, that’s what you were anxious about—you felt the jab of his tip on your cervix. You freeze instantly, too shocked to breathe as the hit was spontaneous. Your body locks down for a quick second to process what happened.

Toji notices your tightened grip and hisses, “Fffuuckin, shit…! So tight,” his hips go sluggish, and you feel his veins and shaft brush nicely with your insides. You sneak a glance at his flashed abdomen; the flex of his abs as he pushes his pelvis in waves is a sight to see–enough to put you in a trance. 

You continue. “‘His hip work is pleasuring, having you wail and cry out f-for more…the sensation of Daddy’s dick venturing inside and hitting your sweet spots is enough to make your toes curl—Nhhaaa…”

He can sense you gripping on him more; fuck, it feels so good. His thrusts go a little faster, forming a minimal medium. You exhale through your nostrils at the change of pace, and grazes against your walls become periodic and long-lasting the deeper he goes.

 “Daaah, ahhh, f-fuuck,” you whimper aloud. “Tojiii, y’ feel so g—Nnnmm!?!“ You nearly swallow your tongue from the sudden pound of him, the rub of your G-spot too abrupt to predict. 

“Who?” God, you know he’s getting a good kick out of this, the fucker. He pushes his cock to the hilt, and it takes everything in your power not to babble from the overwhelming intensity. 

“Daddy, daddyyy, don’t…!” Correcting yourself as his fingers dance around your unattended clit. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good..”

That’s more like it. “Good girl,” he bends closer, his knees spreading further apart. He pushes the leg on his shoulder so that the angle is plausible for him to rut harder. You shriek and squirm to his enjoyment, “Keep readin’.”

“‘Y-…You’re cries become more shameful the harder and faster he goes,” Toji stimulates for a harsher pound; another hit to your cervix has you winded. Despite your gasping for air, he doesn’t relent, and you jerk to undulate to another poke. “Sh-shiiit, Jesusss…! ‘He pistons so hard, so deep, it’s difficult even to think straight when all you can think is—‘“ a choked sob from a slow pull before a devious snap of the hips. “A-All you c–an think…Ahahh!” Another nudge to your G-spot; this is so hellish!

The culprit scoffs softly. “Think ‘bout what, baby?” He swipes and pinches your clit to have you jolt and whine. “Tell Daddy the rest.” 

Fuck, I can’t take it anymore! The phone slips your hand, barely missing your head. “Daddyyy, I can’t!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Another pinch to the bud pairs with a poke to your delicate womb. Oh, he’s such a dick! “Don’t wanna read fr’ me?” He chuckles aloud at you shaking your head ‘no’. “Why’s that?”

“C-Cuz, if you keep going, I’ll,” a head thrown back at another nip on your clitoris. “Ahh, I-I’ll…!” Shit, you can feel it, the climb rocking your bones to entail your soon climax. 

“What? Ya wanna cum on Daddy’s dick instead of readin’ like a sweetheart,” don’t believe the words; his faux disappointment doesn’t match the merciless thrusts and the devilish grin. “Wanna act like a whole slut and cum on me?”

“Yesss, yes, pleasee!!” You don’t care anymore; you want to let it out. “Please, Daddyyy, I wanna cummm!!”

“Heh, what a nasty girl you are—Nnnmm! Fuck, just milkin’ me dry, beggin’ fr’ it, huh?” The same fingers he used to play with your clit come to your lips to shove inside, forcing you to taste yourself. “Go ‘head, mama; let y’rself go, be the slut you really are…Hahhh, shit, c’mere,” he grabs for both your wrists with his free hand after taking off your glasses and propels you towards him at the same time as he pounds. Holy fuck, this position was getting rougher, pulling you in and hitting your cervix with accurate hits that you’re whining and twitching. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! It’s too much, it’s all too much to bear, so it’s no wonder you climax in seconds.

You cry with the breach of your crescendo, your inner muscles contracting around the cock, hitting your womb. Your nerves are now peaked as the air is sensitive to your skin, and you feel so out of breath, everything happening all at once that you can’t keep up as you thank Toji in babbled prayers, still sucking on his fingers as your vagina flutters and coats him of your essence.

“Good job, cupcake,” he comes closer and removes his digits. “Can’t beat the real thing, right?” He cups and massages your cheeks before spitting into your mouth. 

You don’t even flinch, too fucked out to even care, just moaning to his lips as he brings you in for a passionate kiss as his hips keep going until he’s done and satisfied…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ughhh, I can’t believe I just did that…”

“Pfft quit whinin’. Don’t act like ya didn’t enjoy it.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Whatever y’ say, Ms. Novelist.” You grumble at the name before he brings the washcloth to wipe down your neck.  

You and Toji were now in the bathroom, your nude bodies squished together, with the warm water cleansing you both. Hair and skin damp, your back meshed to his front as you sit between his legs. The soft yellow lighting basks the bathroom with a warm glow as you two bathe in relaxation, a needed state after the excitement prior. 

You snatch the washcloth before Toji wipes your face clean off. “Why did you have to be so nosy, looking at my laptop for what?” You wipe his arm that rests on the rim of the tub. 

He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s in for a lecture. “Well, if ya didn’t want me to see, shoulda locked the shit.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re nosy as hell! Could’ve just looked somewhere else or left the room!”

“Hmph, well, when you see the words ‘Down and Dirty’ all bolded and big and see another tab with a pic of a rimjob, who wouldn’t stop—“

“Okay, okay!” It would be best if you threw the cloth at him for chortling; such an indecorous personality for someone supposedly older than you. “You’re insufferable.”

“Right back at you,” he whispers to your ear and kisses your cheek. You sigh softly from his lips, resting your head on his shoulder while he pecks your chin. The hand in the water finds your thigh to grope and massage, and you moan at the touch and unwind.

Tranquility fills the cozy space between you two as the silence settles in, the humid air comforting to your nose and eyes, and the drip of the faucet plucking into the tub water is a soothing sound to cajole you into a dormant plane. 

However, even when relaxing, it doesn’t stop the bothersome feeling of asking Toji something. And where better than with you in his secure embrace? “Toji,” his name has him open an eye to look your way. “You don’t think I’m…weird, don’t you?”

He raises a brow. “Explain.”

“Like, don’t you find it weird that me, your partner, indulges in hobbies that are…you know, like that,” now your eyes trail away from his gaze. “Writing about fictional fantasies and such, looking up erotic material and stuff…”

A few seconds fly as he scoffs. “Baby, I’ve been lookin’ at porn way before I met you—“

“Th–That’s not what I meant??”

“Besides, it’s nothing more than just writin’ shit that doesn’t exist. Hmm, if anything, now I know y’re just as big of a pervert as I am.”

Anxiousness transitions to peeve. “You are so—“

“Do you like what you do?” 

The question takes you aback; the immediate serious tone switch wasn’t expected. “…I..yeah.”

“Are ya hurtin’ anyone?”

“No…at least I don’t want to.”

“Are ya hurtin’ y’reself?” You see what he’s doing, the glint shining from his viridian orb.

“No. I…like this hobby.”

Finally, a small smile contorts that scar of his. “Then I don’t mind it. It’s what ya like to do, so do whatever, sweetie.” He comes to kiss your nose and rest his forehead with yours. “I like ya bein’ a lil’ weird anyway.”

“Jackass…” And there you go, falling in love with him again. You cup his cheek, kiss the other, and repose onto his shoulder with a blissful sigh. 

“Now,” you blink back to him. “Can’t lie, think you gotta start callin’ me ‘Daddy’ from now on,” like a scratched record, your heart stops, especially with his mischievous smirk. “Where can I read the rest of y’r stuff at?”

“That’s it,” you ignore his annoying bark of laughter as you try to squirm out of his hold. “Let me out of here, get me out of this fucking tub.”

“Haha, hey, quit it; y’re spillin’ the water!”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi morgera + dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[heartless-tate]

Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k. |. Part two

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed  as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought  four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than  you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙

[kamaluhkhan]

THE GRUDGE (or: the 7 things luke castellan hated about you)

read part two GET HIM BACK! (or: the 7 reasons you want revenge on luke castellan)

pairing: luke castellan x child of nemesis!reader (gender not specified)

word count: 8.5k

summary: luke hated your guts. he really did. he just hoped that no one could tell how, even after all this, you're still everything to him.

warnings/disclaimer: luke's POV. spoilers for the lightning thief and season 1 of pjo. some heated make-out sessions but no actual smut - MDNI / 18+. mentions of blood + death + alcohol. luke is 19 during tlt but i wrote this with him + reader being 21 by the end of this (this is important for the next part lol). anyways, luke + reader share clothes and lots of intense emotions they maybe possibly don't process in the best way. lots of ANGST - it's a greek tragedy fr!

author's note: welcome to my new hyperfixation! this fic is LONG but i hope she's worth it ♡

♪: the grudge by olivia rodrigo

(i. you have a sharp tongue)

fourteen year old luke was overwhelmed when he first stepped into the hermes cabin. it was loud and overcrowded and no one really seemed to care that they had a new cabinmate. the head counselor showed luke to an empty bed at the back, told him to get settled in, and left without another word. luke dropped his backpack before collapsing on the mattress. it was so thin that he could feel the springs dig into his back.

"you'll get used to it."

luke sat up to see you climbing through the window. 

you had a band-aid stuck on your chin, chipped nail polish the color of blackberries, and leather combat boots that looked way too heavy to be wearing in the heat of summer. 

“the shitty mattress?”

“i meant the whole chaos of cabin 11, and the way things work around here in general. if you can get used to the shitty mattress, all power to you.” 

your tone was friendly enough, playful even. you smiled at him so comfortably it made luke nauseous. 

“good to know.” he tried to smile back at you, but his heart wasn’t in it. “i’m luke, by the way.”

“yeah, i know. i’m —”

“y/n!”

you seemed entirely unfazed as the blond who called your name stormed over to you. you rolled your eyes, something only luke could notice, before turning to her.

“someone stole my candy.”

“i’m very sorry to hear that, maddy. gotta be careful around here.” your voice dripped like poisoned honey, deceptively innocent and sweet.

maddy was not having it. she huffed at you. “it was you, wasn’t it?”

“that depends. did you cheat at poker last night? again?” 

some of the chatter throughout the cabin paused, heads turning to listen in. 

“what? n-no!” 

“then you have your answer, maddy.” you exaggerated a sigh, as though you had already won the fight and were annoyed that she came back for more. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i have a new camper to show around.”

chiron had already given them a tour, but luke didn’t protest when you grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the window with you. your hand was warm in his as you dragged him along to the corner of the cabin where a poorly made ladder waited for you. 

“come on.” you started climbing, and only stopped to look down when you realized luke wasn’t following you. “best view of camp. trust me.”

a shiver passed through luke. trust didn’t come easy to him. he also didn’t particularly want to return to a stuffy cabin where all he would do was count reasons he did not want to be there.

 so, luke followed you. he sat down next to you on the roof and looked out at the sun shining on his new home, but he couldn't help but be slightly bitter. the gods had gotten all of you into this life of endless danger and battles and monsters, and this was all they had to offer in return: a summer camp. 

it just didn't seem fair. 

there was something else he noticed then. what was it that chiron had said? camp half-blood was supposed to be a safe haven for all demigods. 

“i don’t get it. there are only twelve cabins, but aren’t there, like, a million other gods?”

you straightened your posture then, and turned to luke with a newfound interest. 

“camp half-blood only has cabins representing the twelve olympians. apparently, they’re the only ones important enough to have children worth recognizing, and they can’t even do that half the time,” you explained, impertinence laced throughout your words. it seemed like something you could never quite get off your chest. 

every  demigod knew that the gods didn’t appreciate sarcasm. they  didn’t particularly like being called out on their bullshit, either.

you didn’t seem to care; you even rolled your eyes up at the sky, as if challenging zeus himself. 

“anyways, that’s why the hermes cabin is so crowded. it takes in campers who are unclaimed or whose parent doesn’t have a cabin at camp. like me.”

“so, who’s your godly parent?”

you fiddled with the leather cord on your neck. it held a few clay beads like the other campers, but there was one silver charm he noticed only you wore — scales, by the looks of it. you clutched onto it.

luke realized that, despite your own advice, maybe you resented having to get used to the way things worked around here, and having to hide your resentment. maybe that was worse than having to sleep on an uncomfortable bed for the rest of your life.

"nemesis. goddess of revenge."

"that's....hardcore."

you scoffed and moved on to twisting the silver ring on your index finger. "a lot of people take it that way, and i think it scares them a bit.”

“so that’s why you’re extra nice to new campers, huh?” 

“no, i was just in a good mood today.” you smirked.

“guess i was just lucky, then.”

luke couldn’t help but smile at your laugh — sharp, biting. you nudged your boot against his sneaker, which shifted you closer to him, shoulders practically touching. 

“what people don’t understand is that it's more about balance, you know? you do good things, and good things happen to you. at least, they should. you do bad things and….” you pulled out an outrageously big bag of candy, dropped it between you and luke, and winked at him. “you face the consequences.” 

“that makes sense.” luke leaned over to grab a handful of gummy bears. “like karma.”

“yeah. exactly.” 

you bit the head off a red bear, both of you chewing in silence before you added:

“by the way, i’m sorry about your friend.” you swallowed and caught luke’s gaze. 

chiron warned him that word would travel fast around camp about what happened to thalia, and luke had prepared himself for anything — anything but your reaction. there was no pity in your eyes; instead, there was a hint of rage, as though thalia had been your friend, too. 

“she deserved more.” 

luke’s eyes caught the glint of a knife strapped to your belt. he took another handful of the candy you stole, and he thought about the fire and fearlessness behind your words, and, despite everything, it felt right to be with you then and there. 

“yeah,” he finally whispered back. “she did.”

we all do. 

neither of you said those words, but the suggestion was there, and it felt like a promise. 

(ii. you hold on to every stupid, little detail)

“slow down, tiger.” 

your voice echoed throughout the arena, and if luke had been fighting a real opponent, it might have gotten him killed. instead, he just stopped mid-swing, sparing another straw dummy from losing its arm. 

“left hand,” you noted as you walked past him towards a bench. “you, my friend, are in need of a break.”

luke loosened the grip on his sword. the only time luke fought with his non-dominant hand was when he had overworked the other. he must have switched an hour ago, but judging by how heavy his arm felt, it could have very well been two.  

his curls were stuck to his forehead with sweat, his shirt soaked through. he could feel a dull pain behind his eyes, and luke was worried that if he stopped to catch his breath, he would pass out. or, even worse, have to face the reality of the shitty news he’d gotten early that day. 

“come sit with me,” you urged. “you’re exhausted, tiger.” 

luke bristled at your nickname for him. 

sure, luke loved that there was something only you called him, a secret kept between you in plain sight, but it was also a reminder that it was harder to hide behind the hero act when you were around.

everyone else at camp figured the nickname was a playful attempt at calling him strong and charismatic. the truth was that luke once told you that his favorite cereal as a kid was frosted flakes and that he would dream of playing sports as well as tony the tiger. for better or for worse, like most things, you wouldn’t let it go. 

case in point: if it was anybody other than you trying to get him to take a break, luke could have just brushed them off with a charming smile and continued swordfighting until his arms fell off, but in the two years since meeting you, luke had never met anyone as stubborn and convincing. like him, it seemed you were willing to fight and shed blood to get your way. luke was never really in the mood to make you bleed, even when feeling like he could burn the entire world down, so he usually gave in to your demands.  

as soon as he sat down next to you, you handed him an orange flavored energy drink — his favorite. anything other than water was hard to come by at camp without the enchanted goblets in the dining pavilion, or the right connection in the hermes cabin. he ran out of his stash the other day, but you must have noticed and gotten one of the stoll brothers to smuggle more in. 

“thanks,” luke said, ignoring the jolt of electricity that passed through him when your fingers brushed together briefly. 

 the two of you looked out at the sword arena, and all the straw dummies that luke had destroyed. you wait for him to take three big gulps of his drink before speaking again. 

“i guess chiron and your dad decided you weren’t ready for a quest.”

luke exhaled sharply. “how did you —”

“the only time you’d skip out on capture the flag is if something really shitty happened.” you looked down at luke’s clenched fists, and that seemed to be all the confirmation you needed. “you promised annabeth you'd be there, and it's not like you to let her down."

fuck. he had completely forgotten that tonight was annabeth's first time as team captain. this entire week, she had been prepping a winning strategy. it wasn’t like annabeth needed him to win, but luke was her big brother, and he should have been there. you were right — he had let her down. 

the realization made luke’s day go from bad to worse. 

"i told her you were helping a new camper with an emergency. she didn't believe it, but she adjusted her strategy and we still won.”

“well, thank the gods everything worked in the end,” luke grumbled. 

“don’t thank the gods,” you quipped. “thank annabeth chase for her brilliant mind, and me for covering for your sorry ass.”

when luke didn’t indulge in your usual playful banter, you moved closer to him and brushed some curls away from his eyes. your skin warmed his forehead, and the small gesture made him feel better than he had all day.

“look, i’m not going to give you some bullshit inspirational speech about how the gods don’t get to define what a hero is, or how you don’t need a quest to prove that you’re worthy of being one. we’ve each been through that before, and i have a feeling this won’t be our last time, either.”

“then why are you here?” the question came out harsher than luke had intended it to.

“because she’s trying her best to hide it, but annabeth is really hurt that you didn’t show up for the game. i figured the least you could do is suck it up, come to the campfire, and make her those signature luke castellan s’mores. you could probably use one, too, since you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” 

you were right, again. luke was exhausted, he was furious, but most of all, he was starving.  

later that night, luke sat next to annabeth and vowed to make her as many s’mores as she wanted. you’d gone to sit with the hephaestus kids, trying to convince beckendorf and nyssa to join your cabin’s post-campfire party at the beach, even though they had to work in the forges early the next morning. 

when chiron made his weekly speech, congratulating the winners of capture the flag and thanking the gods for keeping everyone safe, you and luke caught each other’s gaze from across the fire. you rolled your eyes and luke bit back a smile as you turned back to beckendorf. he noticed your knees were practically touching. did you sit that close to everyone? 

luke was looking at you for so long that the marshmallow he was roasting fell into the fire, despite annabeth’s warnings. she handed him another one. 

"you should tell her how you feel," annabeth said. "stop being a coward." 

whether it was the smell of burnt sugar, the heat of the fire, or annabeth’s comment, luke started to feel dizzy. he did his best to shake it off, asking annabeth for a play-by-play of her strategy earlier that night, but he couldn’t quite get rid of the thought of you. 

(iii. you don't care if your clothes are stained with blood)

“i just….i can’t fucking believe you, luke.”

“i don’t get why you’re so upset — you’ve never cared about quests before.”

luke was hoping to break the news to you after capture the flag. unfortunately for him, word travels fast around camp. 

annabeth had the two of you scouting the east side for the flag, while she and some other athena kids took the west. you hadn’t found anything so far, which meant that you’d spent the better part of an hour bickering over luke’s choice of companions for his quest. a choice that included charles beckendorf and chris rodriguez, and purposefully did not include you, much to your fury.  

before you could continue arguing, luke heard the sound of footsteps approaching. he looked over to you, and you already had your shield and sword at the ready. 

a few red defenders emerged from the trees. one charged at luke, but you stepped in so he could deal with the other two. one of his opponents went down fairly easily, but the other put up much more of a fight. metal clashed behind him as you kept fighting as well. you might not have been as skilled a swordfighter as luke, but he knew that you could hold your own, at least until he was finished with the person in front of him. 

luke parried his opponent’s strike, causing them to take a step closer. he was preparing to disarm them, just as he heard you yelp and stumble to the ground. it only took a millisecond of his attention, but it gave his opponent the opportunity to elbow him in the face. luke felt a crack upon impact, and pain radiated from his nose; he powered through. 

he had to finish this fight, and he had to do it fast. you needed him. 

his ears were ringing as he finally knocked over his opponent, kicking away their sword and keeping his foot on their chest. luke turned around to see you having turned the tides, the blade of your sword dangerously close to your opponent’s neck.

you locked eyes with luke, and you both understood — it was time to go. the two of you ran through the forest, as far away as you could before having to stop and catch your breath.

luke removed his helmet to get some air, and dropped his weapons. you did the same. you looked at him, brows furrowed.

“your nose.”

luke licked his lips, tasting blood. the triumph of winning that last fight overshadowed the ache of his potentially broken nose. in fact, he liked the image of a ruthless warrior emerging from the glory and gore of battle, that even though he did not bleed ichor like a god, he still had power. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t look impressed. instead, you stepped forward and offered the sleeve of your shirt to wipe away the blood. 

“you don’t have to —”

“i know you think you’re a badass walking around all broken and bloody, but you shouldn’t deny your admirers your pretty face,” you teased. 

it was no secret that luke had numerous admirers around camp, a fact you loved to tease him about. he was sure that you relished in how flustered that made him. all you had to call him was pretty boy, and luke could be reduced to a blushing mess. 

it was pathetic how much power you had over him.

