#i just wanted really to. think about the way that angel used to be because it's meant to be very different as to how she is now

[withlovemark]

“SORRY, HEART”

pairing: fwb! mark lee x tutor! reader | genre: rom-com | words: 29k+

synopsis -> sex helps him focus. focus he needs for your tutoring sessions. it was a win-win for mark lee when you proposed to add a stress-relief session to the schedule. the favorite fuckboy and the girl who doesn’t believe in love equals the ultimate friends with benefits set-up. it’s the perfect dream team! but uh oh…it seems like mark has been shot by cupid’s arrow. will mark survive all of your attempts at pushing him away?

warnings -> grab the tissues! (can be used for multiple reasons) pet name unlocked: kitten, so much dialogue, they’re both yappers, mentions of: periods, reader has avoidant-attachment issues, a little toxic, a lot broken, mark is so down bad it hurts me, angst, +18, crude language, fuckboys, a party, alcohol, starts off with a lot of smut! edging!!!, mark whines and whimpers and cries, oral (m+f), he loves eating pussy, nipple-play, fingering, blow-job, sex on the desk, rough sex, soft sex, unprotected sex, reader is on the pill, sensory play, overstimulation, a fake orgasm, mentions of: period sex, masturbation (m).

an -> third installment of the loverboy series is yours! i did so much research for this holy shit (shoutout to quizlet, friends with benefits, prom-pact and ariana grandes: eternal sunshine album). i don’t know anything about advanced music theory or history please i got it all off quizlet. if it’s wrong, do not come for me! important things to note -> you do not have to read stupid cupid or flying kiss to understand this story but 1) mark is the favorite fuckboy. he’s very upfront. tells you what he wants from the beginning, never leaving you doubting his actions. 2) jeno and bunny’s story is simultaneously happening 3) jaemin and his gf, angel, are happily together. have fun reading! with love, c.

“i don’t feel it,” your voice bites through the night air, cold and detached.

“i don’t love you.” you add with absolutely no remorse, just the tired truth of someone who stopped believing in happy endings a long time ago.

mark can’t help but think back to how exactly he got here — watching you walk away with the heart you shattered into a million pieces, drowning in the silence, wondering how he ever thought he could be the one to change your mind.

ᓚᘏᗢ one month ago. april 2. wednesday.

mark bursts into the study room like he was being chased, slightly out of breath and as usual, thirty minutes late to your tutoring sessions. you didn’t even bother looking up from your notes.

“you’re late. again.” you said flatly, highlighting a passage in the textbook as if his presence didn’t affect your mood at all. it did. the wasted time makes your irritation grow sharper. it was only three days of the week and he still couldn't show up on time.

“sorry, was busy,” he said, running a hand through his mess of dark hair, lipstick stain on his neck, smelling like cheap perfume and sex.

you arched your eyebrow, “that’s the third time, mark.”

he offers an apologetic smile, dropping into the chair across from you, pulling out his notebook, “i know, i know, she just…took longer to finish.”

you slammed your highlighter down, “just because i’m your friend doesn’t mean you can completely act unprofessional,” you roll your eyes, “this is my time you’re wasting too.”

he looked at you, your signature eyeliner and maroon lips making you look sharper, meaner, ready to pounce at any minute.

a mixture of guilt and fear flickers briefly across his features before he sighed and slumped forward, “y/n, i’m sorry. really. it just helps with the stress you know? clears my head so i can focus.”

“mark,” you leaned in “is your sex life really more important than your three failing classes?,” you remind him of the reason why you were here in the first place. he doesn’t respond and the silence was answer enough. you look at him, brain already calculating ways to solve this problem, until you got to one conclusion — it’s a ridiculous idea but it would be the most effective.

“fine,” you said, tapping your pen against the table, “we can have sex,” you propose.

mark whipped his head towards you like you’ve just grown two heads, “what?!”

you shrugged like it was the most normal suggestion in the world, “i can’t have you missing another session, you need to pass these classes,” you reason. “i have a 100% success rate mark, i’m not letting you ruin that because you need to get your dick wet…so show up earlier, we add a stress relief session then start tutoring right away,” you explain like you’ve been thinking about this the whole week.

mark chuckles, an eyebrow raised. sounds like a pretty great plan to him — too great…actually.

“what’s the catch?,” he asks, eyeing you suspiciously, elbow on the table as he leaned towards you.