“besides, i wouldn’t have gotten out of that last fight if you hadn’t taught me that disarming technique earlier. i owe you. it’s what we do. we take care of each other, right?”

he couldn’t argue with that.

a few moments of silence passed as you cleaned his face. something shifted as you worked, the flirtatious grin fading away. when you pulled away, your sleeve was stained a dark crimson. 

“just tell me honestly,” you finally murmured. “why don't you want me to join your quest?” 

luke was genuinely taken aback by the softness of your voice, now devoid of its usual fire. you wouldn’t meet luke’s eyes, but being that close to you, he noticed they were slightly glazed over.

he had expected you to be angry at his decision. he expected you to yell and argue and try to change his mind. luke hadn’t expected you to be so hurt. so broken. 

he hadn’t planned on it, but luke decided to tell you the truth then.

“look, karma, if you come with me, my heart wouldn’t fully be in the quest. i’d be so caught up in….well, you.”

a pause.

“is that a bad thing?”

“not usually, no.” 

you smirked a little at that, and luke’s heart skipped a beat. it also made his decision even clearer. 

“but i need to be focused for this. i need….” he let out a deep sigh. “i need to prove myself. this is my first real chance, and i can’t fuck it up.”

you met his gaze and smiled brightly at him, your signature spark of confidence returning.  

“you won’t.”

you reached a hand up to play with his necklace. luke hadn’t noticed how close you’d gotten until your fingers started tracing over those four clay beads. it made his entire body burst into flames.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a while. and, aphrodite save me, it might be really stupid, but —”

luke took a lucky guess as to where you were going, and crashed his lips against yours. aphrodite knows that he'd been wanting to do that for a while, too. 

he often got drunk on the adrenaline of battle, the glory of winning, but nothing was quite like the rush of kissing you for the first time. 

it was messy and urgent, both of you aware that, at any moment, you could be interrupted. your noses were bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. the metallic tang of blood lingered on luke’s tongue, but neither of you seemed to care. you even bit his lip slightly, as if you wanted more. armor sat heavy and cold between your chests, preventing you from getting closer. luke had never loathed the protective gear more. 

he made up for it by lodging one hand underneath your jaw, and snaking the other beneath the celestial bronze, beneath the cotton of your shirt, admiring how your pulse quickened under his thumb when he grazed the soft skin of your stomach. you tangled your hands into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp. he groaned and felt you smirk against his lips. 

luke had kissed a few people before, sure, but never like this: like a knife to the gut, and if you pulled away, luke would surely bleed out and die. 

it wouldn’t be a hero’s death, in the traditional sense, but at least he’d die happy. 

how many heroes could claim that?

when luke ran out of air, feeling like his lungs were burning, he had to pull away. 

you glanced down at luke’s kiss-bitten lips, then back to his eyes. luke flushed under the intensity of your gaze. 

“just promise me something, tiger,” you whispered, voice hoarse. 

“anything.”

“come back alive.”

luke leaned forward and placed another kiss on your lips, this one much gentler than before.

“i promise.”

(iv. you love like a scar that won't fade)

the nightmares were getting worse. 

luke woke up in a cold sweat, taking gulps of air in an attempt to steady his breathing.

“luke.” 

your whisper did little to quell the pit of dread growing in his stomach, but it did enough to bring him back down to reality. 

he was at camp half-blood (fuck the gods of olympus), in the hermes cabin (fuck you, dad), in a bed next to yours (fuck, if he could tell you what — who — was going through his head, he would).

“i’m…i’m fine,” he murmured back, voice catching slightly on the lie. 

like clockwork, you shifted from your bed to his, slipping under the covers. it didn’t matter that it was a hot summer night, and the minute your legs touched his, he could feel himself starting to overheat. 

your thumb brushed over the thick edge of his scar, up his cheekbone to the corner of his eye. it had been a year, living with this reminder. a reminder that he had failed, just as much as his father and the olympians had failed him. 

luke tried to pretend that he didn’t come back from his quest as a shell of who he once was. after all, it was meant to be his shining moment as a demigod, meant to gain him all the glory and father’s praise he once wished for. 

what a fucking joke.

every morning, luke would crawl into a different skin. he welcomed new campers and taught sword-fighting. he laughed with chris and his other siblings and strategized with annabeth for capture the flag. he would be the easy-going, charming, skillful senior counselor who respected the gods and honored them in everything he did. 

again: a fucking joke.

nights were different, though, with you so close to him, you who could always see right through him.

every night, luke was a fourteen-year old boy again, with so much rage and resentment he didn't know what to do with it. 

of course, you were always you - a bleeding heart underneath layers of armor. you didn't care about fate, or the gods, or the titans. you cared about justice, you cared about what was right and fair. 

most of all, you cared about luke.

“you were screaming,” you told him, voice barely cutting through the soft snores and sleeptalkings of your other cabinmates. 

“sorry,” he managed. looking at you in the dull moonlight, luke noticed the deep shadows under your eyes. 

“it’s fine. you just….you scared me, tiger.” 

your hand still rested on his cheek, and for a second, luke hoped you would kiss him, but you didn’t. instead, you told him to try and get some sleep, and sank further into his bed before closing your eyes. 

for the hundredth night in a row, luke hoped you couldn’t hear his heart hammering in his chest as you fell asleep next to him.

since coming back from his quest, luke didn’t have it in him to suggest being anything other than friends, and you didn’t push it. there had been a few....moments between you, sure, but nothing more.

luke thought you might have changed your mind, because who would want to be with a bitter, worthless, wannabe hero? then again, that voice haunting his dreams…. luke could change that. 

but, at what cost?

(v. you protect people as ruthlessly as a starving dog)

luke could hear you talking to percy jackson outside. though he couldn’t quite determine what was being said, as much as he tried.

you entered the bathroom and instantly caught luke’s eyes in the mirror. you were wearing your faded pyjama shorts with cartoon crows, and a flannel shirt that luke had a sneaking suspicion might have been his. you smiled at him before setting up at the counter, one sink between you. 

“what was that about?” luke asked after spitting out a mouthful of minty toothpaste.

“oh, nothing.” you were searching through your toiletry bag for something, and seemed to come up short. “hey, do you have any extra dental floss?”

luke threw some over to you. as you effortlessly caught it, he noticed your knuckles, bruised and bloodied.

“what happened?” 

you finished flossing and briefly examined your hands before pulling out your toothbrush. 

“it’s not a big deal,” you assured. “some ares kids were picking on percy, and then they started pushing him around, like, really pushing him around, so….” 

“....you decided to send them to the infirmary.”

you squeezed some toothpaste on your brush before continuing. “i don’t need you to lecture me about how i shouldn’t be fighting with other campers because i’ve been here longer and i should be a good role model. you know what a good role model does? not let kids beat up other kids and think the worst punishment they’ll get is no dessert for a week.”

luke watched carefully as you jammed the toothbrush in your mouth and brushed with such force, he was worried your teeth might dislodge. he knew that you would shed blood for someone you loved, and that you didn’t particularly care if you had to break rules in doing so, because you believed that what was written was not necessarily what was right. 

in fact, luke loved that about you.

no, it wasn’t the fighting that luke cared about — it was who you were fighting for. 

percy was a good kid, he really was. luke just didn’t want you getting attached. 

“i wasn’t going to lecture you. i’m guessing chiron already did?” 

you nodded and spat out what looked like a combination of toothpaste and blood. you rinsed your mouth until the water lost its pinkish hue. once you were done, luke continued his train of thought.

“i just didn’t realize you cared so much about him.”

“about percy?” 

luke could tell that he didn’t have your full attention. you were packing your stuff back up, accidentally tossing luke’s dental floss into your bag, but he had more pressing matters to deal with.

“yeah. the kid’s only been at camp for three days, and you’re already acting like his guard dog.”

you finally turned to luke and glared at him. 

“maybe. but percy’s sweet and he doesn’t seem like the type to put up with bullshit. he’s been through a lot, and annabeth seems to like him, too. as far as i’m concerned, percy’s one of us, and i’m not going to let anyone push him around.”

luke raised an eyebrow at you. “he’s sweet?”

“yeah. like, just now, he gave me some blue raspberry jelly beans as a thank you. said his mom used to work at a candy store. he also wanted me to apologize to you for him. he feels bad about beating you in sword-fighting earlier.” 

you scoffed, like you resented luke for having to apologize to him on percy’s behalf. you definitely did not appreciate that guard dog comment. luke clenched his jaw, seething over what you had just said. 

satisfied with his reaction, you gave luke that nauseating smile of yours, tilted your head towards the exit. a truce, because you never liked to fight with luke for too long, and a order, because you knew luke would always follow. 

the two of you began walking back to your cabin in the warm mid-june air. 

“i wouldn’t say he beat me,” luke huffed. “it was beginner’s luck.”

“sure, tiger. it was beginner’s luck that disarmed the best swordsman we’ve had in the last 300 years.”

you nudged luke’s shoulder with yours, but he recoiled from your touch. 

“are you trying to make me feel worse?” luke tried his best to avoid snapping at you, keeping his tone measured.

“i’m just saying that maybe the kid has natural talent and that doesn’t make you any less talented. there’s no need to get jealous.”

luke resisted the urge to growl at your suggestion. 

to be clear, he was not jealous. it’s just that luke had spent years of blood, sweat, and tears getting to where he was then, and percy jackson had just gotten to camp. 

and, to be even more clear, luke was not jealous of how you were already defending percy with your whole body and your whole heart, the way you did for him. 

by then, you reached the front of the hermes cabin. luke could already hear the commotion of what he would need to deal with as soon as he walked in. the burden of being head counselor, one he approached with an elastic smile that could snap at any moment. 

you tugged on luke’s sleeve before he could open the door. 

“hey. are we okay?”

luke looked down at your fingers grasping the fabric of a sweatshirt he was just realizing was yours. your nails were painted a dark red, now chipped after a week of wear. you had begged luke to paint his nails then, and once again, he gave in. he even started to like the purple you had chosen just for him, so deep it was almost black. the same color you were wearing the first time you and luke met.

he smiled at the memory — a real smile, no plastic — and then smiled back up at you.

“we’re fine, karma.” and he moved to enter the cabin. luke could hear the threat of an argument bubbling up, what sounded like a petty one over a prank gone wrong.

“wait.” you tugged at his (your) sweatshirt once more. “there’s something i wanted to talk to you about, about tomorrow night—”

“annabeth called a meeting during free time.”

“yeah, i know, it’s just —”

“she’ll run through strategy for capture the flag then.”

“one of the aphrodite senior campers asked me to the campfire,” you blurted it out, and luke decided to ignore the sound of a fight breaking out from behind the wooden door.

what in the name of hades were you talking about?

“they asked you out? like…like a….” luke didn’t even want to speak the word, scared it would make it real.

“a date,” you said casually, as if that one word didn’t rip luke’s heart in a million pieces. “i said yes.” an admission that took all those pieces and set them on fire. 

sure, in the seven years since you and luke met, you’d each talked about boys, about girls, about dating and kissing them and going further. but there was something about this one that felt different. something about the way you told him.

“but, listen, i wanted to let you know it’s not —”

“good for you,” was all luke said through gritted teeth before someone started calling his name again, louder and more urgently, and he had to duck inside.  

(vi. you taste like burning cherries and righteous anger)

your team had won capture the flag, of course. the biggest news of the evening, though: percy jackson was the son of the sea god. 

he was a forbidden child, the hero of the great prophecy. 

everything was falling into place. 

all luke should be thinking about is kronos’ plan, and his role in it, and how a world without the gods of olympus was that much more in reach.  

unfortunately, for the time being, he was so consumed by you. 

you, from across the campfire, sporting cutoff denim shorts and fresh wounds from the game earlier. you, who had wrapped your knuckles in gauze, concealing their bruising, fixed the chips in your nail polish and stacked rings on your fingers. (for the record: luke had gifted you the one on your left thumb.) you, with dark lips that whispered too closely and laughed too loudly with a child of aphrodite— jordan li.

you hadn’t so much as looked at luke since congratulating each other on another win. when chiron announced his weekly gratitude to the gods at the start of that night’s campfire, you didn’t punctuate your resentment with your usual eye-roll or biting remark. you were too busy giggling at something jordan said.

luke wanted to be the one to whisper jokes in your ear. he wanted to be the one you left lipstick stains on later, along his jaw and down his neck. he wanted to be the one who kissed the blade mark on your shoulder and the bruises on your knuckles. 

and yet, hours passed and it seemed that the thought of luke had never so much as crossed your mind. he found himself at an after hours party with a few senior campers on the beach. a lethal recipe: a poorly crafted bonfire, some contraband drinks and you in jordan li’s lap, playing with their hair and pretending luke castellan did not exist. 

meanwhile, luke had katie gardner’s full attention. she was talking to him about the strawberry season, potentially leaning a bit too close into luke’s personal space, definitely flirting with him. 

luke could have done a lot worse than the head counselor of the demeter cabin, who always smelled like fresh lavender, whose eyes were the bright green of spring grass and whose lips tasted like golden honey. 

the problem was that luke only wanted you, and his eyes kept sliding over to where you were kissing jordan’s cheek, and he accidentally called the girl he was kissing by your name, which did not make her happy. 

katie threw her drink in his face, told him to wake the fuck up, and walked away.

a chorus of gasps and chuckles erupted as luke stood there, diet coke and vodka seeping into his shirt. the commotion seemed to capture your attention, because you suddenly appeared next to luke, an empty bottle of cherry soda in your hand.

“rough night, tiger?” your voice, that nickname, made luke sick, his face twisting into a frown. you don’t seem to notice or care. instead, you switched your bottle with luke’s and took a sip.

“looks like you were having a pretty good time,” luke practically sneered. “where’s your date?” 

 “they went to bed.” you swallowed a mouthful of beer, grimacing at its bitterness. “gods, this is terrible. you and i should go on the drink run next time — we have better taste.”

“so, are you and jordan like a thing now?”

you gave luke a smile he didn’t quite understand, but made his stomach churn in ways only you could. “would that be a problem?”

“of course not.” he answered way too quickly for that to be true. 

“let’s get out of here,” you suggested. “i think katie is about this close to strangling you with a tree branch.”

luke glanced over your shoulder to where green eyes glared back at him. 

nowhere could luke find it in him to care. he wasn’t even sorry. he just shrugged, took the bottle back from you, took his first sip all night. luke almost gagged (because of course you were right, and the stoll brothers had better fake ids than they had taste) but he suppressed it. 

“no. i’m good.”

biggest lie he ever said. like there wasn’t anger caught in his throat and jealousy swelling between his ribs.

“go find jordan,” he taunted. “kiss them, show them a good time! isn’t that the reason why you got all pretty?”

you narrowed your eyes at him carefully. your nostrils were slightly flared, and luke took a bit of pride in being able to rile you up.

“look, we haven’t really talked lately, and i think we should.”

“go find jordan,” he mocked once more. “almost all the aphrodite kids are here, and i’m sure you can be quiet enough to sneak into their cabin and if you want a quick fu—”

“luke.” you clipped his name, obviously getting to the limit of your patience with him. “if you want to stay here all night and be an asshole, you’re welcome to. you should know, though, that your happy-go-lucky hero mask is starting to crack and i don’t know if you could deal with the fallout from it shattering completely.”

you leaned in close and whispered that last part, very aware of the chattering that stopped and the eyes that watched the pair of you anxiously. luke was usually good at hiding that part of himself who wanted to burn the world down. 

in ways you didn’t realize, you were right: he couldn’t risk revealing it, not now.

not yet. 

“do whatever you want, castellan,” you spat out his last name, the combination of letters foreign in your mouth.“i’m leaving.”

luke should be proud of himself. he waited a whole two seconds before following you like a stray dog. 

luke didn’t know if he’d ever felt you that enraged by him, and it horrified him. it also made him hungry for more. 

“i’m not sure that jordan would want the two of us alone together at night,” he shouted after you, words echoing into the starless sky.

“gods, enough about jordan!” luke practically ran into you with how fast you turned around to confront him. “i was helping them with that stupid aphrodite tradition!”

“you….” luke faltered, all the snark leaving his body. “what?”

luke remembered silena beauregard once explaining the rite of passage to him: to prove themselves, a child of aphrodite had to make someone fall in love with them, and then break their heart.

“why…why would you agree to do that?”

you had reached the dining area by then, and you sat on one of the steps leading to the pavilion. luke stayed a few feet away, looking at you cautiously. 

“jordan and i are already friends, and they figured a fake relationship would be the way to avoid anyone from actually getting hurt in the process.”

“you seemed so…so into it, though,” luke stammered, the memory of you in jordan’s lap, laughter bubbling from your lips, still fresh.

“it’s called acting, dumbass.” the camp didn’t rely on electricity, but there were enough torches around that luke could see you roll your eyes. “anyways, i was trying to give you a heads-up last night, but you wouldn’t listen.” you took a deep breath. “and, honestly, i didn’t push it because….i figured i should test a hypothesis.”

a hypothesis? you’d known annabeth for too long.

“what hypothesis?”

you hesitated. 

“it doesn’t matter. fuck, this was stupid,” you muttered, and without another word, stormed through the dining pavilion, a short cut to the hermes cabin. your footsteps fell heavy against the marble, and luke’s not far behind. 

“what hypothesis?” he asked again.

nothing but rushed footsteps.

“what hypothesis?” luke finally yelled.

third time was the charm, because you stopped in your tracks and faced luke once again. a fire burned in the bronze brazier, where campers were forced to offer up portions of your food to the gods at every meal. its roaring seemed to captivate you, and the flames danced across your face, illuminating all your curves and edges.

“i’m angry at the gods,” you stated. 

this caught luke off guard. from the day the two of you met, luke knew you shared that feeling. you’d gotten quieter with your rage as you’d gotten older. luke supposed he got better at hiding it himself, as well. 

“i’m angry at the gods for letting bad shit happen even if they can stop it, and for building this world in the fucked up way they did. i’m angry at your dad for the way he’s treated you, but — you, luke castellan.” you finally met luke’s eyes with a gaze so sharp, luke almost felt himself bleed. “i’m also angry at you, and not just for your bullshit tonight.” 

your admission felt like a punch to the stomach, and luke was left with no air to breathe.

did you know?

“you haven’t been the same since your quest,” you continued, words slow and deliberate, the way you spoke when you were worried your voice would shake. “and i’ve come to terms with that in the past few years, but you….you’ve never tried to ice me out before. you’ve been acting distant since december, and it’s been driving me insane. do you realize how much i miss my best …..” you swallowed the word friend. “how much i miss you?”

luke hesitated, because what could he say? i know i’ve been distant, but i’ve been busy trying to start a war between the gods. sorry babe! 

would you hate him, if you knew? 

you had to have known that, despite the distance, luke missed you. for tartarus sake, in the last two days, he’d driven himself mad at you calling a fourteen year old boy sweet, and he was about to combust at the image of you dating someone else, with little care as to the collateral damage. 

"you can't just avoid me, makeout with katie fucking gardner, and then….” you trailed off, hiding your face in your hands. whether it was to hide embarrassment or tears, luke wasn’t sure.

a smirk spread across luke’s face at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one jealous at the bonfire that night. it lit luke up with the confidence he needed to not completely fall to his knees in front of you, beg for your forgiveness for everything he’s done.

“why do you care if i make out with katie fucking gardner?” 

as he waited for a response, luke walked towards you until your back hit one of the marble columns. 

“why do you care if i’m with jordan fucking li?” you clenched your jaw and looked right through luke. a clear indication that you wanted him to break down first; it wouldn’t be you who yielded this fight.

“because i want to be the one you’re with.” at that point, luke was so close to you that he swore he could hear your heartbeat. he reached out and played with the hem of your shorts. “why do you care if i make out with katie gardner?”

“because.” you drew in a sharp breath when luke’s fingers brushed underneath the denim, across the warm skin of your thigh. you closed your eyes. “don’t make me say it, tiger.” 

the desperation in your voice made luke want to do unholy things with you, to you. luke knew you didn’t think of him as a saint, and you never expected him to be one. the reality was that you weren’t much better, either. what was essentially an altar to the gods burned bright next to you, but it seemed neither of you had ever cared less about it than in that moment. 

luke would watch olympus fall. he would dethrone the gods and watch their glass castle shatter and find glory in a new world. in the grand scheme of things, he was willing to lose this battle.

in fact, he would have rather betrayed the titan lord himself than waste another second not kissing your lips. 

so, he kissed you, and you kissed him back with such force, such hunger, it was ungodly.

no, you certainly weren’t a saint — but you were divine, in the most brutal, intoxicating way. in the way you shuddered when luke lodged a leg between your thighs; in the way you threaded your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans to bring him closer; in the way the metal of your rings burned through the skin of his hip, right to the bone, which made him shudder, and you smile triumphantly against his jaw.

the more he tasted your smirk flavored by cherry soda and the ashes of nearby flames, the more he felt your feral teeth against his neck and your wicked nails digging into his shoulders, the more you tugged on his curls, the more luke thought: maybe. 

maybe you would give into your seething resentment, live up to those eye-rolls and snarky comments that got you in trouble with chiron, on the edge of hot water with the gods. maybe you would join the titan army. maybe, just maybe, this time, you would follow luke.

and yet — maybe wasn’t enough if it meant he could lose this. luke wouldn’t risk it, not until he kissed every battle scar and bruise on your body, and you did the same to his. 

“wait.”

it was the last thing luke wanted to do, but he complied. he took the opportunity to appreciate the chaos he created: your shirt in disarray, your lipstick a mess, your chest heaving and desperate to catch a breath. 

“i promised jordan that we’d keep up our charade for a week, two at the most. do you think we could keep this…” you tightened your fist around the fabric of his shirt. “a secret until then?”

luke responded by pressing his lips to yours once more, because there were definitely worse secrets to keep.

(vii. you wouldn’t hesitate to make him bleed)

luke had just left percy jackson to die.

he should be leaving camp, now, but he needed to see you one last time. 

the universe works in mysterious ways, because you were out on a run through the forest, and you crossed paths before he even had time to wonder where you were.

“hey, tiger.” you smiled as if this was a regular afternoon. the two of you would teach your afternoon activities, sneak away during dinner so luke could kiss you in that spot that made you gasp. “wanna join me? i was just wrapping up, but i could be convinced to go longer.”

for a second, he was tempted to. very tempted. 

“i don’t have much time.”

you seemed to notice luke’s sullen mood and you dropped your playful demeanor. 

luke explained: the messages from kronos in his dreams, him stealing the lightning bolt and helm of darkness to start a war between the gods and framing percy. the plan to destroy olympus that luke had pledged his life to.

percy was surprised at what luke had done, and luke could imagine that the rest of camp would be, too. luke was the golden boy of camp half-blood, everyone’s big brother. 

you, on the other hand, didn’t express any sense of shock. 

“luke.” you said his name like you weren’t quite sure it was poison. “i’m going to give you five seconds to tell me that you’re joking.”

five seconds of silence passed. you took a few steps back from luke.

“i….i should have told you sooner.”

“yeah,” you scoffed. “you should have. but, you didn’t. did it feel good, having the titan king whispering sweet nothings in your ear? all the lies about how this war is the only way to get the glory you so desperately want? it’s fucking delusional.” 

“it’s not delusional—”

“yes, it is!” you glared at him. “you’re on the wrong side of a war you made the mistake of starting.”

luke straightened his posture, thinking about how hypocritical you were being. 

“isn’t this what you’re all about? revenge, karma. your mom will probably join us, too. don’t you want to see the gods finally get what they deserve?”

“not like this. i can’t believe how desperate you are, to believe that kronos is going to make everything right. it’s pathetic,” you spat. “i’m not saying the gods don’t deserve to be taken down a notch. their fucking obsession with power and glory….it’s sick and twisted, but i don’t think your titan king is any better. i don’t think you are any better.” 

“it’s time that the gods fall. this is the only way, even if it isn’t perfect,” luke countered. his voice was firmer now as he absorbed your anger. your mother was the goddess of revenge, but you clearly didn't understand the sacrifices, pain, and blood that was required to make the world a better place.  

luke just needed to convince you.

“we’ve talked about this for years,” he continued. “nothing is balanced! there’s no justice here, for anyone.  we can build a better world where we don’t have to burn our scraps and throw ourselves at monsters to get attention. we can fight together like we always have. y/n, i love—”

“don’t,” you snapped. “don’t you fucking dare. you should have died on your quest.” your voice laced with venom. one hand gripping the knife you always kept on your belt. “that dragon should have fucking sliced through you and saved us all the trouble.”

something pricked in the back of his throat, down to his stomach.

“you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you promised. “at least you would have died with all of us thinking you’re a hero instead of the traitor you really are.”

you grabbed your knife, took a fighting stance. 

“i’m not going to fight you,” was all luke could say. he noticed your hand tremble, and you tightened the grip on your knife to prevent emotion from slipping through your invisible armor. 

in that moment, you have could slice through luke, and it would hurt less than everything you just said, less than the murderous look you were giving him, like he was just another monster you wouldn’t think twice about sending to tartarus.

luke didn’t even have a chance to unsheathe his sword before you charged at him, but he quickly had you pinned to the ground, the tip of your own knife pointed at you. he hesitated. the blade pressed harder against your cheek than he intended, enough to break the skin and let a few droplets of dark crimson escape. 

“please come with me,” he pleaded. you didn’t answer, but you did seem surprised by the softness of his voice. 

a few moments passed, the celestial bronze still between you. luke waited for you to see his way, to yield to his proposal.

you didn’t. instead, you took advantage of the situation. you wrapped your leg around his and flipped your position. in the process, you regained possession of your knife. without the hesitation that held luke back, you sliced through his cheek, deep. luke bit his lip to suppress a groan, tasting blood. your gaze set his whole body on fire as he waited for your next move. that was when you glanced down at his camp necklace, and the new clay bead added to commemorate this summer.

a turquoise trident.

“percy told me he was on his way to see you,” you realized. “what did you do?”

luke didn’t answer. he knew then that a choice ran through your head. 

and it stung, just a little, watching you sprint away through the trees in a last ditch effort to save percy’s life. 

there was a small, pathetic part of luke that wanted you to choose him, even if it meant you would have plunged the knife into his chest.

[sluttysnowangel666]

His Second Wife - cregan stark x reader (request)

summary: two years following the death of cregan’s first wife, he accepts an undesired marriage proposal to rhaenyra targaryen’s daughter. rhaenyra’s daughter, who had loved cregan the moment she first met him as a young girl, immediately loves and accepts cregan’s first child as her own. yet it is still not enough for cregan to find his own love for his new wife.

cw: mean cregan😓, widow!cregan, targ!reader, loss of virginity(reader), rhaenyra’s daughter, angst to fluff, unrequited love, sex, happy ending

do yall notice i always post a long ass story usually around midnight or later ( i’m unwell)also this is long af soz it was a detailed request and I wanted it to be to a T. this is SOO long. i prolly should have done two parts… oh well @lillithsalvatore hope you enjoy it love ❤️

“How do you feel, my love?” Your mother asked, placing a warm and comforting hand on yours.

You sighed. “Nervous.”

She gave you that warm and sweet smile of hers. “I know. I hope you know this choice was not easy for me to make, as I know this was a hard task for me to place upon you.”

“I know, mother.” You say with forgiveness, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Had it been any other lord I would have surely declined but… Starks are the most honorable among men. I know your union will be blessed by the gods.”

You give her a smile, blindly trusting her words. You had met him once, and you knew he was kind. In fact, he had left a paw shaped imprint on your heart. You thought to yourself no union could be more suitable. You knew he had married once before out of a prior marital alliance, but the marriage had been short lived, lasting only a year before his first wife died in her birthing chambers.

It took more than four moons before you arrived at Winterfell, as if every power in the world was set on preventing it. You were not a superstitious person, so you simply thought all the bad things that happened prior to your marriage was coincidence.

Each time you went to leave, something prevented you. Your mother miscarried your baby sister, Lucerys was killed by Aemond, Daemon went silent at Harrenhall, Rhaena ran away and was lost in the eyrie before revealing she claimed Sheep-stealer.

You arrived in the dead of winter, and the journey had not been kind to you. You got a chill on the way up, causing you to stop at an inn for a few nights, you had came across raiders who killed one of the many men escorting you, and your clothes were ill suited for the weather.

You did eventually arrive at Winterfell thankfully, all in one piece.

You stepped out of the carriage cautiously, eyeing the snowy landscape surrounding you. It went as far as the eye could see. You held your hand out, letting the thick snowflakes fall and melt in your hand.

“My princess.” You turn to see Cregan, walking towards you. He bows, forcing a politeness. “Winterfell is yours.”

You bow in return, “No need for such formalities, Lord Stark. This is your home, and I am honored to have you welcome me here.”

He nods, choosing to say nothing else to you.

“Please show the princess to her chambers.” He says to one of the servants, then immediately turning on his heels to leave. Your jaw falls slightly, surprised at his curt demeanor.

You compose yourself, trying to hide the slight hurt in your features before making your way to your private chambers.

You bathed immediately, welcoming the hot water against your skin. No water could be hot enough for your dragon blood, but what they had drawn up for you would do nicely.

Your wedding was a week after your arrival, the lord having given you time to settle in. You had not seen him much during that week so you chose not to bother him, assuming he was busy with duties.

When you walked down that snowy path to the red weirwood, Cregan stole a glance at you. You looked beautiful, and he felt horribly guilty for thinking it. He felt like what he was doing was betraying her.

You said your vows, swearing your love before the old gods. You smiled at Cregan and he gave you a forced one in return. Guilt wracked his whole body. He felt guilty for you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to give you a union where you were loved, he felt guilty for liking your smile, he felt guilty for forgetting hers.

There was a feast following the ceremony, nothing large due to the pains of winter, but it didn’t bother you. The small gathering felt intimate, compared to southern weddings where lords and ladies travelled from all over the realm to witness it.

It was here you met Cregan’s son, Rickon.

“Hi, little one.” You said. He was only two, a fat little babe who looked just like Cregan.

“Rickon, this is my new wife.” Cregan said. The way he worded it made you twitch, it had sounded so strained. He didn’t even use your name. You told the boy the name he could call you, but he said nothing as he hid behind his father’s leg.

“I apologize.” Cregan said, his voice showing no sign that he actually was sorry.

“It is alright, my lord. He is just a babe. He and I will have time to get to know each other.” You said. Cregan tensed up, suddenly remembering again this union was forever.

“Excuse me, princess.” He said, turning and walking away with Rickon. Your heart sunk a bit. You could start to sense it now, Cregan was not in the slightest invested in your union together. You felt lost, out of place suddenly.

You sat back down at the high table, overwhelmed with nervousness. You bit at your nails and the skin around them, biting until they bled. You missed your mother dearly. Being here, in this room among strangers who didn’t care much for southerners to begin with, made you feel small.

You had sat there for an hour or two, not moving or eating once, save for your cuticles.

Cregan came to you, not noticing your nervous state. If he had noticed, he chose to ignore it. “I’ve put Rickon down… Would you please accompany me to my chambers?”

You looked at him, the nail bed of your thumb resting between your teeth. You nodded, standing and staring at the hall one last time. You locked eyes with a man, who noticed you both about to take your leave.

“Is it time for the bedding ceremony, Lord Stark?” The man asked, erupting a few cheers from the men mostly.

“No!” Cregan nearly barked the order. “There will be no bedding ceremony.”

The men in the crowd shuffled awkwardly at his outburst but accepted.

“Princess.” Cregan said, walking away and not waiting to see if you were following.

You did anyway, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. You had the sense he wanted this to be over with quickly.

He held the door as you both entered his chambers. You took in your surroundings. It was a clean and large kept room with a lit hearth and a large bed. A thought passed your mind, even though you tried to push it down.

Did he share these chambers with her?

Cregan began to take off his armor and furs, again not watching to see if you did the same, only assuming you were. If you weren’t, he didn’t care.

“Um, could you help, my lord?” You asked, referring to the laces of your white wedding dress.

He sighed, walking over to you as you turned your back to him. Your eyes welled with tears, but you tried to hide it.

His hands were gentle with the laces, not tugging at them as you expected him to. He obviously had experience doing this before.

He grew emotional as he undid your dress, but he hid it well. It was a weird sense of deja vu. Your hair looked like hers from the back and he felt like he was back at his first wedding.

You pushed the dress off, revealing the sheer linen soft dress underneath. He hadn’t moved from behind you, trying to maintain his composure. You walked away from him, lying on the bed and biting your nails again.

He finished disrobing besides his briefs, and you stole a glance at his back. It was huge, muscular and scarred.

He walked over to the bed, getting between your legs and pushing up your shift.

“Is this alright with you, princess?” He asks. “We need not consummate this if you are not ready.”

For the first time it seemed like he kinda cared about how you felt. His hand still had a hold of your shift, which was resting on your pelvic bone.

You nodded, “Is it alright with you, Lord Stark?”

He nodded, pushing your shift up the rest of the way to reveal your chest. He wanted to fall on his sword for the way he kept stealing glances at your breasts.

He pushed his briefs down, and you choked on your breath at the reveal of his length.

“Oh, gods.” You mumbled under your breath.

He rubbed himself against your slit, and your heart stilled for a minute. The feeling was foreign and intense.

He gently grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth. You hadn’t even realized you were still doing it, it was starting to become like breathing. A natural, unintentional habit.

Your hands fell to his biceps to steady yourself. You looked at him, but he did not meet your gaze. He instead bowed his head, watching himself enter inside you.

You dug your nails into his arm, gasping in shock. He gently shushed you, telling you it was okay.

“Please, please.” You said, not knowing what you were even pleading for.

“What?” He asked gently, his voice low and almost mimicking of your whining. It sent a shiver up your spine.

He was slow and gentle with you, not in it for any pleasure himself.

You touched his chest and his hair and his arms, and while he didn’t stop you he made no effort to touch you himself. His hands rested beside your head, holding up his weight.

Your hands found his arms again and you moaned softly, feeling your peak building in your stomach. You closed your eyes and pressed your forehead to his head, moaning as you spilled onto him. He closed his eyes as he felt it, and guilt wracked him again.

He gently pulled out of you and stood up, immediately dressing himself into his nightwear. You pushed your shift back down and pulled the linen covers over you, immediately going back to biting your nails at his reaction.

He laid beside you, not facing you and not saying anything.

You said nothing, but it hadn’t gone unnoticed how he intentionally avoided spilling himself into you.

———

It had been 3 months since your arrival to Winterfell, and you had adjusted as well as you could given the circumstances.

You did not often see your lord husband, but you were used to it. He spent a lot of his free time in the crypt where she was. It hurt, but you gave him his peace and he appreciated that you didn’t hover.

“Mummy!”

“Sh, sh, love.” You say as Rickon runs into your chambers.

Cregan did not like when Rickon called you his mother. He’d gotten upset with you a few times over it, and you assured him you would correct Rickon when it happened.

“Mummy.” He repeated. You giggled. pulling him into your lap. You shook your head and tapped his nose, saying, “Nooo. Not mummy.”

“Mummy.” He laughed, and you ran your fingers through his thick brown curls.

“What ever will we do with this mop on your head, my son?”

“He is not your son.” You turned to see Cregan standing in the door way. “And his hair is fine.”

“Apologies, my lord.” You said, curtly. He ignored your attitude.

“Come, Rickon.” He said, beckoning his son.

“No, mummy.” Rickon whined, holding you.

“Go see papa.” You told him, and with your blessing Rickon ran to Cregan.

Cregan gave you a cold stare as he left, and you returned the favor.

You were growing ever so agitated with your husband. He had welcomed you into Winterfell, but not his heart. The only time you both had shared a bed was the night of your wedding, to which Cregan had made sure not to give you an heir.

You had no one. Rickon had you, Cregan had you even if he did not want you, yet you were alone here in Winterfell.

You decided to write to your mother on Dragonstone, requesting for Jacaerys to pick you up on dragon back so you could visit your family and hopefully receive advice. You had left your dragon, Silverwing, at home. You did not want to disrespect the already hesitant northern people, and you did not want Silverwing to be cold or hungry.

That night when you were brushing your hair before bed, there was a knock on your door.

“Come in.” You looked in the mirror and saw Cregan’s half sister, Sara, enter.

“Hi, Sara.” You said. She came up behind you, taking the brush from your hand and slowly combing it through your hair. You two had formed a unique bond, given you were both considered outcasts in Winterfell. You were a southerner, she was a bastard. They were two sides of the same coin here in Winterfell.

“I heard what happened today.” She said, and you hummed mindlessly. “My brother can be a bastard.”

You smiled at her in the mirror. “Is that so?”

She nods. “I wish I knew what to do, Sara.”

“We northerners love hard, princess. We are unwaveringly loyal. The wound of losing Aly is still fresh in my brother’s heart. Give him time. He knows you love Rickon, and that scares him. I don’t know why.”

“Was Aly pretty?” You ask.

“You have a southern beauty we do not see often in the North. Aly was not a beautiful woman, but she was a fierce fighter. That is how history will remember her. She was born fighting, and she died fighting. I know you are a fierce fighter as well, princess. You are the blood of the dragon. Do not let the grief my brother holds make you feel small.” She kisses the back of your head. “Throw a fucking book at his head if he acts like that again.”

You laugh, her joke comforting you. She turns and leaves you alone, your head clouded with thoughts of Aly.

You heard back from Jacaerys within a few days that he would arrive shortly to bring you home. You had not yet told Cregan, as you knew he wouldn’t care anyway.

A few days following the letter from the raven, it was Sara’s name day. Cregan had decided to celebrate with a feast, one bigger than your wedding.

You all sat at the high table, your husband and sister in law drinking heavily. Although Cregan was a big man, the amount of ale he consumed that night seemed enough to kill a horse.

“My princess.” A servant rested her hand on your shoulder. You and Cregan both turned to look at her, and she grew nervous, not expecting Cregan to pay any attention or perhaps she would not have asked the princess the request. “Rickon has had a nightmare and wants no comfort of the maids. He is requesting you by name specifically, princess.”

You turn to look at Cregan for his approval. He gives a quick nod, which you hadn’t expected. Perhaps he only obliged since Rickon had requested you by your name, rather than requesting his “mother.”

You walked with the maid to his chambers, opening the door.

“Mummy.” He said through sniffles. You turned to face the maid.

“I thought he requested me by my name.” You said.

“That is your name, princess… to him.” The maid closed the door.

You turn to face Rickon with a gentle sigh. “You know papa doesn’t like that word.”

“Mummy.” He just says again. You walk to his bed, fitting yourself in to lay with him. He cuddles into your chest, and you play with his hair to help him sleep.

“Say it okay.” He says.

“Hm? What do you mean, child?” You ask.

“She say it okay to call you mummy.”

“Who?”

“Mummy did.”

“No, you have to call me my name, sweet boy.”

“Not you, mummy. My other mummy said it okay.”

“You confuse me, Rickon.”

“Mummy says ignore papa.” You chuckle softly.

“Sleep now, my love.” You say, and he slowly falls asleep while you hum him a soft song.

You rise, tucking him in and giving his head a kiss.

You open his door to return to the feast, and Cregan is there waiting.

You gasp, covering your mouth quickly to not wake Rickon.

“Gods, you scared me!” You whisper/yell at him. He says nothing, his eyes in a glossy and drunken haze.

You close the door, nearly standing chest to chest with him.

“I heard you sing to him.” He says softly. “Where did you learn that song?”

“He taught me it.” You say, as you go to step past him when he stops you.

“Cregan?” You say confused, turning to look up at him.

He takes your cheeks in your hands and slams his lips on yours. You freeze for a second in shock, before immediately returning the kiss. He presses you against the door, and you moan into him as you quickly grow wet with Cregan’s sudden change of behavior.

He moves to press gentle kisses on your neck, biting softly here and there. His fingers dig into your hips, grinding himself into you. You moan softly, trying not to cause too much noise against the door.

“Not here.” You moan. He avoids your eyes, taking your hand and pulling you further down the hall to his chambers. It was only your second time in his room. He lifted you into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall.

You both hadn’t even undressed, but you loved the thrill. Your husband finally wanted you after three long grueling months. He pushed your dress up to your waist as you unlaced his breeches.

He took you there against the wall of his chambers, fucking you so sweetly, fucking you in a way that would surely produce an heir.

Your moans filled the halls, and the servants began to spread word that the lord had finally moved on from his first wife.

He carried you to the bed, placing you along the edge as he stood, fucking you with sloppy and drunken thrusts.

You moaned his name, both of you drawing so close to your peak as your hands rested against his stomach. He leaned closed to you as hand moved beside your head to hold his weight, and the other moved under your lower back to lift you slightly off the bed and pull you more into him. The angle sent you over the edge, crying and moaning his name.

Your moans pushed him over, but his next words made you sick.

“Fuck, Alysanne.” He groaned, burying his head in your neck and spilling his seed into you.

You gasped, not even sure you heard him right.

He kissed your neck a few times and then rolled off you, not noticing the look on your face.

You laid there unmoving, still in your dress which was now damp with sweat, and your thighs now sticky with Cregan.

He fell asleep the second his head hit his pillow, still in his clothes.

You choked back a sob, moving your hand to your mouth so he wouldn’t waken. In reality, you could’ve started screaming and he wouldn’t have woke, or even shuffled.

You exited his chambers, trying not to be sick on the way to yours.

“My sister!” Sara drunkenly yelled as she seen you in the hallway. She took notice of your disheveled dress and hair. “Oh my gods, did you and Cregan just…?”

You ignored her, but she noticed the tears on your face. “Wait, sister what is wrong? What happened?”

You slammed the door in her face, throwing yourself into your pillow and screaming.

—

“Mother would be furious if she knew you were sleeping this well past sunrise.”

You groaned, lifting your head from the pillow to find the voice in the room.

“Jacaerys?” You said, when your eyes landed on him.