“no catch, i just have one rule” you smirk, pointing a finger up. he nods, urging you to go on.

“you can’t sleep with anyone else,” you say simply.

this makes him laugh.

“i don’t go exclusive, y/n.”

“please,” you scoff, “i don’t want to date you mark,” you say clearly, “i just don’t want to catch a disease.”

you were very aware of mark’s title — everyone’s favorite fuckboy, leader of the dream fraternity, co-captain of the university’s basketball team and can play guitar. everyone wants a piece of him. and almost everyone has gotten a piece of him.

“i’m clean!,” he argued, looking offended.

“yeah? for how long?,” you shot back, a teasing smirk on your face.

he exhaled, raking a hand through his hair, “fine…then i get to add a rule too.”

“that’s fair, what’s your rule?,” you ask.

“you can’t fall in love with me.” a smirk on his lips.

this makes you laugh.

“well, isn’t your lucky day, mark lee,” you say with a sly smile, “i don’t believe in love.”

he studied you for a moment, confusion flickering behind his eyes, a subtle memory from freshman year playing in his mind until the smile on his face faded into something quieter, “i’m serious, y/n,” he says with conviction.

you raise a brow, “and i’m serious too mark…the day i fall in love is the day money starts raining from the sky.”

he watches you then lets out a short laugh, “okay, just wanted to be clear,” he nods, a grin creeping in, “so…friends with benefits then?”

“exactly,” you hold your hand, “deal?”

mark laughs before accepting it, sealing the deal with a firm handshake, “deal.”

without warning, you yank him towards you, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that steals his breath — it’s quick, sharp, deliberate. before he can respond, before he can even think about deepening it, you’ve already pulled away, a smirk on your lips as you start packing your things in your bag.

“this room’s only reserved for an hour and you just wasted it,” you say over your shoulder.

“my apartment. friday. 6PM. if you’re late we’re going straight to studying.” you warn him before leaving him there feeling like he just won the lottery.

it was the perfect situation for him — he’ll pass his classes and get to have sex without having to do all the extra work of chatting up a girl and trying to impress them just to get in their pants. it hasn’t even started yet and he already felt like a winner.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 4. friday.

mark knocks on your door at exactly 6:00 pm on friday evening. his backpack hung on his shoulder.

“huh…so you can arrive on time,” you tease, leaning on your apartment’s door.

“what can i say? i’m stressed and i need to be relieved,” he shrugs, a childish grin on his lips.

“alright, come on,” you grab his arm, dragging him past your living room and straight to your room.

“so…how do we do this?,” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck as he steps inside, standing in your room awkwardly, backpack still on his shoulder. he looks around, noticing your bare walls and how everything seemed to be neat and organized.

“what? sex? aren’t you supposed to be the expert?,” you quip, raising an eyebrow in amusement, snapping his attention back to you.

he rolls his eyes, “well usually, i flirt with the girl first before i get in their pants,” he reasons.

“nu-uh, we don’t have time for that,” you cut in, pulling your shirt over your head, leaving you in your red lacy bra and the tiny black pajama shorts that hung low on your waist.

mark’s eyes widen slightly, glint with amusement, unabashedly checking you out, “dang dude, you’re fucking sexy.”

“is that how you talk to every girl you’re about to have sex with?,” you chuckle.

“that’s how i talk to my friends,” he smirks, earning a snort from you.

“are you gonna take off your clothes or are you just gonna keep gawking?,” you tease, lips curled into a smirk. mark rolls his eyes, finally setting his backpack down by the edge of your bed and removing both his t-shirt and sweats with ease, leaving him in his black boxers, still standing across from you — it was your turn to check him out. he’s lean, more toned than you expected, abs on display, the outline of his cock prominent through his boxers.

“nice,” you mutter, making him raise a brow in amusement. in one smooth motion, you slide down your shorts and unhook your bra, tossing it to the side somewhere as you stood proud and tall, in your red matching panties, not shying away from his gaze.

your confidence (tits) draws him in, stepping forward, closing the distance. both his hands come up immediately, cupping your breasts, thumbs grazing smoothly over your nipples with open fascination. you hitch your breath, the sensation of his fingertips making your pussy clench around nothing.

mark almost can’t believe what’s happening right now, “this is silly,” he breathes out, a light chuckle slipping past his lips, his hands still massaging your boobs.

“my boobs?,” you ask flatly, a little offended.