“I take it the feast for Sara Snow was a success.” He says, making fun of you. Your hair was sticking to your face, wet with a mixture of tears and drool.

“I guess you could say that.” You said, wiping your hair to the side.

“You’re disgusting.” He says.

“Gods, five minutes you’ve been here and you already frustrate me! Get out!” You say, both of you immediately teasing and arguing like you had never left home.

You push him out of your room.

“Don’t touch me, wench!” He whines, smacking your arms.

“Piss off! Go harass the bloody Lord of Winterfell.”

“I’d rather harass the Lady.” You push him out of your doors, turning and pressing your back to slide down the wall.

You hear him knock again and you rise to your feet, angry. “Jace, I said-“

You don’t finish your sentence, since as you open the door it’s Sara.

“I wanna talk about last night.”

“I don’t.” You say, going to close the door on her before she pushes it back open.

“What happened?” She asks, angry. She closes the door behind her and follows you to the bed. You sit on the edge and rest your elbows on your thighs, burying your face in your hands.

“Did my brother hurt you?” She asks, worried.

“No, no.”

She rests on her knees in front of you, placing her hands on your knees. “Tell me what happened.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your tears, but you cannot. “We had sex.”

“Isn’t that good? What went wrong?”

“He called me Alysanne.” You sob out.

“Oh, no.” She says, moving to sit beside you and wrap her arms around you.

“I cannot stay here no longer, Sara. I am being haunted by Alysanne. I find letters she wrote to Cregan, her clothes, her weapons. Rickon thinks I am her and Cregan wishes I was.”

“I am sorry, princess.” She says, sadly. “I thought I knew my brother better than that… Perhaps, if you talk to him about these past few months things can be different. Just give it a try, yes? You have your brother here now. You can leave if things do not work and the marriage can be annulled.”

You did not even wish to think of that possibility. It would be so shameful for both of your houses. You would do everything in your power to make it work.

You cleaned yourself up and went to Cregan’s chambers, knowing he would be hungover.

And you were right.

You entered his room without knocking, finding him in a bath with a warm rag over his eyes. Three times now you’ve been in his chambers.

“You can set it on the table.” He says, not moving the rag.

“What?”

“Oh.” He says, his voice changing in tone. “I thought you were the maid.”

You say nothing, unsure of where to even begin.

“Can whatever you’ve barged into my chambers for wait until I am done.” He asks, only the question is more of a statement.

“No.” You say, angry. You walk over to him and pull the rag off his eyes. He squints at the brightness, then gagging on the air as if he might be sick. “We’re going to talk, Cregan. We’ve been married for months and I don’t think we’ve ever truly had a conversation once. It is all I am asking. You could at least give me that. You’ve given me the cold shoulder for three months, and I’m tired of it. I’ve helped raise your son, I’ve loved you and I’ve cared for you even when you didn’t want it. You owe this to me.”

He sighs, defeated. “You are right in that, my princess. I apologize. We can talk later, alright?”

“No, Cregan. We will talk now.”

“You wouldn’t rather talk when I am of a clear headspace?”

“No. Now.” You say. He sighs again.

“Say your piece.”

The words left your mind the second he said that. You had this conversation in your head many times before, but now it was here and you could not handle the heat of the moment.

He raised his eyebrow at you, as if you were dumb.

“Oh, do not do that. I thought you Starks were supposed to be the most honorable among men. This whole marriage I have been treated with everything but. You are a disrespectful man, Stark. I am truly sorry about Alysanne-“

“Do not speak to me about my wife, ever!” He yells, pointing at you.

“I am your wife!” You cry out. “You chose me, whether you were ready for another marriage or not! I left my home, my family, my dragon to be with you! If I cannot have your love, is it too much to ask for your fucking respect?!”

He goes quiet for a few moments, “You have always had my respect, princess… and I know I have erred in the way I’ve treated you these past moons. But this marriage is just a duty. Nothing more, nothing less. This marriage is not out of love… so do not expect me to love you back.”

You laugh, dryly. “You called me Alysanne last night… Do you remember that? No… I suppose you were too drunk. You never would have touched or cared for me like that sober.”

He says nothing, but his hands grip the side of the tub and his face is contorted with anger. You rise, hiding any sort of emotion on your face.

“The dead don’t need lovers. Only the living.” You said. He threw his rag at the door as you walked out, not even granting him a second glance.

The memories of last night flooded back to him, and he rested his face in his hands, crying at his behavior. He had let down Aly, his son, and you.

He did care about you, he did love you in his own way. He just didn’t know how to show it. He didn’t want to show it. If he had shown it, he only would have betrayed Aly even more.

You went down to the crypt, somewhere you had never gone before. You had no reason originally, no people to mourn.

You stood in front of her plot, staring at the statue of her. She had been a skinny girl, with long dark hair and ‘plain’ features. You thought she was a beauty in her own way. You saw why Cregan loved her.

You cried. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help him.”

Your hand touched her statue, then you stood and left the crypt.

You said goodbye to Rickon, Sara, and then you left with your brother on dragon back, ready to be home with your true family.

———

“You’re a fucking fool, brother.”

“You think I don’t know that? Gods.” Cregan rested his head in his hands. He had sent every raven in Winterfell to Dragonstone, yet not one had responded in the weeks since you’d left.

“We’ll be lucky if the bloody queen doesn’t declare war on us for you scorning her daughter.”

“I am trying here, Sara! I’ve sent my ravens, I’ve sent men to retrieve her. There is nothing more I can do!”

Sara slammed her hands on the table. “Go and get her your bloody self, Cregan. The trip to Dragonstone will give you plenty of time for reflection.”

Sara turned to leave, and Cregan knew it was his only option of getting you back here. He would go and get you and make things right. He had to.

You had your own time for reflection, riding home with Jacaerys made you realize how much you missed being on dragon back.

Your mother of course welcomed you with open arms, but was wracked with guilt that you and Cregan’s union was not working. You paid it no mind however, spending your days patrolling Dragonstone on Silverwing.

Cregan had taken his horse and a few men to retrieve you from Dragonstone. The trip by horse was long, more than several weeks.

The entire time he rode in silence he thought of you. He thought of your last conversation and the final words you had said to him. The dead don’t need lovers. And you were right. Alysanne would not have wished to see him treat you how he had, she would not have wanted Cregan to spend his time sulking or being angry. He only wished he had realized it before he left.

He loved you. If only it hadn’t taken you leaving for him to realize. You were kind, gentle, beautiful. Traits Alysanne didn’t have but it was what seperated you from her. It had been how he was able to find his own kind of love for you, even when he didn’t consciously realize it yet. His own bitterness from losing Aly had made forget his honor.

Cregan arrived about two moons after you had left. He was aching, frustrated, and desperate by the time he reached Dragonstone.

It was dark, pouring rain, and you were playing with your brothers Viserys and Aegon when he arrived.

“Your Grace!” A knight came into the room shouting. Your mother looked up from her book. “Cregan Stark of Winterfell has arrived and requests an immediate audience with you and the princess.”

Your mother looked at you, and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. Your heart sank and your face went pale, but you nodded.

You met him inside the council chambers with your mother and his men. He was soaked, shivering. You could hear your heart beating in your ears, that was how nervous you were.

“Cregan.” You said, walking towards him and pushing him by his arms to the hearth to warm him up. It was another thing he loved about you, your protective nature, so he said it.

“I love you.”

“Cregan…”

“Love her?” You both looked at your mother, whose face was angry. “You love my daughter?”

“Your Grace.” Cregan said, removing his sword and bending his knee. “I’ve come to beg your forgiveness.”

She walked towards you both. “It is not mine you need to beg for… I sent my only daughter to you, and you spurn her for your dead wife?!”

“Mother!”

“You will not interrupt the Queen when she is speaking.” She commands you. “What do you have to say for yourself, Lord Stark?”

He stands. “I have nothing to say, Your Grace. You are right. My behavior was unacceptable. The princess deserved none of it.”

“Why are you here?” Your mother asks him.

“I’ve come to ask the princess to return home.” Your mother scoffs at him.

She looks at you, then back to him. “You are lucky it is not my decision to make.”

She turns and exits, leaving and commanding his men to wait outside the doors so you both could be alone.

You were even more nervous with just the two of you in there. It is silent for a few moments before you speak.

“Why the sudden change of heart?” You ask Cregan.

“It took you leaving for me to realize I love you.” He says, taking your hands in his. You roll your eyes, taking your hands back and stepping away.

“I can’t believe you.” You say, starting to sob.

“I know, I know.” He steps closer to you again, taking you in his arms as you cry into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“I loved you, Cregan.” You say, crying. “Since I was a girl I loved you. I thought you were different from other men. But, you’re just like the rest.”

Cregan cries into your hair. “I’m so sorry, my princess. I’m so, so sorry.”

You both stand there, holding each other and crying.

“Please come home.” He says. “Let me take you home.”

“Rickon misses his mother, Sara misses her sister… I miss you, you my wife.”

You pull away to look at him, trying to read his normally stoic features. You can see he means it.

“Okay.”

———

You returned to Winterfell on Silverwing, no longer having the strength to remain apart from your dragon.

Cregan had to endure another long and grueling trip back to Winterfell, which you enjoyed knowing he was suffering while you road through the skies.

Rickon had cried tears of joy when you returned, and a week later when Cregan arrived Rickon cried again.

You and Cregan had remained in seperated chambers while you still navigated your marriage, but Cregan made a point to spend every moment of his free time with you.

But you had been keeping a secret from him.

After you returned home to Dragonstone originally, your blood never arrived. The maester determined you were with a babe, which would arrive several moons away in the dead of winter.

Your thick furs and dresses made it easier to hide from Cregan, as you were not ready to tell him.

The babe had complicated things. If you had not been pregnant, you might not have returned to Winterfell when Cregan came for you. But you knew you had a duty, and you believed if Cregan could love you then you could fix your union.

Cregan had indeed put the work in the second he arrived home. He attended to you, conversed with you, ate with you, laughed with you, but gave you the space you needed and gave you the option to be intimate with him when you were ready.

It was strangely like falling in love all over again. You blushed around each other, got nervous and flushed, made each other’s hearts race, shared a first kiss when you were both ready.

Cregan had undoubtedly fallen madly in love with you, and he regretted not taking the time to do it sooner. He couldn’t make up the time he lost being afraid. All he could do now was love you without guilt, love you without fear, love you without shame.

Normally Cregan always knocked on your chamber doors before entering, but for some reason this time he hadn’t. He didn’t know why he didn’t knock, he didn’t know if it happened unconsciously or if he was too busy wrapped up with his thoughts.

Either way, he entered without knocking and by that point the cat was out of the bag.

He said your name, greeting you with a smile, only for it to fall off his face as if it had never been there.

You were in the bath, relaxing in the burning water, but that wasn’t the problem. He’d seen you naked, although it hadn’t been for a few months by this point, but him accidentally invading your privacy wasn’t the problem either.

It was the bump in your belly that was a problem.

Your head turned sharply, covering your chest quickly. “Cregan!”

“Sorry.” He said quickly, turning around to avoid disrespecting you.

“It’s fine.” You said, dropping your arm from your chest. “You just gave me a fright.”

He said nothing for a moment, only continuing to face the wall.

“What is that?” He finally asked. You sighed, stepping out of the tub and into your robe.

You walked up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to face you now, and his eyes fell down to your other hand resting on the small bump in your stomach.

“Perhaps it’s time we talk.”

“You think?” He spits at you, immediately apologizing after. “I’m sorry, princess. I didn’t mean to be cross with you.”

You said nothing, walking over to the seats by the hearth hoping he would follow.

He did, and he sat next to you, his eyes never leaving your belly.

“Can I?” He asked, gesturing to your stomach. You nodded, untying your robe so that you were bare. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to the small bump.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I could have accommodated for you, made sure you were comfortable.”

“Truth be told it’s been hard for me to accept I’m truly with a child.” You say, “The reality had not set in until… well until you just now found out... I am sorry, Cregan. I should not have kept it from you.”

He chokes back a sob. “Feels like just yesterday Alysanne had Rickon.”

“He will be overjoyed to know he will have a little brother or sister.” You tell him. He looks at you, his face full of emotion.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks and before you can even finish nodding your head, you’re already leaning in to kiss him.

“I love you. I love you so much, my wife.” He says in between kisses.

His hand did not move once from your stomach the whole night.

[smileysuh]

real talk

🌙 starring. Mark Lee x afab!Reader

🔮 preview.“You’re Jeno’s roommate, Jeno’s my friend- I know we’ve just met, but I know things about you.” Hyuck explains. “When you were with your last girl, Jeno used to come to the bar and bitch about you never coming out- he’s been wanting you to meet the rest of the boys for a while, but never wanted to invite us over cuz your last girlfriend had some supernatural cootchie-grip hold on you or something- point is, I know you’re a serial monogamist. Two long-term girlfriends. You like the domestic shit, and I get that- but if you want domestic, it’s not our little Miss Sunshine expo girl. She can’t even sleep next to guys she’s fucked- wakes up at five am, and dips out without a word. Trust me on this, dude, you wanna stay far away from that man-eater.”

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, reader has a hard time cumming, oral (f/m receiving), Mark is a MUNCH, deep throating, fingering, masturbation, use of toys/vibrator, dirty talk, praise, Mark is a simp, sex realism, overthinking during sex, mentions of sexual favours in return for affection, a string of bad ex-lovers, breast worship, creampies, aftercare, finger sucking, drunkenness, etc… I pet names: (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy boy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 19.4k

🍭 aus. Restaurant au, line chef!Mark, slow burn, coworkers to lovers, fuck girl who looks like sunshine meets a serial monogamist who looks like a fuckboy, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I wanted to touch on some realism to kick off the year. Not everything is as easy during sex as it appears in fanfic/p*rn, so I wanted to make something that might be more true to the real experience of afabs who overthink and need extra help to cum- I hope maybe this fic can normalize girls who need some extra machine power to get off ;)

One:

Mark has only been working at his new restaurant for two weeks, but he’s already fallen in love with the place. Morning shifts have been good for him.  With the help of his favorite expo girl - who always takes the time to explain small details and things he’s been messing up on - he’s already gotten used to the menu. Every day feels better and better.

“This tuna is looking so good, Mark,” you grin, inspecting the plate. 

When he’d first been hired, the fish he’d cut had come out mangled, but after talking him through it, you’d both realized it had been a knife issue. Sharpening his blade had led to Mark perfecting his slices, and now, he eagerly awaits your praises when he puts his food up in the expo window. 

Mark’s eyes follow you as you dart off toward the bar, the plate of tuna balanced perfectly in your hand. The new chef can’t help the smile that works its way onto his lips, and he leans forward, hand flat on the cutting board station in front of him.

“This tuna is looking so good, Mark,” Hyuck’s annoying voice snaps him out of his trance, and Mark turns to look at the man next to him. “God, can you two make it any more obvious that you’re into each other?”

“She’s just doing her job,” Mark assures the other line chef, but he can feel his skin heating at the idea.

“Sure she is. But she doesn’t compliment my cooking as much as she does yours.” Hyuck crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a sigh as his gaze shifts to the view through the expo line. You’re at the bar now, chatting with the man who you’ve just served. However, you’re taking longer than normal, and you’re smiling a lot too.

“No fucking way,” Hyuck breathes, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes. “That guy is hitting on her.”

“Is he?” Mark also dips his head toward the expo window, eager for a look.

“Yeah, mans just slipped her his number,” Hyuck laughs. “That’s our little Sunshine though, isn’t it? This restaurant is her playground.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asks.

“Just that she’s quite popular,” Hyuck brushes it off as you approach the expo line again. “Did you get a number, sweet thing?”

“Why, you jealous?” You grin, holding up the slip of paper with digits on it. 

“You wish,” Hyuck scoffs, but Mark gets the feeling there’s something else going on between the two of you, something unspoken. He’s still getting used to the dynamic of the restaurant, and in work spaces like this, relationships aren’t uncommon. He wonders what history you have with Hyuck, wonders what chance he has with you- wonders if it’s even a good idea.

Two

“Luna never runs her own food,” Sumi notes, standing with you by the entrance to the restaurant while you watch the tall waitress lean against the expo window. “I know that our new chef is cute, but, damn.”

“She can do what she wants,” you laugh, wiping down menus. “Makes my job easier.”

“You know, it’s kind of felt like you and Mark have some sort of understanding,” Sumi grins, moving close enough that your hips touch by the host station. “He watches you a lot.”

“Does he?” Your gaze moves back to the expo line.

“Uh huh, almost as much as Hyuck does- which, by the way, you sure did a number on him.”

“Hyuck will get over it, he’s a fuck boy,” you wave your hand. “I’m great at attracting that kind of guy.”

“Do you get fuck boy vibes from Mark?” Sumi wonders, tapping her pen against the top of her Ipad thoughtfully.

“He’s definitely cute enough to be a womanizer, don’t you think?”

“Key word being cute,” Sumi points out. “I don’t know, he doesn't give me fuck boy vibes like the other line chefs do.”

“Well, he’s roommates with Jeno, isn’t he?” Your eyes move to the bar. Jeno’s a night bartender, but his close friend, Renjun is working today. “Jeno’s a fuck boy, he got Hyuck and Jaemin jobs here. They’re both fuck boys. It would make sense if Mark was that kind of guy too.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Sumi states, crossing an arm over her chest. “Speaking of men though- whatever happened to that guy who gave you his number the other day? Are you actually considering a date with him?”

“I already had a date with him,” you admit. 

“Yikes, from the way you haven’t mentioned it at all, I’d guess it didn’t go so well?”

“Meh,” you shrug your shoulders. “He won’t be getting a second date.”

“How many first dates have you been on this year?” Sumi asks. “Didn’t you say it was like… a lot?”

“Too many to count,” you giggle. 

“So what’s the deal with that? Like- what’s your type? I know you were seeing Hyuck for a little while, how come that didn’t work?”

“It just didn’t,” you say, looking down at the menus you’ve wiped clean. “I try not to think about my failures too much.”

“Really? But you could learn so much from them,” Sumi frowns. “I mean- look at me and Doyoung. I was never into the more serious types, always went for fuck boys and younger guys- but after some soul searching, I realized I needed someone older who had their shit together.”

“You also have a thing for guys in powerful positions, and Doyoung is literally one of our managers,” you point out.

“Well, I’m still a work in progress,” Sumi winks. “Anyways- think about it. If you look at your dating patterns, you might be surprised by what you find.”

Three

There’s nothing like the air outside after being in a hot kitchen for a few hours. The lunch rush is finally over, and after having a 20 top that ordered an insane amount of food with an even crazier amount of modifications and allergies, Mark is ready to take a massive puff from his vape pen.

He stands by the back exit to the restaurant, looking out at the cars on the street as he takes a long drag. As he inhales, the door behind Mark opens, and he turns to come face-to-face with you.

The shock of seeing you makes him choke a little, and he begins to cough out a large puff of smoke. Mark’s lungs burn, and his skin feels even hotter, enflamed by the embarrassment of you seeing him take a crappy hit when in reality, he’s a vaping veteran. 

“You good?” you ask, reaching out and gently rubbing his back as you step past him.

“Yeah, I, uh-” Mark’s entire body tingles at the physical contact. “Sorry, you just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you grin, stopping in front of him. He notices the way your eyes go to his vape pen, and he immediately holds it out to you.

“Want some?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.” You reach out and accept the sleek black vape. “What’s the flavor?”

“Uh… cotton candy?” God, Mark feels like a fool, especially when you raise a brow at him. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Didn’t peg you as a sweet tooth type,” you grin, bringing the refillable device to your lips. Mark watches you take a drag, focusing on your mouth and the way you look sucking on something- he starts to imagine what you’d look like sucking on something else, something substantially bigger. 

As you exhale, you cough a little, and Mark wonders if you’re doing that to make him feel better about his screw-up a moment ago- or maybe you simply don’t vape often, he’s not too sure. 

“Thanks,” you say, still coughing as you hand the vape back to Mark. Your fingers brush gently as he accepts it from you, and as Mark brings the device to his mouth, he’s extremely aware of the fact that your lips had just been where his now are. 

He wonders if it means anything that you’d be so willing to swap spit like this, even on something as innocent as a vape pen. 

“How long are you here till?” you ask, breaking him from his daze. 

“Started at seven am, eight-hour shift, should be off around three when the night cross-over guys come in,” Mark explains. 

“Any fun plans for tonight?” you continue to press. “It is a Friday after all.”

“No plans, will probably just go home, make some food, and watch Netflix all night… what about you?”

You sigh. “No hot dates, unfortunately. Will probably do the same as you. Do you have any good show recommendations? I’ve been looking for something new.”

“I mean, it depends, what are you into?” Mark asks, eager to hear more about your tastes, your likes and dislikes- he knows so little about you, mostly things related to work. He’s curious about what you do in your downtime, and he’s grateful he has an opportunity like this to get to know you even a little bit better.

As you part your lips to respond, the back door swings open, and Hyuck steps out, already mid-puff of his neon orange vape. 

“Oh,” the line chef grins, exhaling through his nose and flashing a grin, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you respond quickly, and Mark notes the shift in your energy, “I was just leaving actually.”

“See you later,” Mark offers, watching you hurry off. 

“Classic her,” Hyuck sighs, coming to stand next to Mark.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a runner, that one,” Hyuck takes another puff from his vape.

“So you two definitely used to date,” Mark states. The interaction he’s just witnessed verifies his suspicion, and since they’re technically outside of work/the kitchen, Mark feels able to actually discuss this now.

“I don’t know if I’d call it dating,” Hyuck cocks his head to the side, eyes still fixed on you where you’re crossing the street a couple hundred feet away. “Look, do you want real talk? You wanna know about your favorite expo girl?”

“Yeah, I wanna know.” Mark lifts his vape to his lips, readying himself for whatever is about to come out of Hyuck’s mouth.

“I know she looks like sugar and sunshine, but I hate to burst your bubble Mark- she’s a bit of a fuck girl, that one.” 

“It takes one to know one,” Mark points out.

“Touche, but to be fair, I never claimed to be anything other than a guy who likes pussy, and little miss sunshine knew that when we started hooking up a few months ago.” Hyuck lets out another large puff of smoke into the air. “Look, I said I’d give you real talk so here it is. She’s got a lot of expectations. Girl reads those horny romance books-”

“Erotica.”

“Yeah, that’s it, erotica.” Hyuck nods to himself. “Well, she reads erotica, and her ideas about fucking are kind of hard to make real. She’s too in her head all of the time. Apparently - and don’t repeat this anywhere - but apparently no guy she’s fucked has ever made her actually cum. She has this thing where someone told her that if a guy doesn’t make you cum, he doesn’t add to your body count, so allegedly her body count is zero and she’s a virgin, but we both know it’s a lot higher than that.” 

“The whole body count thing doesn’t phase me,” Mark says quietly, although the wheels in his head are spinning.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Hyuck scoffs. “Just listen, if you’re into her, it’s not going to work out. She’s not for beginners like you.”

“Beginners like me?” Mark side eyes the line chef.

“You’re Jeno’s roommate, Jeno’s my friend- I know we’ve just met, but I know things about you.” Hyuck explains. “When you were with your last girl, Jeno used to come to the bar and bitch about you never coming out- he’s been wanting you to meet the rest of the boys for a while, but never wanted to invite us over cuz your last girlfriend had some supernatural cootchie-grip hold on you or something- point is, I know you’re a serial monogamist. Two long-term girlfriends. You like the domestic shit, and I get that- but if you want domestic, it’s not our little Miss Sunshine expo girl. She can’t even sleep next to guys she’s fucked- wakes up at five am, and dips out without a word. Trust me on this, dude, you wanna stay far away from that man-eater.”

Four

“Mark?” you ask, looking at the takeout bowl in front of you.

“Yeah?” he leans forward, lips parting as he waits for your judgment.

“Didn’t they order the spicy yogurt on the side?” You push the rice bowl forward, pointing at the lines of orange tinted cream that cover the veggies. 

“Shit,” Mark cusses, grabbing the chit-paper receipt and scanning it. “There were like, three other modifications, I didn’t even see the yogurt on the side.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “It’s takeout, and there’s pretty much no one in the restaurant, so you have time to make another… besides, I’ll just take this one as my lunch.”

One of the perks of the job is getting to take home the food that’s not correct. You’d been dreading going to the grocery store, your fridge empty of easy meals, but now you don’t have to make the trek, and you’re more than happy about it.

“You know, Mark, you’re my favorite new chef.” He’s also the only new chef, and you’ve been reaping the rewards of minor fuck ups the past two weeks. 

Mark, however, doesn’t seem to note your teasing, and he offers you a genuine smile. “You’re my favorite expo girl.”

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why’s that?”

“You’re really nice about things I mess up,” Mark’s eyes shift to the dragon bowl you’re packing up. “Like, you point things out, and you turn them good. As you said, it’s an easy fix, I have the time, and now you get to eat that.” 

“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, that’s for sure,” you laugh. 

“You’re also pretty happy most days, always makes me happy to come in and see our Little Miss Sunshine.” 

“Jeeze, not you calling me that pet-name too,” you roll your eyes. Hyuck had taken to calling you that a few months ago, and somehow the title had stuck. Mark was the only chef using your real name, but it looks like those days might already be behind you.

“It fits,” Mark assures you. “I think it’s cute.”

“Does it fit because I’m cute?” 

You notice the way Mark immediately swallows thickly, his skin turning a pretty shade of pink. “Uh- I mean, yeah,” his voice cracks, and he fiddles with his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows, “you’re cute-”

“Oh my God-” you stare at his forearms, which are usually covered by his chef coat. “Have you always had all those tattoos?!”

“Did you really never notice these?” Mark looks down at his arms, lifting them so you can see the details.

“I have never noticed them,” you confirm, leaning forward. “Damn, how many tattoos do you have?!”

“A lot?” Mark’s tattoos are patchwork style, all black. They litter his forearms, and you wonder how high up the markings go- you wonder if his chest is covered, or his back- what about his legs?

“I need a tattoo tour,” you insist.

“I mean… I can’t show you all of them-” Mark says sheepishly. 

“Start with that one,” you point at a tattoo of three letters near his inner elbow, “What’s SSG mean?”

“So uh- the first restaurant I worked in, a few of us dishwashers worked our way into the kitchen with no formal training or anything- just started at the bottom, and went up from there. One of us came up with the idea of being the Soapy Suds Gang, like- dishwashers to chefs. Was at that restaurant from the age of fifteen to twenty, and when it closed down cuz the owners just didn’t wanna be in the business anymore, me and all the others got the matching SSG tattoo.”

Mark is adorable. Like, shockingly so. It’s such a stupid yet endearing story- and for some reason, it feels so on-brand for Mark. 

He begins to tell you about a few other tattoos. There’s a shotgun to commemorate his years playing Call of Duty online with friends. A cartoon puppy because apparently his mom never let him get a dog - something about him not being able to handle it if the dog ever died - so when he turned eighteen, he got a dog that could never bite the bullet, etched into his skin with black ink. 

All the marks have meaning, stories that make up the groundwork of Mark’s life. 

“What about that one?” you ask, noting a King of Hearts tattoo that he’d skipped over.

“Oh, uh…” Mark rubs the back of his neck shyly. “My ex-girlfriend wanted a Queen of Hearts tattoo, so I got this one, and… I mean, I don’t regret it, I was with the girl for three years- but, it’s not a tattoo I talk about too often.”

“Three years?” you ask in shock. “You were with your last girlfriend for three years?”

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

“It’s just- I mean,” you lick your lips, leaning in so Mark’s the only one who can hear you, “I hate to say it, Mark, but you look like a total fuck boy.”

“I’m really not,” Mark admits. 

“Even before your last ex?”

“Even before,” the line chef confirms. “I’ve got two ex-girlfriends. The last one ended about a year ago, dated her from age twenty-two to twenty-five. Had a girlfriend from when I was sixteen to twenty-one-”

“So a three-year relationship and a five-year relationship?” 

This gossip keeps getting juicier and juicier. 

“Yeah. The first one moved to another country to teach English, and I’ve never been that into long distance. We tried to make it work, but we agreed the best thing was to let each other go. Then the last girl decided she wanted more from life than some line chef so…” Mark trails off and you feel your heart hurt for him. “Anyways, what about you? How many relationships have you had?”

“A lot more than you,” you answer quickly, although, that’s only if you count one-night stands, flings, and situationships, but you won’t go into those details with Mark right now. “I mean… are you looking for anything right now?”

“What do you mean?” Mark cocks his head to the side.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but… a few of the waitresses are into you,” you whisper.

“Really?” he looks past you at the restaurant, and you see him trail Luna with his eyes. “That’s nice and everything, but waitresses really aren’t my type.”

“Then what’s your type?”

“Expo girls.” 

His words hit you in your chest, and you can feel your pulse quicken immediately.

“I mean-” Mark’s skin has returned to that pretty pink colour. “My first girlfriend- the five-year one, she was the expo girl when I met her- we got close cuz we spent so much time together. I didn’t mean you- I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything- not that I don’t think you’re cute, cuz you’re definitely cute- fuck.”

You watch him, smiling and completely amused. It appears you’d read the new line chef all wrong. He’s not a fuck boy, he’s a lover boy, and you kind of adore that about him.

“I should uh- I need to remake this dragon bowl-” Mark turns away from you, and you watch him scurry off to the fridge to grab vegetables. 

You’re kind of hoping to tease him so more when he returns, but before he does, Doyoung appears from the back, and he waves you over. “It’s been dead for half an hour,” your manager notes, “you’re cut. Head home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Five

Mark hasn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation. All night, he’d had you on his mind- and he’d kind of been hoping to get to talk to you today, but you have the day shift and this is one of his first nights scheduled.

Even so, Mark arrives to work thirty minutes early just on the off chance he’ll catch you, and as he’s waiting outside the backdoor, hitting his vape, his hopes come true.

You step out of the back of the restaurant, looking down at your phone. The jacket you’re wearing today is vibrant in contrast to your all-black uniform, and the comfy sneakers you always put on after your shift in flats are beginning to look a little worn out now that winter is almost over. 

“Hi,” Mark says, drawing your attention.

“Oh,” you put your phone into your pocket, offering him a smile. “Hey- you just starting?”

“In ten minutes or so,” the line chef nods. “I uh- I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Apologize for what?” You cock your head to the side. 

“All of it?” Mark suggests.

You laugh, and the sound does things to Mark that he’ll never be able to express. “Seriously, we’re all good,” you assure him. “I think you’re pretty cute too, so, don’t worry about any of it.”

Mark’s mouth feels dry, and it’s not just from the vaping. He fiddles with the device in his hand, working up the courage to say what’s on his mind. “I was wondering- I mean, it sounds like you’re still on the market and all- so I was thinking, maybe, if you’d like- maybe we can go out sometime, or something- but no pressure.”

Your smile widens, and you step closer to him. “What would going out with you look like?”

“Honestly…” Mark swallows thickly, “it would look more like staying in. Since we both work in a restaurant- or maybe it’s just a ‘me thing’, but I’m not super into drinks as a first date, or even food- I’m a bit of a homebody. I’d love for you to just come over, watch some netflix, talk- that sort of shit.”

You look him up and down, and Mark’s body tenses as he waits for your response.

“That actually sounds pretty nice,” you admit. “Here, give me your hand.”

Mark holds out his palm, watching you pull out a Sharpie from your pocket. You write your phone number across his skin. “Careful,” you say, as you draw the last digit, “Don’t wash this off or anything.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, already planning on taking a picture of it with his phone just in case. 

“I should get going, but yeah- text me when your shift is over and we can figure something out.” 

“You got it,” Mark grins, unable to hold in his excitement any longer. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” 

With one final exchange of eye contact that makes Mark’s heart lurch in his chest, you walk off, the line chef’s eyes following you all the way out of sight. 

As he turns to head inside, Mark bumps into Hyuck. “Don’t go in just yet,” Hyuck insists, “stay out here and vape with me for a minute.”

It’s hard for Mark to focus on anything Hyuck is saying about the afternoon rush, but he manages to nod and make sounds of affirmation while his coworker rants about some party of fifteen that walked in and only ordered appetizers. 

“Mark, you’re not paying attention,” Hyuck sighs.

“Sorry, I’m just kind of-” Mark swallows the lump in his throat, “yeah, I’m distracted.”

“Got a hot date?”

“What?” Mark looks up.

“Someone wrote their digits on your hand,” Hyuck grabs at Mark’s wrist, “let’s see-”

Mark tries his best to pull away, but Hyuck’s already assessing the phone number. After a moment, the younger man lets go, his mouth forming a firm line. “I warned you about her.”

Mark’s surprised that Hyuck - who has the memory of a goldfish most days - clearly recognizes your phone number. 

“I told you she’s not for beginners.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to listen to you,” Mark insists. “And not everything is about fucking. She’s gonna come over, we’re gonna watch movies- nothing has to happen. I just want to know her better.”

“Lover boy,” Hyuck scoffs, “she’s going to eat you up, and spit you back out.”

“And if she does, then that’s my choice,” Mark says firmly. “I know she fucked you over or whatever, but that doesn’t mean anything to me, Hyuck. I’m sorry, but I really don’t care about what happened between the two of you.”

“Ouch, dude.”

“If she’s as bad as you say, then you can say you told me so when this is all over. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Six

“So this is Jeno’s famous fuck pad,” you tease, stepping into Mark’s apartment and looking around. 

“Uh, he doesn’t actually bring girls here that often,” Mark says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “He likes to go to their place, makes it easier to run than kicking a girl out the next morning, you know?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod… you usually fuck guys in their homes for the same reason. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thanks, my ex had a lot to do with the decor and shit.” Now that Mark mentions it, the vibe definitely doesn’t scream ‘boy’, and it especially doesn't scream ‘home of a line chef and bartender.’ 

The cream-colored couch in the living room has pretty sage pillows, there’s a tasteful rug under a circular coffee table. On the table are three candles varying in size, as well as a design book that you’d bet has never been opened or looked at in detail by the men who live here.

It’s a comfortable home, but you wonder what it feels like for Mark to live in a space that constantly reminds him of an ex who ditched him for not having his own shit together.

“I didn’t realize Jeno was a tidy guy,” you note, thinking back to the line of dirty cups he always allows to build up in the bar dish area. 

“He’s not, but I am.” Mark enters the living room, and he takes a seat on the couch, kicking his legs up onto a small puff stool next to the coffee table. “I guess when you work on the line, you’re used to doing little clean-up jobs to keep everything smooth. I don’t mind moving two or three beer cans to the sink every day if it means there aren’t any piles building.” 

So he’s a sexy line chef, with tattoos, who likes long-term relationships, and also cleans up his home? Mark really is a catch amongst flounders.

“Are you going to come sit?” Mark asks, noting the way you stand at the edge of the room. “Or, shit, should I offer you a drink first? We’ve got beer, or I could make you a cocktail or something-”

“I’m good, just… getting used to this.” 

It feels kind of odd to be with Mark in a casual setting. You’ve only ever seen him in a professional manner, with an expo station between you both- now, Mark is right in front of you, and as you sit on the couch next to him, you’re hyper-aware of the way your thighs almost touch.

“So… Netflix?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mark grabs the remote, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed up so you can see his forearms. 

“You still haven’t given me a full tattoo tour,” you tease, reaching out to gently trace the puppy etched against his skin.

“Maybe that’s a date number two sort of thing,” Mark suggests, tugging the fabric down to cover his skin.

Your grin widens. “Do I make you nervous, puppy boy?” 

“Definitely,” he lets out a shy laugh, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob with the effort of swallowing. “So uh… what do you wanna watch?”

You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the couch. “Surprise me.”

“Well, there’s this anime I’ve been wanting to get into-” Mark finds the show in his ‘to watch’ list.

“Let's do it.”

“Really? You’re down?”

“Uh huh, I’m not that picky,” you nod, offering him a smile.

“It can be…” he starts the first episode, “like- if you wanna keep doing this sort of thing, it could be our show.”

“That actually sounds nice,” you admit. You suppose it shouldn’t be a shock that Mark is thinking long term- you do work together after all, but when you’d been seeing Hyuck, every day was a question of longevity. Would he call? Would he not call?

Hyuck never talked in definitives. He never made promises. The only true thing you could count on was seeing him at work three of five days of the week when your schedules aligned, and he never locked himself in for any more than that. 

“Should I-” Mark licks his lips, “I mean, finding a show was way easier than I thought it would be. Do you want a drink? I’ve got chips?”

“I’m okay, but if you want something, you should grab it.”

“I’m good if you’re good,” Mark mutters, leaning back against the couch. Your shoulders are touching, and you’re already finding it difficult to focus on the tv screen as the anime begins to play.

You’re aware of each breath, each slight shift of Mark’s body. “Are you comfortable?” he asks after a short while.

“I mean, we could probably find a more comfortable position than this one,” you note. 

“Like… do you wanna cuddle?”

“If you want to, I’d be up for that.”

“Okay, one sec,” Mark turns, grabbing at the back cushion of the couch. He tosses it to the side. “I can big spoon you.”

In under a minute, Mark is settling behind you, pillows are adjusted, and a gentle hand finds your hip. You wiggle slightly, trying to get snug against the line chef’s chest. 

“Is this good?” he asks, his breath ghosting by your ear.

“It’s nice, but let me just…” you grab his hand, threading your fingers and bringing it up to your chest, so you’re truly wrapped in his embrace. You can feel his heart against your spine, and you can hear the way his breath catches. “That’s better,” you let out a sigh of relief. 

The anime is fun, but you’re much too focused on Mark. Something tells you he’s quite focused on you as well, and finally, your patience snaps. You roll onto your back, looking up at him.

“You good?” he prompts.

“Uh huh. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shrug. “I guess maybe I’m just wondering what work is going to be like tomorrow.”

“Hopefully busy.”

You laugh at how innocent Mark can be. “I mean in terms of cuddling with you tonight, then working together in the morning.”

“I mean… how was it with Hyuck when you two were seeing each other?” 

Your heart clenches. “Oh… he uh… he told you about that, huh?”

“Mentioned it once or twice.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“For the most part,” Mark nods. “But just so you know- I don’t take everything Hyuck says seriously. You two had something going on, but every relationship is different. I’m sure you have your own side to the story. I know you’re a good person - that’s what my heart tells me at least - so that’s what I’m going off of.”

You stare up at the line chef. The man you’d pegged as a fuck boy, who is turning out to be the farthest thing from a womanizer that you’ve ever met.

You can’t help but reach up and cup his face. There aren’t words that come to mind, but you hope your expression shows your gratitude for his kindness.

Mark’s gaze dips to your mouth, and you watch the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on his slightly. “So no pressure or anything,” he says, voice cracking, “but uh… can I kiss you?”

“You can kiss me,” you confirm, staying still and waiting for the precious man to make his move. Part of you is scared to take control- you’re worried about scaring Mark off, like you’d scare off a wild bird with one wrong muscle twitch. 

You’re still cupping his face, and Mark mirrors the act, gently cupping your cheek. He looks down at you, searching your eyes for a moment. You wonder if he’s looking for any hesitation, any sign that you regret your affirmative answer. Then he looks at your lips, and you can see some of the tension leave his body.

In fact, you see the exact moment Mark decides to give in to his desires. His lips part ever so slightly, his brown eyes shyly meeting your own as he begins to move in closer-

As his mouth presses to your own, you realize this might be the softest kiss a man has ever bestowed upon you. He’s not trying to shove his tongue down your throat- not biting at your lip and asking for entrance. It’s a simple brush of lips on lips, and it leaves you wanting more.

Your hand finds the back of his neck, and you drag him closer, letting out a small mewl. You capture his bottom lip between your own, suckling on it gently-

Mark pulls away, and your eyes open. You’re disappointed, but when you notice Mark breathing heavily, your annoyance dissipates.

“Was that okay?” you ask, worrying that maybe you’d been going too fast for the soft man.

“Yeah- better than okay,” he assures you. 

“Can we… can you kiss me again?”

“Uh huh,” he nods, leaning back down to press his lips against your own. His hand finds your hip, and you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss is just as gentle as the first, but the passion begins to burn brighter with each passing second.

No one has ever kissed you like this.

You can’t explain it- but in a matter of moments, your attraction to Mark has grown tenfold. 

When he breaks away from you for a second time, you’re both breathing heavily. You open your eyes to stare up at the pretty line chef, watching him swallow thickly.

 “Should we uh… should we keep paying attention to the show?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “Yeah, we should.” You roll onto your side again, and Mark settles against your back. He tucks you closer, his fingers threading through yours. 

It’s impossible to focus now, and you begin to wiggle slightly, pressing your ass back against the front of his jeans.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Mark asks, letting go of your hand to grab your hip, steadying you.

“I’m fine- I’m just…” - unbelievably horny - “you’re a good kisser.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Thanks. I liked kissing you too.”

“So…” you look over your shoulder at him, “wanna kiss me again?”

Mark grins, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

As with the first two times, Mark pulls away much too fast for your liking.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never experienced a situation like this. Mark is being respectful- he’s keeping his hands in PG locations, and the kisses have involved zero tongue- does he not like you as much as you like him?

How much do you like this line chef?

Do you like him because he’s not completely fawning over you like you’re used to?

What is going on?!

“I just want you to know,” Mark says, “it sounds like you’re used to fuck boys and shit, and I uh- well, I’m not like them. There’s no pressure to get naked or anything today-” his voice hitches, “in fact, Jeno will be home soonish so it’s better if we don’t-”

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

Mark tenses behind you. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If we move to your room, Jeno won’t walk in on us.”

“It’s not about that,” Mark assures you. “Look, I want to take my time with you. This is our first date. I want things to feel right. I want to do this right. Can you understand that?”

You think maybe you’re too horny to want to understand it. 