“no, your boobs are great, dude,” he says quickly, “i meant this situation is silly, i’ve never had sex with a friend before,” he says, still rolling your nipples in between his fingertips.

“you can always back out, we can skip this and go straight to tutoring,” you say, giving him a chance to change his mind.

he lets out a dry chuckle, eyes flicking down between you, “y/n, you’re kidding right? my dick is hard as shit and i’m playing with your boobs…we’re not going straight to fucking tutoring.”

you grin, biting back a laugh, “i’m very aware that you’re playing with my boobs and if you don’t plan on fucking the shit out of me in the next minute, i’m putting my clothes back on,” you warn him.

he doesn’t wait for a second warning. his boxers hit the floor and you follow suit, slipping your underwear to the ground. grabbing a condom out of his wallet, he rolls it on smoothly. then, with no hesitation, he makes his way back to you, lifting you off the ground. mark was a lot stronger than you thought he was, picking you up like you were as light as a feather. your back hits your mattress with a bounce as he hovers over you, eyes dark with intent, that devilish, childish grin sitting on his lips.

then his mouth crashes onto yours in an instant, messy and hungry. the kind of kiss that’s all teeth and heat and no hesitation. you tug on his hair, eliciting a groan from him, urging him closer as your tongue meets, battling for dominance. his hands are everywhere, gripping your thighs, hips, waist like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin.

“hurry up mark, you’re on the clock,” you pant, fire curling low in your belly.

“you said fuck the shit out of you right?,” he growls against your throat, voice low, barely restrained.

“if you can,” you tease, challenging him to pick up the pace.

he was tired of the mocking. mark aligns himself against your entrance and with no warning, no gentleness, he slams into you with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs — the stretch was delicious, filled with pain from the lack of foreplay, groans bouncing off of each other’s mouths, “fuuck y/n, you feel insane” he grunts as he thrusts with a rhythm that makes the bed squeak.

you wrapped your legs around him, forcing him in even deeper, harder, pussy sucking him perfectly as you calculatingly start clenching impossibly tight for him, “h-holy shit,” he groans, sweat dripping from his temple, “-quit doing that,” mark warns but doesn’t relent his unforgiving pace, chasing the edge like he’s starving for it.

all the while, you just wanted him to get there – the faster he finishes, the faster you can start tutoring. your hands wander throughout his body, leaving goosebumps all throughout his skin until they land on his nipples, you rub him until he was whining and groaning against your mouth, “fuck-mm close,” he manages to say in between his heavy pants, “me too,” you lie.

the pleasure in your stomach was building but you weren’t at all close to the finish line.

“yeah?,” he hisses, thrusts getting messier and messier as he fights back the urge to cum, waiting for you. his lips latch on to your neck, licking and kissing.

you decide to end his torment, “i’m cumming,” you announce, exaggeratedly, forcing yourself to clench around him as much as you can, watching him topple over. he grunts beside your ear, his release finally taking over as he spills into the condom.

“oooh, yeahh,” you moan, faking your orgasm as you push him off of you and into the bed beside you.

mark barely has a moment to catch his breath, chest still heaving from his orgasm, when he turns sharply toward you, narrowing his eyes, “wait…did you just fake it?,” he asks, feeling betrayed.

“uhh, no,” you mutter out, focusing on the ceiling, pretending to catch your breath.

mark shuffles beside you, clearly unconvinced, “that’s not how girls cum, y/n”

“that’s how i cum!,” you argue and mark shakes his head. he wasn’t stupid. he’s been with enough ladies to know that that was a fake orgasm.

he shakes his head, frowning, “no way, i feel like i just used you,” he says, the words leave a sour taste in his mouth — mark never leaves a lady unsatisfied, which is the reason why he kept on showing up late to the past three tutoring sessions. it doesn’t matter how long it takes, he’s not leaving the bed until they are done…until you are done. it’s a point of pride. call it ego or decency but either way, he doesn’t half-ass pleasure. how else do you think he got the title of the favorite?

“it’s fine mark, we need to start our session,” you say, sitting up. but before you could get further, mark tugs you back into the pillows.

your eyes widen in slight shock, “what are you doing?”

“pretty sure friends with benefits means were both benefiting,” he smirks, “i’m not moving on until you cum,” eyes glittering with playful determination, earning an eye roll from you.

“we don’t have time for this,” you scoff, trying to push him away. but he was a lot stronger than you, grabbing your hands and pinning you down the mattress.