You want to tear Mark’s clothes off. You want to push him down and ride him until he’s gasping your name and filling you with his cum. You want to feel him still dripping out of you when you go into work tomorrow morning- 

No one has ever made you wait. You’re much too impatient for playing around- and your past lovers have been the same way. 

Even so, you respect the boundary Mark has just expressed. “No fucking tonight,” you agree, “I get that. It’s for the better.”

However, it’s not for the better of your throbbing pussy. 

Seven

God, Mark can’t take his eyes off of you. It’s been two hours since you arrived on shift, and Mark has been distracted for all of it.

You look adorable today. Your black outfit hugs your body just right, and Mark’s mind is consistently wandering to last night, when his hands had traced your hips before lacing your fingers-

When you speak, he finds his focus shifting to your lips- those pretty lips he’d kissed. The lips that had left him wanting more- the lips he’d thought about for hours after you’d gone home. He’d dreamt of kissing you, but it had fallen quite short to the real thing.

You’d sounded hurt when Mark had said you shouldn’t fuck last night, and part of Mark regrets drawing the line in the sand. But on the other hand, Mark had meant it when he said it wasn’t the right time. 

He doesn’t want to bed you after watching a few episodes of anime. You deserve so much more than that. 

Besides, if he had fucked you last night, Mark might have needed to take a sick day just to calm down. Even now, knowing he’s tasted your lips has his skin heating every time he looks at you. 

God, you’ve got him practically bewitched.

As the lunch rush comes to an end, Mark finds time to go outside and vape. He watches the cars pass while he puffs on his device, closing his eyes and imagining your lips.

As his little break is coming to an end, the door hinges squeak behind him, and Mark turns to find you standing there. 

“Oh, hi,” you grin. 

“Hey.” He looks you up and down. “You leaving?”

“Doyoung cut me again, it’s been slow this week,” you nod. 

Mark swallows thickly. He can’t help the way his gaze dips to your lips again.

You step forward, smiling. “You wanna kiss me again, don’t cha, Mark?”

He doesn’t even bother responding. He slips his vape into his pocket, grabbing your hips to tug you closer. As he brings his mouth down to yours, he pauses for a second, meeting your gaze. If you want to pull away, he gives you ample time, but instead, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, closing the distance between your lips.

You take more control today than last night. You lick at his lower lip, not doing too much tongue, but providing just enough that it has Mark’s skin tingling with need. His fingers dig against your hips, pulling you tighter. 

The kiss deepens, and Mark’s entire heart lurches in his chest when you let out a pleased mewling sound.

Fuck, he loves your sounds already- you sound so fucking pretty-

“Jesus.” Head Chef John’s voice makes Mark practically jump, and he tears his lips away from your own, eyes immediately finding his boss, who’s standing by the exit door. “Damn, newbie, you work fast, don’t you?”

Mark’s skin feels like it’s on fire, and he’s quick to let go of your hips, stepping away and running an awkward hand through his hair, “Chef-”

“Don’t tease him, Johnny,” you sigh. “You nearly gave Mark a heart attack sneaking up on us like that.”

“I’m shocked neither of you heard the door.”

“We were busy!” you insist, raising your voice in jest at the head chef.

Mark is shocked at the way you talk so easily with his boss. But he supposes you’ve been at the restaurant for over a year- maybe you’re closer with the tall head chef than Mark realized.

“Look, I’ll say what I said when Hyuck was trying to get with you, sunshine,” Johnny grins, reaching into his pocket to pull out a jacked-up vape pen. “As long as you use protection we’re good, I can’t have my line chefs becoming fathers and taking time off.”

“And I’ll say what I said last time you told me to wrap it: never gonna happen.” 

“IUD’s aren’t a hundred percent viable,” Johnny points out, making Mark nearly choke on air.

“Mine has been so far, so stick it old man.” You turn to Mark, “Don’t mind him, he’s protective.”

“I was protective with Hyuck, because he’s a douchebag, but Mark seems okay,” Johnny laughs. 

“Thanks?” Mark can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“Listen, I’ll text you okay?” You grab the front of Mark’s apron, pulling him in so you can press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Have a good rest of your shift.”

Mark watches you dart off. He’s tongue-tied, skin still flaring, heart racing in his chest.

“She’s a good one,” Johnny muses. “Best expo girl we have. Don’t fuck it up, Mark, I’ll fire you before we get rid of her.”

“Trust me,” Mark coughs, “I wasn’t planning on fucking things up any time soon.”

Eight

In the year you’ve had your solo apartment, you’ve not had any guys over. Your MO is to go to the man’s place so you can dip out whenever you get anxious or tired. Inviting a man over to your safe space woman sanctuary is new. The nervousness is manifesting physically; you’re fussing over the overswept floor and the frill on your couch blanket when Mark texts you that he’s arrived. 

With one final breath, you head down to the lobby to let Mark in.

He’s in blue jeans and a black hoodie that sets off the blonde tone of his hair. You’ve been meaning to ask him about who does his bleach out, but you know men can be touchy about their physical appearance and certain body modifications, so you’ve been holding yourself back.

He looks good. That’s all that really matters. 

“Hey,” Mark grins as you open the door, pulling you into a hug. 

“Hey, yourself,” you smile back, pulling away from the embrace to lead Mark to the elevator. You can hear the line chef following you, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about your building. 

“It’s a nice place,” Mark notes, as if he can read your mind. “New build?”

“I think it’s been here like three or four years? I moved in last winter.”

“Right,” he nods, coming to a stop next to you as you hit the button to call the elevator. 

You can feel him staring at you, and it’s making you even more nervous. “What?” you ask, letting out a short laugh.

“Nothing, you just uh… you look cute.” 

“I’m literally in PJ’s.” Your gaze dips to your simple fuzzy purple shorts, and the tank top you’re wearing.

“But they’re nice. I’ve only ever seen you in work outfits, and when you came over last time you were in jeans. You look cute dressed down like this.”

You’d been worried about being so casual with Mark- dressing for comfort instead of the need to impress, but it seems you’ve succeeded in both comfortability and making a good impression. 

“Thank you,” you smile, your insides practically glowing from the compliment. No other man has seen you this way and called you cute- it’s one of the reasons you usually dip out from a man after sex. There’s no comfort or getting comfortable- your other relationships have always been rigid, a push pull and need to be perfect at all times in order to be deserving of attention.

You make it up to your floor, and another wave of anxiety washes over you as you let Mark into your small apartment. “It’s not much,” you sigh, “but it’s home.”

Mark slips off his sneakers by your door, looking around. “No, I like it,” he assures you. “No roommates kicking around- I bet living alone is pretty relaxing.”

“It can be, but it’s also lonely at times,” you admit.

“Well, if you get lonely here, you can always call me and I can come entertain you.”

Mark’s words give an air of longevity. He sounds certain about this, as if it’s a given that he’s part of your life now, as if he’s not going anywhere. 

You’re not sure what to make of Mark. You’ve never really had steady consistency from a man- but he seems so sincere, it makes you want to be hopeful, and hope can be a dangerous thing for a girl like you.

“So uh… can I get you something to drink?” you ask. “We’re just watching anime right?”

“I’m good. If I get thirsty, I’ll let you know,” Mark assures you, taking a seat on the couch in your living room. “Should we uh… should I move some of these pillows so we can cuddle again?”

You grin, pouring yourself a cup of water. “If you want to cuddle, we can cuddle.”

“I want to cuddle,” Mark states, immediately grabbing at the cushions and rearranging your space to allow for you both to lie down. 

He’s adorable. Laying down in front of him already feels kind of natural. The way he grabs your hip and tugs you close to his chest has your heart singing, and his breath against the back of your neck is as familiar as anything.

Not much needs to be said as you start your anime. You’re simply enjoying the comfortability of companionship- companionship lacking any pressures or timeframes. You’re two souls sharing your moments together.

It’s a different feeling for your mind to go blank while you’re with Mark. You’re shocked by how safe you feel in his embrace. 

You talk here and there, the two of you discussing moments in the anime, but conversation doesn’t get much deeper than that. You actually kind of enjoy not having to use your brain, and you’re definitely enjoying the warmth of the man behind you.

“I’m uh, gonna take my hoodie off,” Mark tells you, shifting slightly. 

“Okay.” You give him space, turning to look over your shoulder as he lifts the fabric off his body, revealing the white tshirt below. “Wait, can you give me a deeper tattoo tour now?”

“Uh…”

“You said you’d give me a proper tour on the second date,” you tease, hooking your finger in the neck of his shirt and gently pulling, giving yourself a tiny peak of marked skin along his collarbones.

“I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” Mark laughs sheepishly. “Okay,” he takes a deep breath, sitting up again and grabbing the hem of his shirt.

As Mark reveals his chest to you, you’re a little taken aback by what you see.

Generally, you’re pretty good at guessing a man’s build under his clothing, but Mark is much more toned than you thought he would be. It’s clear he works out, and the muscles you see are amplified by tasteful placement of tattoos littering his torso.

“Where do I even start?” Mark asks, looking down at himself.

“Wherever you want to.” You turn to face him, anime forgotten in the background.

He brushes his own fingers across one of the ferns decorating his collarbones. “These are my mom’s favourite plant.”

“Her favourite plant?” you grin.

“Yeah, I know, most moms have a favourite flower, but my mom kind of really likes ferns.”

“Sounds like you’re close with her,” you note.

“I’m a complete mama’s boy,” Mark admits with a laugh, which is when your gaze lands on a heart with the word ‘Mom’ tattooed on his ribs.

“I see that.” You reach out and gently brush the mark.

The line chef shivers under your touch, the muscles in his abdomen jumping deliciously. You wonder how ticklish he is. 

“Then this one,” Mark touches the moth blooming out from his sternum, “was just really cool and the artist needed someone to practice on, so I said, let’s do it, fuck me up.”

You grin at his choice of words. Mark can be kind of reserved at work, it’s interesting to hear his dirty mouth now that you’re alone. 

You kind of love listening to him as he continues with the tour, tracing the lined patch work. Each mark is another story or detail about the line chef you’re starting to fall for, and you commit his words to memory. 

He’s done the tour of his tattoos much too fast for your liking. You trace the last of the marks, a dagger on his bicep. 

Laying on your back with Mark on his side next to you, things feel very intimate, especially now that his focus has shifted away from his tattoos and is solidly fixed on you.

His hand finds your abdomen, and he gently lines the curve of your hip with his fingers.

Neither of you say anything, caught in the peaceful quiet and moments of mutual discovery. 

His fingers brush by your rib cage, and you’re struck by the need for more. Gently placing your hand over his, you prompt him up higher, until his palm is placed over your breast. You sneak a glance at Mark, noticing the way he swallows thickly.

“Are you a boobs man, Mark?”

“I mean… who isn’t?”

You grin at his answer. “Should I take my shirt off? It’s only fair, right? Yours is off.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he assures you.

“I want to take my shirt off.”

“Then take your shirt off,” he says quietly.

You sit up, quickly discarding the fabric before laying back down again. Now you’re just in a bra and PJ shorts. Mark sucks in a breath, his hand finding your bare hip. Once again, you have to guide his touch up to your breast. This time, when he squeezes you, his thumb rubs over the swell of plump flesh.

You can feel your nipple hardening with interest, pressing against the cup of your bra. “We should take this off next,” you suggest, grabbing at your strap.

“Yeah?” Mark’s eyes widen as he looks at you, his lips parting as he breathes heavier.

“I mean, unless you want me to keep it on?”

“Like I said,” the line chef brushes his thumb over your skin again, “do whatever makes you most comfortable.” 

You sit up again, reaching behind your back to undo the clasp. For a moment, you pause. This is a line you won't be able to uncross. You’re about to show your coworker your boobs. Your sweet, honest, adorable, line chef coworker, who gazes at you with stars in his eyes- your fuck boy look alike secret softie-

You undo your bra, throwing it off the couch before laying flat again. This time, you don’t have to prompt Mark’s hand, he gently traces his fingers up your ribs until he’s cupping your breast. He watches you tentatively, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Mark says, firmly this time.

“Come here,” you reach up to cup the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours. He kisses you like he’s afraid you might break, but when you whimper, he responds with a groan, deepening the passion as his tongue glides against your own.

His hand kneads your breast, making you moan again, pushing up toward his palm. You can feel the desire growing between your legs as he kisses you, and you reach out to trace his chest. Your touch begins to lower, fingers grazing over his abdomen-

Mark breaks the kiss, nuzzling against your jaw to prompt your face to the side so he can access your throat. He peppers your skin in soft kisses, slowly descending until he reaches your collar bones-

You realize what he’s about to do and tangle your fingers through his soft blonde hair, pushing your chest up in silent affirmation. “Mark-” you whimper, rewarded when his wet lips wrap around your nipple.

Fuck, he feels so good-

Has anyone ever felt this good?

Maybe it’s the waiting- the going slow, or maybe it’s just the fact that Mark makes you feel safe, but regardless, each touch, each brush of his lips and tongue, has you mewling. You’re pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, your pussy practically throbbing with each flick of his wet muscle against your pebbled nipple.

“Mark?” you whisper, tightening your grip in his hair. “Are you…” you swallow thickly. “Are you going to fuck me?”

The line chef pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with dark chocolate eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do-”

“What if I want this?”

“I usually don’t sleep with girls on the second date-”

“Make an exception?” you plead. 

You haven’t been fucked in a few weeks, and you’re feeling desperate. You want to connect with Mark on that physical level, and sex is always the way you do that with men. You want him to feel good, to give him a reason to stick around like he says he will.

“But wait-” you feel your skin heat, “I have something I should tell you first.”

Mark cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“I uh… I’m going to be super real with you right now.” You take a deep breath. “Look, I read a lot of smut? That’s like- I read a lot of erotica, written porn, I guess- and, in smut, and porn especially, girls always just cum so easily- and I wish I was that type of person, but I’m not. No guy has ever… you know, gotten me there. What I’m trying to say is, I can have fun even without cumming. So if I can’t get there with you, it’s not you, it’s literally me-”

“Hey,” Mark reaches up to cup your cheek, cutting off your rambling. “Thanks for telling me, but there’s no pressure. Whatever happens, happens. For some girls, you have to get more comfortable. My first girlfriend was like that too, and there’s never any judgement from me. I’m willing to wait for you to feel safe enough that your body relaxes.”

“You are?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you. “I mean, I can’t promise that I’ll be as good as the guys in your books or in porn. Dirty talk is something I have to get used to using too, but, if we give it time, I’m sure we’ll figure each other out.”

You search his eyes, processing what he’s just said. Then you give him a small nod. “That sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. “But, if we’re going to do this, I’d like for us to go to your bedroom, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” You sit up, getting off the couch quickly while Mark follows. As you get to the door of your bedroom, you look over your shoulder, snaking your fingers into your shorts and pulling them down.

“Fuck-” Mark groans, eyes taking in your body.

You can see a half chub pressing against the denim of his blue jeans, and your pussy throbs again. “Come on, puppy boy,” you tease. 

He’s quick to catch you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his chest to your back. His lips find your neck and you giggle, moving toward your bed while dragging the line chef with you.

“You’re so pretty,” Mark groans, tracing your curves with one hand while the other reaches to grab your breast.

Turning in his arms, you press your lips to his, enjoying the way each kiss gets deeper. He’s relaxing against you, his tongue exploring you more and more. 

When you make it to the bed, he gently prompts you to sit down. You look up at Mark, watching him take in your form. “How did I get this lucky?” he asks.

“You asked me out,” you remind him. “So you did this all yourself, Mark.”

“Did I?” he grins, sinking to the floor.

You’re surprised by the new position, surprised by the way he gently parts your knees, his gaze finding your hot core. 

“Can I take these off?” he questions, gently tugging at your panties.

“Yeah-” you whisper.

Most guys don’t eat you out as an appetizer. In fact, you have to ask most men to go down on you- but here’s Mark, doing it all of his own accord. And he looks so needy- in the best possible way.

Mark slips your panties down your legs, and then his lips find your calf. He begins kissing up your skin, spreading your thighs to accommodate him. 

“You don’t have to-” Your words are lost when he presses a kiss to your clit.

“Don’t have to what?” Mark asks, looking up at you.

“Don’t have to eat me out-”

“I want to eat you out,” he confirms. “I’ll eat you out for as long as you want me to- but, when you need more, just say something, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” Mark hums, immediately pressing his mouth against your core again. He licks a wet stripe of your pussy, and it makes your legs twitch on his shoulders.

You relax against the mattress, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of Mark pleasuring you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him where you need him. He focuses on your clit, circling it and toying with it.

It feels amazing- it does, but there’s some sort of mental block in your brain. You wish you could just cum from this, but the more you think about that, the more you distract yourself from Mark. God, you almost feel bad making him eat you out like this- he’s not getting anything-

The overthinking is something you’re used to, and try as you might to talk yourself down from the ledge of sexual issues, you can’t relax. You can’t focus on Mark, and it frustrates you to no end.

Finally, after what feels like hours of him eating you out - although it must only be a few minutes - you gently tug his hair. “Want your cock now,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” Mark wipes his hand across his mouth, looking up at you with pupils blown from lust.

“Please,” you nod. 

“Should I uh- should I grab a condom?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “We’re both clean right?”

“Yeah-”

“I have an IUD, remember? I want you to cum inside of me.”

Mark draws in a shaky breath. You watch him swallow thickly, then he stands up, undoing his blue jeans. When he pushes down his pants, he moves his underwear too, and just like that, your favourite line chef is standing naked in front of you.

He’s got a pretty cock. It’s girthy, cut, and must be around seven or so inches. The tip is curved slightly to his left, and it’s leaking precum even though you’ve hardly touched him.

Did Mark really get that turned on just from eating you out?

“Come here,” you offer him a small smile, shifting up your bed until your head reaches the pillows. You open your arms for Mark, watching him press a knee onto the mattress and approach you. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you drag him into a kiss.

The kiss is passionate, but there’s a tentative energy to it as Mark’s cock presses between your pussy lips, collecting the juice and saliva that’s congregated there. 

“Are you sure about this?” Mark asks, panting against your mouth. 

You open your eyes to look up at him, nodding.

“I uh… I need to hear you say yes.”

“Yes, Mark, I’m sure about this,” you say, trailing your fingers through his hair. “Please, I want you.”

He searches your eyes, then, with a final nod, he kisses you again. One of his hands slides between your bodies, and you feel him line his cock up with your core. Your legs tighten around his hips, and it’s something like a united effort when his length sinks into your pussy.

You both groan against each other’s lips. The kissing stops, but you remain close enough that your noses are touching. His breath is hot against your skin, and he begins to fuck you slowly, his cock filling you perfectly.

“You feel so good,” Mark groans. 

All you can do is moan in response, drawing his lips back to yours while he fucks you.

You get lost in the feeling of him, and the kissing does aid in calming down your tumultuous thoughts. You can focus on the pleasure that thrums through you with each thrust, the way his cock glides against your inner walls and stretches you out.

Mark grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers and pressing you against the bed, his hips working faster. His tongue is eager against your own, and he eats up your soft whimpers. His groans and grunts of effort make your soul sing, your heart beating quickly in your breast.

“Shit,” Mark pulls away from the kiss, looking down at you. “It’s been a minute since I’ve- since I’ve slept with anyone,” he admits. “I’m uh… pretty close.”

“Want you to cum,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Please- want you to fill me up-”

Mark groans, pressing his lips against your own. You kiss him desperately, tightening your legs around his hips. He squeezes your hand, his groans muffled by your mouth.

His hips work faster and faster- then, all at once, he kind of just stops. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and his grip on your hand is tight as he coats your insides with his cum.

You hold him through his high, your free hand petting his hair while he brings his lips to your neck, panting desperately and kissing your skin. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as he finishes. Mark pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. You can tell there’s something he wants to say, but it’s clear that he’s not able to find the right words. “I, uh…” he licks his lips. “Should I grab you a tissue or something?”

“Yes, please,” you laugh, letting go of him so he can get off the bed. You watch him look around your room, finding your tissues on the nightstand. 

His legs are as covered in patchwork tattoos as the rest of him, and you’re pleased that the tour will continue another day. He hands you the tissue. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?”

“You can go for it, I just need a second,” you tell him.

Mark nods, pressing one last kiss to your lips before he leaves your bedroom.

You lay there in bed, holding the tissue between your legs to capture any of the cum beginning to leak out of you. 

You’re glad Mark got to cum. You’re not surprised you hadn’t. You just hope maybe one day you will get there, and for some reason, you have a hunch Mark will be the one to achieve an orgasm for you. Or at least, you hope he will. 

Nine

“So did you do it?” 

“Hmm?” Mark looks up from the chicken he’s cutting.

“You had your second date with Sunshine last night, right?” Hyuck presses. “So…. did you do it? Did you make her cum, or what?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?” Mark sighs, looking at the other side of the kitchen where John is working. “We shouldn’t be talking about this here.”

“Nah, this is the perfect place to talk about it,” Hyuck leans against the work station, his back to the head chef. “So I’m guessing you didn’t make her cum.”

“Is that all you were thinking about every time you fucked her?” Mark asks.

“Duh.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s the kind of mentality that would make a girl overthink the situation?” Mark shakes his head. “I bet you would watch her super intently and then just ask her to cum.”

“That’s a move, Mark, it’s called having rizz.”

“But it never worked, so was it really rizz, or were you just fucking yourself over?”

Hyuck narrows his eyes. “So now you’re the expert on making girls cum?”

Over Hyuck’s shoulder, John stops what he’s doing and turns to stare at the line chefs. Mark can feel his skin heating, and he opens his mouth to rectify the situation, but Hyuck’s already speaking again. 

“I bet you a hundred bucks you won’t be able to make her cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m not betting money on this shit,” Mark hisses. 

“Sounds like something a pussy would say.”

“A pussy with a knife in his hand,” the line chef notes, his grip tightening on the handle. “Look, when I do make her cum, you have to stop bashing her like it’s her fault that you wouldn’t take the time to make her comfortable.” 

“And when you don’t make her cum?”

“It’s not going to happen.” Mark’s not sure where his confidence is coming from, but something in his heart tells him to be firm about this. He’s going to get you there. It might take a few weeks, hell, it might take over a month- but he’s going to get you to the point where you relax enough to cum for him, or so help him God-

Ten

Mark had cum inside of you three times since arriving at seven, and at two am he had finally broached the idea of heading home. “I should probably go,” the line chef had sighed, holding you closer to his chest.

“I mean… you could always just stay over?” you’d suggested.

“Yeah?”

“It’s our third date, why not?” you’d shrugged, cuddling tighter against him. 

You hadn’t planned this, it had just sort of happened, and that’s how Mark had ended up sleeping at your place for the first time. 

He’d woken up half way through the night, voice raspy, hands grabby, moaning about how lucky he was to be here with you. Falling asleep again after he’d railed you had been as easy as breathing, and now, in the morning hours, you’re in the shower to wash off all the cum he’d left on and inside of you. 

Neither of you have to be at work till the afternoon, and you kind of like the idea of lazing around with Mark, who’s still passed out in your bed. 

You take your time with your skin care and hair, and when you finally enter your room, you’re intrigued to find the line chef still asleep. He’s quite handsome like this, all bundled up in your white duvet, blonde hair shining around him like a halo.

You try to be careful as you crawl onto the mattress next to him, but Mark immediately rolls over to pull you tight to his chest. He lets out a soft groan, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

God, why are things so domestic with this boy already?

His hands trail up and down your back, fingers stroking your skin. You’d put on his shirt, but other than that, you’re naked, and it doesn’t take long for Mark to realize that fact. His touch moves down to your hip, sliding under the shirt. His thumb draws circles against your bare skin, and he lets out another moan. 

“Morning, puppy boy,” you laugh.

“Hungry,” Mark whispers. 

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he leans down, pressing kisses to your throat, his lips brushing by your ear when he repeats himself; “Hungry.”

“I can make you breakfast,” you assure him.

“Don’t want food,” Mark says. “Want you.”

In one quick motion he pushes you onto your back, getting on top of you. His breath is hot against your neck, and he tugs on your shirt, pulling it up to reveal your breasts. His mouth wraps around your nipple, and he sucks on it gently, releasing sounds of pleasure. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh of relief. “Feels good,” you tell him.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his digits teasing your slit. “Always so wet for me,” he groans, releasing your nipple with a pop. “Can I taste?”

Mark is definitely getting more bold with you, but that’s what happens when you’ve fucked a handful of times, had three dates, and one sleep over. 

“You can do anything you want to me,” you tell him.

The line chef kisses down your abdomen, pushing your legs open as he settles between them. You thread your fingers through his hair as he brings his mouth to your core, licking at your pussy lips. 

Mark is really good at oral. This is the fourth time he’s eaten you out. With each time he presses his mouth to your pussy, part of you gets more and more convinced that you’ll cum this way. When he adds two fingers into your aching core, you’re pretty much sure that it will happen-

It feels so good, and the moans that escape you reflect that. Your hips buck toward his face, prompting Mark to press a palm to your lower abdomen, keeping you pinned.

But every time you think you’re close - every time you’re about to announce it to him - the feeling dissipates. 

You can feel yourself getting more and more irritated with your body, and soon, you give up entirely. “Mark?”

“Hmm?” The vibrations against your clit have your thighs shaking.

“Can I just- can we just fuck? Please? I want you inside of me.”

Mark pulls away from your pussy, his fingers continuing in your hole. “Are you sure? You know I enjoy playing with you like this.”

“I know- but, I just- I’m in my head again. Want your cock in my pussy.”

Mark takes his fingers out of your core, bringing them to his lips to lick clean. Then he crawls up your body, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I’ll fuck you,” he says, “but don’t ever think I don’t enjoy being between your thighs like that, okay? You don’t have to cum, I know from the sounds that you make that you enjoy it, and that’s enough for me until you get there, yeah?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “I’m still in my head.”

“I get that, Sunshine,” he kisses you gently, cupping your cheek as he lines his cock up with your wet hole. “If there’s anything I can do to stop the overthinking-”

“Just fuck me,” you insist, wrapping your legs around his hips.

Mark laughs. “You got it.”

Eleven

“Dude, is that a hickey on your neck?” Hyuck’s annoying voice makes Mark flinch, and his hand immediately flies to slap against the side of his throat.

“What? No.” 

“It totally is,” Hyuck laughs. “Damn, you two must really be going at it a lot.”

“We’re having fun.”

“Fun like two times? Three?”

“Fun like five times in the past twenty four hours.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hyuck’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t know what you were talking about with her not being able to sleep next to you. She passed out just fine with me last night.”

Hyuck lets out a deep breath. “Fucking Hell. Maybe I underestimated you. So… did she cum?” 

Mark sighs. He hates to be talking about this while at work. You’re running food, but you could be back at any second, and Mark doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea about all of this. Hyuck is the instigator of these sexual talks, and Mark doesn’t know how much to keep to himself.

“So that’s a no,” Hyuck deduces. “Big ouch.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t talk about this anymore,” Mark says finally.

“Why? Is your pride hurt?” 

Mark lets out another annoyed breath. “I just think it’s disrespectful. You’re an ex fling of hers, you don’t deserve to know everything about her personal life.”

“I don't want to know about her personal life,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “I want to know about her sex life, there’s a difference.” 

“I’m done talking to you about this,” Mark insists.

“Damn, someone is starting to sound like a protective boyfriend. Jeeze, calm down.”

Mark hates that there’s some truth in what Hyuck is saying. He already feels quite protective of you. He’s got dates planned, things that can make you smile. He pays close attention to you when you speak, looking for your likes and dislikes. 

Mark is falling for you faster than he��d ever care to admit, especially not to Hyuck of all people. 

Twelve

“Who does a staff Christmas party in January?” Jungwoo asks as a bunch of you take the big table after the restaurant has closed.

“We were all too busy at Chirstmas time, remember?” Jaehyun says, looking at his waiter friend. “And then there was New Years, and we closed early.”

“I agree with you Woo, a mid January Christmas party feels weird,” you grin, leaning against your favourite server. 

In all honesty, it feels like your managers Taeil and Doyoung just wanted to give you all some time to relax and celebrate. January can be a slow month in the restaurant business, and you’d heard Jeno mention yesterday that there are four or five bottles of wine that no one has been ordering that have to be used up. 

As you begin to drink the wine, the mid January Christmas party makes more and more sense. The chefs have finished their closing tasks, with John joining you first, followed by Hyuck, and finally Mark.

With Jaehyun across from you, Jungwoo on one side, and John on the other, you’re surrounded. Mark sits at the other end of the table, offering you a small smile. You give him a gentle wave in response, giggling to yourself over the rim of your wine glass.

“Gosh, Sunshine,” Jungwoo slides closer to you. “Are you drunk already?”

“You’ve been refilling my glass,” you point out, pouting a little.

“Because you’re a cute drunk,” he grins. 

“A very cute drunk,” Jaehyun agrees, eyeing you from across the table. 

The thing about dating a coworker and it being new means you can’t talk about it. Until there’s a label with you and Mark, you’re keeping your lips shut. As far as Jungwoo or Jaehyun know, you’re single, and the latter of the two has been hitting on you for months.

It feels odd to have Jaehyun calling you cute while Mark is just a few seats down. Your stomach twists into drunken knots, and you wish you could move to be closer to your new secret Boo-

In the periphery of your vision, you note Mark stand up and begin to head to the bar. It feels like the perfect excuse to get some time alone with him, so you hop off of your chair. 

Mark’s grabbed a glass and is beginning to pour himself a beer from the tap by the time you reach him. “Hi, puppy boy,” you grin.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he laughs, looking you up and down. “Jungwoo’s been feeding you the wine, huh?”

“Just like… a normal amount.” God, you can’t help but smile constantly at the boy who has your heart twisting into love sick knots. 

“Are you tipsy?” Mark cocks his head to the side as he finishes pouring his drink.

“Maybe…”

“Can I get you some water?” he suggests.

You lean forward over the bar top, lowering your voice so only Mark can hear you. “I’m thirsty, but not for water or wine.”

It takes Mark a moment to read the innuendo of your words, but then he laughs. “I should get you some water.”

“What if I don’t drink it?”

“What if I ask you to please drink it?” he counters, already filling a cup for you. 

“Okay, fine. Just for you, though.” 

Mark grins as he hands you the glass.

“Why do you take care of me so much?” you ask, as the two of you head back to the table.

“Because,” Mark pulls your chair out for you, “you’re my favourite expo girl.”

“I better be,” you say, teasingly narrowing your eyes at Mark before he walks back to his own seat down the long table.

You begin to nurse your water. Mark’s right about you needing it. The tipsyness has somehow intensified- probably because Jungwoo had insisted you finish your wine glass. You feel blurry as you sit there and listen to your coworkers chat.

“I just don’t like saying chicken breast,” Jungwoo states.

“But that’s what they are!” Yuta, one of the night line chefs, insists. “They’re breasts!”

“I just tell customers that the alfredo comes with chicken, they don’t need to hear me say breast!” Jungwoo fights back. “Jaehyun agrees with me, right Jae?”

“Yeah, I just say chicken,” the man across from you nods.

“Taeyong also just says chicken,” Jungwoo continues. “So right now it’s three to one.”

“Hyuck,” Yuta calls across the table, gaining the attention of the men at the other end. “Do you call it chicken breast, or just chicken?”

“Neither,” Hyuck says confidently. “Thems some chicken boobies.”

You can’t believe the conversation you’re hearing. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” you decide. 

“What? Why?” Jungwoo whines.

“I can’t be here for a discussion about chicken.”

Jungwoo slams his hand on the table. “See, she said just chicken too!” 

Yuta points his finger at you like you’re on a game show. “Is that your final answer?” 

You lean forward, pretending his hand is a microphone. “Chicken titties.”

“Yeah, we’re cutting you off,” Jungwoo decides. “You need to go home and sleep.”

“Someone should make sure you get back to your place okay,” Jaehyun notes, standing from his chair.

“I’ll take care of her,” comes Mark’s voice from the other end of the table.

Jaehyun turns to stare at the line chef, who also stands up. 

John is next to you, and you watch a knowing expression appear on his features, grinning as he sips his beer. 

“You still have half your drink left,” Jaehyun insists, “And, I’ve known our little miss Sunshine for much longer than you have. I’m sure she’s probably more comfortable with me taking her home.”

A muscle in Mark’s jaw feathers. You watch him reach down and grab his beer, downing the whole thing in three large gulps before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Fuck, the motion reminds you of what he does whenever he eats you out, and you feel almost dizzy thinking about it.

“Who’s it gonna be, Sunshine?” Hyuck grins. “Jaehyun, or Marky boy?”

“Let’s go, Mark,” you say, offering Jaehyun a small smile. “We’ll see all you guys tomorrow.”

Jaehyun looks pretty defeated, but you can’t even bring yourself to care as Mark comes around the table to offer you his arm. At first, you think you don’t his help, but when you stumble after one step, you latch onto his bicep.

“I was hoping you’d go home with me tonight,” you whisper as the two of you exit to the parking lot, where Mark’s truck is waiting. He helps you climb inside, smiling and shaking his head.

“Sunshine, if you ever want me to go home with you, you don’t have to get drunk, just ask.”

Thirteen

“I’m really not that drunk,” you insist, making your way over to the liquor cabinet again.

Mark sighs. You’re a grown adult, he can’t keep directing you away from the booze. “Okay, I believe you. What do you want? Let me make it for you.”

“I want…” you think about it for a moment. “An espresso martini.”

“It’s late, won’t the espresso make it hard for you to sleep?” You’re definitely drunk and you both know it.

“I don’t care. Want espresso martini.”

“Okay, Sunshine, you got it.” Mark moves through your kitchen, finding the espresso machine there. He slips a pod into the device, setting up a cup. 

“Can you add honey?” you ask, already moving to the cabinet to grab a bottle. Mark takes it from you, squeezing some of the honey into the bottom of the cup as hot coffee begins to pour over it. “I also want Baileys.”

Mark laughs a little, shaking his head as you stumble to grab the large Irish Cream bottle from your cupboard.

“And also ice,” you declare. “Frothed.”

“This is a whole thing, huh?” Mark watches you fill the frother with Baileys. 

“I like what I like,” you insist. “We’re gonna triple froth this.”

“You’re the boss.” Mark reaches into his pocket, pulling out his vape. You’ve been letting him smoke in here, and he appreciates the reprieve as the two of you make this very complicated espresso martini. 

By the time you’re done with it, Mark’s not even sure you could call it an espresso martini. With the amount of frothed foam on top, this drink is something else entirely. 

He watches you lift the cup to your lips, immediately getting foam on your face. You simply giggle and wipe it off, licking your finger clean. Then you dip your digit into the froth, scooping it up and popping it in your mouth.

Mark swallows thickly while watching you do this.

“Puppy,” you groan, “this is so good.” You offer him your finger. “Try it.”

Mark can’t say no to you, so he allows you to dip your finger into his mouth. He licks you clean, watching the way your breath catches. You bite on your bottom lip, swaying a little on your feet.

“Your turn,” you say quietly, holding out the cup.

“My turn?”

“I wanna suck on your fingers.”

Mark knows you're drunk. He knows this probably isn’t the best idea for either of you, but he simply can’t say no to you. Not now, not ever. 

He dips his pointer into the foam, then presents it to you. 

You grab his wrist, keeping him still while you move forward to suck on his finger, releasing a small groan. Mark can already feel the blood rushing to his cock, but he ignores it as he goes for another scoop of froth. 

“Tastes better on you,” you tell him, licking his digit clean again. “More. Please.” 

The way you look at him each time you suck his finger tells Mark that you’re as horny as he is. When he scoops with two digits, you practically mewl as you lick.

“I wanna suck on something bigger,” you state.

“Sunshine,” Mark sighs, “I really don’t want to take advantage-” 

“You’re not. Mark, you’ve eaten me out so many times, please let me return the favour?” You’re already sinking to your knees on the kitchen floor, and the sight of you makes Mark’s cock throb in his jeans. “Please, I just wanna suck you off.”

“You know I can never say no to you.”

As the words leave him your hands find his belt. In moments, you’re pushing his pants down, your grip wrapping around the base of his cock. He watches you lick your lips, your gaze meeting his as you lean forward to take him into your mouth.

Mark immediately lets out a groan. “You feel so good, sunshine.”

You whimper around his length, and the vibration has Mark’s fingers twitching. He reaches for your head, cupping your face while you suck him off. His other hand places your drink on the kitchen counter before falling to his side. The line chef’s head falls back, his eyes closing as he eats up the feeling of you.

“That’s it,” he sighs, loving the way you twirl your tongue around his shaft.

You take as much of him past your lips as possible, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, causing Mark’s eyes to fly open. He looks down at you with concern, but you keep sucking him.

“You don’t have to deep throat me,” Mark assures you, pushing some hair away from your face.

You let out a whine, sinking onto him again, only for your throat to constrict tight around his tip. 

Mark groans. “Fuck, Sunshine, I’m serious.”

The line chef could never do what you’re doing right now. Not because he’s not into cock, but because he has the worst gag reflex ever. He knows what it’s like to choke, and he doesn’t want you sputtering on his cock in the name of pleasuring him. 

When you try to deep throat him a third time, Mark simply pulls you off of him. He’s struck by the view of a string of saliva keeping you connected to his cock, and the way you look up at him in a confused daze has his heart thundering in his chest.

“Enough of that,” Mark says softly. “Let me take care of you.”

He reaches down, gently taking your hands so he can help you to your feet. 

“Bedroom?” he suggests.

You nod, swallowing thickly and wiping at your mouth, then you dart off. You’re awfully agile for a drunk girl, and Mark smiles to himself before following you. By the time he’s made it to the bedroom, you’ve already stripped.

You’re sitting on the bed, grinning at him with a hint of mischief in your eye.

“Take advantage of me, Mark,” you say as he pulls off his shirt.

“Jesus,” Mark whispers. “I hate to say it, but that line is not enticing at all.”

He’s still kind of questioning if this is a good idea, but at the same time, you’ve already fucked on multiple occasions. He knows you want him sober, and especially - it appears - while drunk. 

“Come on, please?” You pout out your lower lip.

Mark slips out of his jeans, joining you on the bed. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss while your legs encircle his hips.

As his cock slips past your core, Mark is shocked at how wet you already are. Booze has really done a number on you, but neither of you are complaining.

“You sure you want this?” he asks.

“Don’t make me beg,” you laugh, “Cuz I will.”

“No, it’s okay,” Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “Just checking.”

Before he can reach for his cock, you beat him to it, grabbing the base and lining his tip up with your entrance. “Fuck me, Mark, I’m begging for it.”

He presses his lips hard against your own as he pushes into your wet hole, both of you groaning loudly at the feeling. 

“Shit,” you whimper, breaking the kiss to look up at him, “I’m so sensitive today-”

“Alcohol does that sometimes,” Mark notes, bringing up a hand to cup your breast. When his fingers pinch your nipple, you let out a high pitched squeal, pushing your chest up toward his palm. 

“Fuck, Mark-” Your pussy clenches tight around him, and the feeling makes Mark dizzy. 

“You sound so good, Sunshine, and you’re gripping me so fucking hard-” Mark begins to fuck into you. Your nails claw at his arms, your head thrown back, eyes closed.

Mark reaches down to rub your clit. You shudder below him, legs tightening around his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you moan loudly. “Just like that-”

He applies more pressure to your sensitive bud, making your hips buck toward him, your core clenching him in a death grip. 

“If you keep squeezing me like this, I’m not going to last long-” he warns you, tension building in the base of his cock.

“I want you to cum,” you insist, opening your eyes to look at him.

“Don’t you want to try and get there too?” he asks. 

“I don’t-” you swallow thickly, “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Let me fuck you a little longer, yeah?” Mark prompts. “I can wait a bit. Actually, we should switch positions.”

“To what?”

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly. As soon as Mark pulls away, you’re flipping over, pushing your ass into the air for him.

“Fuck, what a view,” he breathes, hands smoothing across your bum. 

You whimper, and the sound encourages Mark to slip himself into you again. The sigh of relief that leaves you has Mark’s skin tingling, his grip finding your hips. 

“It’s so deep,” you groan, tangling your fingers in the sheets.

You’re right about that- your wet pussy is taking every inch Mark has, and each smack of his hips against your ass has you getting even wetter. He’s pretty sure you’re dripping down your thighs at this point, and his fingers dig into your skin even harder.

The sounds you’re making are like music to his ears. Your grip on his cock is insane. Mark’s pretty sure tonight is going to be the night that you cum- but as he continues fucking you, it becomes more and more clear that only one of you is going to get there- and fast. 

“Fuck,” Mark grunts, his heart racing in his chest as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. 

“Cum in me,” you insist, reaching behind yourself.

Mark grabs your hand, lacing your fingers and holding you against the small of your back.

“You really want me to cum?” he asks, breathless.

“Please,” you nod, squeezing his hand. “Wanna be full.”

Again, Mark can’t say no to you.

“Okay, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, fucking you even harder. “Shit-” 

His orgasm hits straight on, tingling through his entire body like an electric jolt. He pushes his cock into you as deep as it can go, feeling it throb as he coats your walls in cum. Mark throws his head back, eyes closed, overcome by the pleasure that courses through him.

He’s not the type that can fuck someone through his high. When he cums, he has to stop, has to experience the feeling in full. His mind goes completely blank…

But his first thought when the words come back is that he should tell you he loves you.

Fuck. This is becoming a problem. 

Every time he cums deep inside of you, his feelings grow. He’s overwhelmed with this sense that you’re meant to be, that he should just lock you down and let you know how much you mean to him.

But as always, that logical side rears its head, reminding Mark that it’s only been a few weeks of seeing each other. He needs to take things slow- for your sake. He doesn’t want to scare you away. Being a safe space for you includes watching his tongue, it means not putting pressure on you like this- 

If there’s one thing that will pressure you, it’s the admittance that he’s kind of in love with you.