“give me ten minutes,” he says, voice low. you look at him amused, “you think you can make me cum in ten minutes?,” you mock, an eyebrow going up.

“just shut up and reap the benefit,” he bites back as he starts trailing kisses down your neck, leaving no room for arguments.

“no hickeys, mark,” you warn him. he ignores you but doesn’t leave a mark anyways, lips trailing lower and lower, stopping for a moment to suck on your nipples, your back arching towards him. he takes a mental note of the way your body immediately responds every time he gets near your breasts.

that familiar pleasure starts to pool in your core again, unmistakable and creeping in fast. and when your hands go lax in his grip, he knew he won this time. he looks up at you with an amused glint in his eyes, hands slowly letting go of your wrists as he let them roam all over your body, mouth still worshipping your breasts, watching your every reaction, taking note of your satisfied little hums, the softs gasps and the way your lips part unconsciously.

he travels lower and lower, tongue leaving a warm, wet path behind. then, he pauses “hmm, what’s this?,” his fingers ghost over the tiny artwork placed on the right side of your hip, just above your underwear line.

“a cat.”

“cute,” he says with a grin, kissing over your tattoo, “why a cat?”

“i don’t know, i was drunk,” you were growing impatient, the frustration was getting to you. you’re pretty sure he’s already used up half of his ten minutes. now’s not the time for small talk.

“hurry up, mark,” you say, taking matters into your own hands and pushing his head lower – exactly where you needed him.

mark chuckles, the warmth of his breath making your thighs twitch, “feisty,” he teases, “the cat is fitting.” you’re ready to fire back with a smart remark but the words get caught in your throat when he slowly licks a strip between your folds.

“mmm, you taste so fucking sweet,” he praises, kitten-licking in between your folds before finally dragging his tongue up to your clit, swirling around the sensitive bud. a moan slips from your lips, all thoughts of tutoring and snarky comebacks dissolve, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his tongue lapping against you.

you haven’t been eaten out in so long, your last and only boyfriend absolutely hated going down on you and the other one night stands you had never seemed like they knew what they were doing – always leaving you to finish what they started.

mark settles comfortably between your thighs, his eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss as he continues sucking, licking, spitting, completely consumed with the kind of hunger that makes it feel like he’s the one being pleasured. your hips instinctively move, grinding against his face as you tried to reach the high that was slowly but surely building inside you, “fuckk mark, f-feels so good,” you whine against his touch.

you feel him smirk against your clit before he slides two fingers in, following the curve of your pussy, learning the way your body molds. his mouth doesn’t stop, still locked onto your sensitive bud, sucking with relentless precision. and as soon as he found that spot, you can't help but shut your eyes in pleasure.

“oh goddd, mark,” you cry out, your body arching off the bed, head flat against your sheets as your fingers made it’s way to his hair, lightly tugging, making sure he stays exactly where he is. he lifts your legs over his shoulders, adjusting his angle, pushing his fingers in deeper as his mouth continues its worship. he eats you out like a man starved, the noises of your juices squelching filling up the room and it felt so, so good.

you can feel the heat rising through your body. mixtures of ragged pants and high-pitched moans tumbling out of your lips helplessly as the tension coils tighter and tighter inside you. then his free hand slides up to your torso, pinching your nipple just enough to tip you over the edge, completely at his mercy, “fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, im cumming, im cumming,” you gasp, repeating it like a prayer, fingers digging into the sheets until you’re knuckles were white, trying to ground yourself on something. your orgasm completely washes over you, body trembling as you were left gasping for air, jaw slacked, eyes rolled back, toes curled.

mark doesn’t let up, drawing out every aftershock until you’re twitching, overstimulated. you push his head away and only then does he pull back – grinning, breathless, face decorated with your slick.

“now that’s how girl’s cum,” he says proudly, licking his fingers clean, looking smug as hell.

you roll your eyes, trying to snap out of the haze, “you said ten minutes, that was definitely longer.”

“whatever kitten, we still have twenty minutes left of the tutoring session,” he smirks.

“kitten?,” you repeat, confused.

“it’s fitting right?,” he shrugs. you shake your head, reaching for your clothes with a playful scoff, ignoring the way your legs still feel like jelly. twenty minutes was not enough time but you grabbed the flashcards you had meticulously prepared earlier anyway.