Instead of saying what’s on the tip of his tongue, Mark pulls out of you. He gets you a tissue for the cum that begins to drip out of your pussy, and a cup of water to make sure you’re hydrated. Once you’ve both cleaned up in the bathroom, he cuddles you close to his chest, stroking your back and listening to you breathe.

To Mark’s complete shock, you fall asleep on him within minutes. 

It’s a sign that you’re truly feeling safe with him, and Mark thinks he must be going in the right direction. He’s careful not to wake you up, he simply enjoys the feeling of holding you close while you rest.

Fourteen

You wake up slowly, cuddling closer to the warmth next to you. It takes you a moment to realize that the heat is coming from Mark, and you open your eyes to stare at him.

“Morning,” Mark grins, putting down his phone to watch you. “Sleep well?”

“Shockingly well,” you grin, snuggling closer. “You?”

“I like sleeping next to you,” Mark muses, wrapping his arms around you. “You know, I was thinking I could make you breakfast or something. Neither of us have work today.”

“Breakfast?” You perk up.

“Yeah, I can cook most breakfast or brunch foods, but uh… don’t ask me to make eggs.”

“Eggs?” You raise your brows, looking at him with a laugh.

“I know, it’s stupid cuz I’m literally a line chef, but I never went to school for it, remember?” Mark grins, stroking your skin. “John tried to teach me during brunch last week but I just- don’t have the patience for eggs.”

“Poor John, hired a chef who can’t cook eggs,” you tease. “Are you sure you don’t want something else for breakfast?”

“Like what?”

“Like… me?” 

Mark laughs. “As much as I’d love to fuck you today, I feel like- maybe it would be nice to not sleep together this morning... You know this isn’t just sex for me, right?”

“Yeah, but… sex is nice, isn’t it?”

Mark strokes your cheek, meeting your eyes. “Sex with you is always nice, but I think I kind of want to be domestic with you today instead, if that’s okay.”

Your heart clenches in your chest at his words. You can’t help but lean forward and kiss him gently. “That’s okay with me.”

“Good,” Mark grins. “Let's cuddle some more, and when you get hungry, I’ll take care of the food.”

As you slowly wake up next to Mark, you’re struck by how comfortable you are. Being with him like this feels natural. There’s no pressure to fuck, no need to suck dick in order to earn affection- Mark simply cares about you, and it’s clear in the way he holds you.

If you’re not careful, you could get used to this.

Fifteen

Since the ‘Christmas’ party, Mark’s been wanting to broach the subject of Jaehyun with you, but in the handful of times he’s slept over with you since then, it’s just never come up.

Today, watching Jaehyun talk with you by the bar, the question is fresh on Mark’s mind, and he only has one person he can justifiably ask about it.

“So… how close are Jae and y/n?”

“Hmm?” Hyuck looks up from the burger he’s stacking. “Oh, those two? Pretty close.”

Mark groans at the lack of detail. “Did they ever date?”

“I think she’s definitely his work crush. Pretty sure he’s asked her out a few times, but I don’t know if she realized it was a date sort of thing.” Hyuck laughs to himself. “I actually walked in on him asking her out around Halloween, but I think she thought it was a group idea. She rejected him though.”

“Looks like he hasn’t taken the hint,” Mark says, mouth forming a firm line.

“Nah, Jae has a pretty big ego. I mean, you’ve seen his face. He’s not used to rejection, it doesn’t compute for him.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, he simply goes back to the alfredo he’s cooking. But it becomes clear that Hyuck doesn’t want to let this go.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you, Marky boy?”

“No.”

“Yes, you totally are,” Hyuck grins. “How long have you and Sunshine been seeing each other now?”

“Like… three weeks? A month almost?”

“Have you talked about being exclusive or anything?”

“Not really.”

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s a yes or a no, Mark. There’s no ‘not really,’ when it comes to ‘the talk.’”

“No, we haven’t talked about it,” Mark admits with a sigh.

“Sounds like something you want though, right?” Hyuck presses.

“I thought I said I wasn’t going to talk to you about this anymore.”

“You’re the one who brought up Jae,” Hyuck points out, raising his hands in mock defense. 

Mark supposes Hyuck is right about that. He’s been considering defining the relationship recently- thinking about how a label could offer you safety, stability, things that are needed to help you relax. 

But now, the label transcends the use for comfortability and cumming, it almost feels needed.

You’re hot. Mark knows that. He sees the way people hit on you every day while you’re working. At first, he’d been okay with it- but now, he thinks maybe he needs something more. Maybe he needs the comfort of knowing that you’re taken, by him. 

He’s not the type to feel insecure, and he’s not even sure that insecurity is the right word for what he’s feeling.

All Mark knows, is that he wants to get to the next level with you, and he’s going to pull up his big boy pants to finally do it.

Sixteen

You’ve been at home for a few hours, having been cut from work early since it was a slow day, and you’re a little surprised when Mark calls you around dinner time.

“Hey you,” you grin, collapsing onto your bed to give Mark your full focus.

“Whatcha doin?” he asks.

“Just sitting here, was thinking of watching a movie. How about you? Just got off work?”

“Yeah, in a minute, just taking a vape break first. I was thinking maybe you’d let me see you when I’m off?”

“Definitely, you know my door is always open for you. But I should warn you, I have literally nothing in my fridge.”

“That’s okay, I’ll make your favourite and bring takeout,” Mark assures you. “See you in like… half an hour?”

That’s how Mark shows up on your home a short while later. You look him up and down, taking in his work outfit. “Didn’t wanna change after shift?” you grin, holding your door open for him.

“I uh, wanted to see you. Need a shower, so I figured I’d put on my fresh clothes after that.”

“Sounds good, you know that my home is your home. Go shower, I’ll put our food in bowls.” You accept the takeout from Mark, intent on turning to head to the kitchen- only for him to pull you back into an embrace.

“Hi,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your head and nuzzling against your hair.

“Hi,” you grin, turning in his arms to press your lips to his. “Go shower.”

“You got it.”

Mark goes into your bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water begin to run. You take your time in the kitchen. Mark has made himself alfredo, and he’s cooked your favourite rice bowl for you. You smile to yourself while plating the food, loving how domestic things have gotten with Mark.

Part of you is tempted to join Mark in the shower, but you’re not sure if you’re there yet, so you wait patiently for him to finish. This isn’t the first time he’s showered at your place, and you trust he’ll see his designated towel hanging on the hook behind your door. 

You kind of enjoy that he’s gotten so comfortable at your home. You’ve been spending so much time with him here and at work that it feels kind of odd when he’s not around. 

Soon, Mark is coming out of the bathroom. He’s in sweatpants and a tank top that shows off his tattoos. You have to actively stop yourself from drooling as you move to sit at the dinner table.

“So… did you need to talk to me about something?”

“Hmm?” Mark sits across from you.

“We didn’t have plans, you called and wanted to come over, I guess I’m just wondering if you had a specific reason.”

“Can’t I just miss you?” he grins.

Despite his words, it’s clear that there’s more to it, however you drop the issue. When Mark is ready to be real with you, he will be. You have time until then.

Mark begins to talk about work, how it had gotten busy after you’d left. You listen, happy to chat with him while you eat. 

After food, the two of you move to the couch, cuddling up while Netflix starts.

You’re two seasons into your anime already, it’s funny how time flies. You can turn your brain off when Mark spoons you, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder every now and again.

One episode in, Mark reaches over you for the remote, pausing your show. 

“I guess there is a reason I wanted to come over,” he admits finally.

“Yeah?” You turn onto your back, looking up at him. 

“I hate to say that I’ve been jealous, but uh… since the Christmas party, I’ve been a little jealous about you and Jaehyun.” Mark won’t meet your eyes, and you give him the space to continue. “I just… people are always hitting on you, and I don’t know, I think… I mean, I’m a serial monogamist according to Hyuck, and I know we haven’t been seeing each other for that long, but I only see you, in all ways, and I just… I don’t want to lock you down if you’re not looking for something serious, but I guess I wanted to know how you feel about exclusivity and that sort of thing.”

“With you? Mark… I’d love to be exclusive.” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t you realize that I have to watch girls flirt with you too? Maybe we’ve both been jealous.  I think… locking each other down would be good for us.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s beaming now.

“You’re special,” you confess. “I’ve never been able to sleep next to a guy I’ve slept with, which feels like such a contradiction- but sleep has always come easy with you. I’ve never felt such a lack of pressure- such acceptance, for all of me, the good and the bad. I like you a lot Mark, and I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”

“It’s not that it wasn’t clear,” Mark assures you, cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I just… I know you have that wild side, which is totally valid, I just wasn’t sure you were a settling down type.”

“I wasn’t so sure I was either, and then I met you.”

Mark kisses you instead of responding, but you can feel the emotion in the press of his lips against yours. He’s elated by what you’ve just said, and you’re close to floating to cloud nine too. 

Even so, there’s something else. You can feel it in the slight tension of his shoulders when your fingers brush over his skin.

“Mark?” you break the kiss, blinking at him. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“It’s just… I know I said there’s no pressure, but I really wanna help you cum. And I’ve been thinking maybe… maybe we could use some of your toys.”

“My toys?”

“Like… some girls cum better with a vibrator, and if you have one, I’d love to use it on you.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Lots of men think their dick is good enough, they feel emasculated to bring sex toys into the mix- but here’s Mark, being as contrarian as ever. 

“Even if it doesn’t help you cum, I still think it would be fun. I’m not trying to pressure you-”

“We can use my vibrator,” you assure him, heart thundering in your rib cage at the mere thought of it. 

No man has ever used a sex toy on you- it’s probably one of the reasons you’ve never cum with a lover before.

“Come on,” you sit up, heading to your bedroom while Mark follows. “I keep my toys in the closet,” you explain, bending down to find the shoe box that stores your vibrator. You pull the device out, showing it to Mark. “Is this going to work?”

“Yeah, it will work.” Mark watches you stand up, and he holds out his hand for you to pass the toy to him. “I’m uh… I’m gonna put this down so I can get you naked.”

“Okay,” you grin.

He sets the vibrator on your bed gently, turning to you. Mark grabs your face first, pulling you in for a kiss. He’s gentler than you thought he would be, but you don’t mind it. You like getting lost in the feeling of Mark, allowing him to guide you toward the bed.

When you reach your mattress, his hands slip down to the hem of your shirt. He carefully removes it, and you lift your arms to help him with the task. Mark doesn’t immediately go for your pants next, he kisses you again instead, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other grabs the small of your back.

His touch is so gentle, smoothing across your skin. It’s making you even more eager, and you find yourself removing his shirt before he begins to work on your sleep shorts. Soon, you’re just in a bra and panties, but even those get taken off. 

When you’re completely bare, Mark gently pushes you down onto your bed, eyes taking in your body.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he muses.

Your skin heats at the praise, and you begin to close your thighs, only for Mark to gently prompt them open. 

“Don’t hide from me, please,” Mark says softly, getting onto his knees at the foot of your bed. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your clit before he pushes his tongue into your wet hole.

You breathe a sigh of relief, threading your fingers through his hair. You adjust your thighs on his shoulders, trailing your toes against his well-defined back. 

He eats you out for a little while, groaning as he goes. It’s clear to you now that Mark enjoys getting his fill of you, and it makes the experience ten times more enjoyable for you. You’ve been getting better at slowing your mind while Mark licks at your clit, better at focusing on him and not all the worrying thoughts that generally buzz around you.

You feel the bed shift, and you open your eyes to see Mark has reached for the vibrator. He turns it on, assessing the way the toy shakes on the lowest setting. “Do you wanna show me where to use this, sunshine?” he asks, holding it out to you.

With a deep breath, you nod, accepting the toy and bringing it to your clit. “I like… a good amount of pressure,” you tell him, showing him exactly where you like the vibrator to be held.

It feels kind of odd to be pleasuring yourself like this in front of Mark, but from the way his pupils are blown, eyes fixed completely on your core, you can tell that he’s enjoying the view. It makes you feel more confident, as you begin to drag the vibrator side to side, teasing yourself. 

“This sort of movement is good too,” you tell him.

“Can I take over now?” he asks.

You nod, allowing him to grab the handle of the toy. 

Now that you’re not the one holding it, you can focus completely on the feeling of your clit being vibrated. It feels amazing, your toes curling at the stimulus.

Mark’s free hand is on your inner thigh, smoothing against your skin, but soon, it joins the vibrator. He teases two fingers along your folds before pushing them into you, crooking them up to find the spongey spot that has you crying out.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Mark tells you, applying more pressure to your clit with the vibe. “Fuck, I could watch you like this all night.”

“Puppy-” you whimper, skin tingling at his words.

“You have no idea how good you look,” he continues. “I swear- I want you to cum, but even if you don’t, I’m not going to be able to forget about this. This view is- fuck, it’s the best view in the world. We’re going to be at work and this is all I’ll be thinking about. I won’t be able to get you out of my head.”

With each admittance, each uttered word of praise, you can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach.

“Can you grind on this a little, sunshine? Grind on my fingers and your toy?”

“Yeah-” you whimper, hips moving as you try to follow with his prompt. 

“That’s it-” Mark groans. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

His fingers work harder inside of you, and the added pressure makes you squeal. You can’t help the way one of your arms comes up to cover your face, muffling your sounds as your body moves on it’s own accord now. You’re grinding against his hand, grinding against the vibrator that sends tremors of pleasure through your entire form.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” Mark tells you. “So lucky that you’re mine- I could watch you like this for hours and not get bored.”

“Mark-” you groan. Usually, when you acknowledge an orgasm building, it dissipates, like some cruel trick of fate, a complete defiance of the laws of physics- but this time, when you whimper “I’m close” the feeling doesn't fade, it only builds.

“Yeah?” Mark sounds shocked. “All it took was a vibe, huh?”

“And… and your praise-”

“You like when I talk dirty to you, sunshine?” Mark asks. “Like it when I tell you how perfect and pretty you are?”

“Yes-”

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Or should I finger fuck this cute little pussy even harder?”

“Oh my God-” you whimper. Mark has truly gotten comfortable with you now- he’s not holding back with his sinful words, and they make your stomach pull into a tight knot. “Please, harder-”

Mark presses the vibrator against your clit, turning up the vibration with his thumb while his fingers continue their brutal pace inside your core.

You find yourself gasping, unable to speak as he works you closer and closer-

“Cumming-” you whisper, your orgasm slamming into you like a train. 

Your breath catches, waves of pleasure surging through you. Your fists grip the sheets, your back arches, your thighs quaking around Mark. Whimpers and moans fill the room, your core pulsating around Mark’s fingers while he works you through your high.

“That’s it,” Mark groans. “That’s my good girl.”

“Puppy-” you breathe, the feeling almost becoming too much for you.

“What do you need, sunshine?”

“Your cock,” you blurt out. 

“Yeah?” Mark’s fingers slow inside your pussy. 

“Please, wanna cum on your cock-”

Mark lets out a breath. “Holy fuck.” He turns the vibrator off, taking his digits from your core. Mark licks them clean before he stands up, pushing down his sweatpants. “Move up the bed for me?” he suggests.

You wiggle up to the pillows, watching Mark get onto the mattress. He allows you to lock your legs around his hips, pulling him close while he crashes his lips to yours.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him deeply. He ruts his hips, allowing you to feel his cock dragging against your core.

Patience is a virtue, but you don’t have any left. You reach between your bodies, grabbing his hard length to line it up with your pussy. 

Mark slides into you, and you let out an immediate sigh of relief. His fingers had been nice, but his cock is even better. It stretches you open, you can feel him deeper than ever. You gasp against his mouth, dragging him closer as he begins to thrust into you. 

“You feel so good, sunshine,” Mark groans, breaking the kiss so he can press his lips to your throat. 

“Puppy-” you whimper, arching your neck so he has better access to find your sweet spot.

Mark captures your hands, lacing your fingers and pressing you into the bed while he fucks you. 

You can feel him everywhere. You’re completely bewitched by Mark Lee. Your core is practically dripping, each thrust made easy by the wet that exudes out of you. 

Then Mark is reaching for your vibrator. He sits up slightly, looking down at you. “Missionary? Or maybe doggy would be better?”

“I wanna see you when I cum again,” you tell him, accepting the vibrator he holds out to you. “Want you to see me cum with your cock in my pussy.”

Mark lets out a low groan, pressing his lips to yours as you turn on the toy, adjusting it onto your clit.

“If you can’t cum, that’s okay-”

“I think I’ll cum,” you assure him. “Just fuck me hard, and I’ll get there.”

“I can do that,” Mark grins, immediately picking up his pace and adding more power to his thrusts.

“And… tell me I’m pretty again?”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Mark groans. “I’m so fucking lucky- how did I ever get this lucky?”

“Puppy-”

“You have no idea how into you I am- I love your sounds, love your voice- love the face you make when you feel good- love your smile-”

Each admittance has your heart buzzing in your chest. It’s crazy how easy it is for him to praise you- it almost feels like all these things were built up inside, like he’s a dam that’s just been released, and God, you love the flood.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, entire body surging with energy. 

“You’re squeezing me so well, baby,” Mark groans, and the sound has your pussy throbbing. “Want you to cum with me so bad, do you think you can cum with me?”

“Yeah, just- kiss me?” you suggest.

Mark presses his lips to yours immediately, cupping your face with one hand. His tongue glides against your own. You eat up each other's sounds, getting completely lost in each other.

In no time at all, another orgasm is building in the pit of your stomach. 

“I’m gonna-” you whimper against his lips.

Mark fucks you even harder in response, and the motion is dizzying. 

“Please, sunshine, cum with me- fuck, I can’t hold it, cum with me-”

His words are your last straw as you explode on his cock. Your core clamps down hard, gasps of extacy escaping you.

To Mark’s credit, he holds off his own high long enough to fuck you through yours, and the moment you begin to be oversitmulated, he cums too. You can feel his cock throbbing in your pussy, his load spilling along your insides and coating your walls.

You kiss him deeply, enjoying his whimpers of pleasure.

You’ve never cum with someone balls deep inside of you before, and there’s a voice in the back of your mind itching for you to tell Mark that you love him- but you bite your tongue. You simply kiss him, holding him close while he finishes.

Finally, Mark lets out a small gasp, pulling away from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily.

You’ve never felt this connected to someone in your entire life.

“Are you going to get us tissues?” you ask after a moment, letting out a small laugh.

Mark chuckles, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “I just wanna enjoy you a second longer.”

“Puppy, you have literally all the time in the world.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I really wanted to kick the year off with something more realistic. I wanted to write about a reader who over thinks, who doesn’t cum super easily like we usually see in fanfic. I wanted to touch on the realism of relationships, the use of sex toys, things discussed in the bonus like whiskey dick, domestic showers together and troubles sleeping next to someone new- I really hope you guys liked this even though it’s not as classic fanfic as I usually write :) 

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “I drank too much,” Mark admits. “Hyuck kept egging me on- I’m pretty sure he wanted to get me blackout so I couldn’t fuck you tonight- But I swear- whisky dick won’t last all night,” Mark tells you. “And, I mean, you know I love using your toys so it doesn’t even matter.” He’s adorable. Of course Hyuck wouldn’t take into account that sometimes Mark is perfectly happy making you cum with your toys and not fucking you at all. Mark truly is a man built for your pleasure, and you’re not surprised that ‘whiskey dick’ hasn’t phased him.

cw/ tw. drunk!Mark, shower shenanigans, fingering, pussy eating, use of toys/g spot stimulator, Mark has ‘whiskey dick’ and can’t get hard at first, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, munch!Mark, creampie/fullness kink, etc…  I petnames. (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 starring. Mark x afab!Reader

bonus

“Puppy?” You sit up in bed, holding your phone close. Mark’s at some boys night thing, and you really hadn’t expected to hear from him, but here he is, calling you at midnight.

“Hi, Sunshine.” 

“Hi Sunshine!” Someone else screams in the background.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Hyuck!” Mark yells back. “Not you, baby, I’m talking to Hyuck.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, “I gathered that.”

You’ve also gathered that your boyfriend is drunk. You can hear it in his voice, and when he begins to hiccup, it’s even more evident.

“So uh, I wanna see you.”

“You can see me tomorrow, we have dinner plans, right?”

“No, I wanna see you tonight and tomorrow,” Mark insists. 

“You do, huh?” God, he’s adorable.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t you want to finish boys night?” you prompt, not wanting to get in the way of his time with friends. You know Jeno would get mad about Mark spending time with his ex instead of his boys, and you don’t want to be that girlfriend who restricts her lover from his bros.

“Nah, fuck this,” Mark says. “Jeno went home with a girl, it’s just me and Hyuck and Renjun and Chenle and Jaemin and Jisung-” Sweet Jesus, he’s listing half of your work staff. “But I wanna be with you. I can call a cab and be at your place in like, fifteen minutes?”

“Whatever you want, puppy,” you grin. “I’ll be here.”

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