“fine…time for music theory,” you say as mark groans dramatically beside you.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 6. sunday.

mark: wyd? come to the dream fraternity party

kitten: can’t. busy.

mark: but i need to relieve stress…

kitten: mark, it’s only been two days.

mark: yeah two days too long 😩

kitten: we’re literally seeing each other tomorrow

mark: why are you blue balling me? 🤕💔

kitten: im not. you can still use your hand! 🤗

mark: it doesn’t feel as good ☹️ not warm enough ☹️

kitten: go heat up a sock and figure it out 🫶

mark: are you sure that rule of yours is final? a really hot girl just walked in and my dick is pointing towards her direction 👀🍆🥵

kitten: go ahead 🙂‍↕️

mark: bro, really???

kitten: yep! but don’t expect to get your dick anywhere near me tomorrow 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark: nvm 😑

kitten: see you tomorrow 😇

mark begrudgingly walks up the stairs, ignoring all the girls who were glancing his way. he can’t risk it, the deal had just started and yesterday was too fun to spoil — settling into his sheets, he pumped himself up and down until he was spilling into his hand.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 7. monday.

when mark walked into your apartment, he was ready to pounce, eyes already scanning you like you were his favorite dessert. but he stopped short, confusion flickering across his face – you were wearing layers upon layers, “uhmm, you do know it’s spring right?,” he says.

“i know,” you say, a playful smile on your lips as you lead him towards your bedroom.

“so what’s with all the extra layers?,” he trails behind you, suspicious.

“we’re gonna play a game,” you say simply.

“noo, y/n, the deal was i get here, we have mind blowing sex, then we study,” he groans.

“yeah, well that didn’t work out last time,” you point out, remembering the fact that it took the two of you almost the entire session just to finish, “so i decided, we’re gonna mix the two together,” you finish, a sly smile on your lips.

“what’s the game?,” he narrows his eyes, though he can’t deny the excitement bubbling in him.

“for every question you get right, i take off a piece of clothing,” you say, explaining the rules, “and for every question you get wrong, you remove one of yours.”

he perks up immediately, spark dancing in his eyes. mark loves a good game. loves it even more when he wins — he sits at the edge of your bed, already looking far too cocky for someone who’s about to get mentally grilled. you sat on your computer chair across from him, flashcards in hand and fully clothed.

“alright, i’ll start off easy,” you begin, flipping through the flashcards you barely used during the last session, “what’s a major key with 6 flats?”

he laughs, “please, a G flat.”

“correct,” you nod, peeling off the scarf around your neck and dropping it to the floor. mark smirks. if all of your questions were this easy, you were going to be naked in no time.

“next, what do you do to write an aeolian scale?.”

“you use the natural minor of the note given,” he says with ease, relaxed and confident.

“lucky guess,” you mutter, slowly removing your cardigan.

“i’m not that clueless,” he explains, finding it all amusing. his eyes dropping to the now visible thin tank top you were sporting.

“then why are you failing three of your classes?,” you shot back.

“because the assignments are dumb and i don’t have time to do them, i already know how to apply them in real life,” he shrugs, “why do i need to know all these terms?”

you study him for a second, “mark, you can’t expect to skip steps and magically pass all of your classes,” you say.

“yeah, i’m learning that the hard way,” he pauses, his shoulders tense, the stress catching up to him once again, “now ask the next one so i can suck on your tits,” he smirks.

you roll your eyes, asking the next question anyway, “in scale degrees, major scales, what are the augmented triads?”

“trick question,” he smirks, “there are none.”

“correct,” you smile at him, removing one sock.

“you’re taking off one sock?? that barely counts!,” he groans like a spoiled child.

you shrug innocently, “still clothing.”

he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “okay fine, give me the next one.”

you raise your eyebrow, “what’s a hemiola?”

mark frowns, racking his brain for an answer, “uhhh…”

you grin, tapping your foot.

“something about a repeating melodic phrase representing a theme?,” he asks, head turned like a curious puppy.

“wrong. thats a leitmotif,” you correct him, “shirt’s off, mark lee.” he groans but obeys, tugging it over his head. you do your best not to stare too hard at his abs but he catches you.

“define consonance and give an example,” you grin wickedly.

“seriously?” he asks. “this is cruel.”

“take off your pants if you can’t answer,” you tease him. he mutters under his breath about how unfair this was before his pants come sliding off, leaving him in his boxers.

“what is a long note divided into shorter, usually melodic, values?,” you continue, holding up the next card.

“oh! i know that one, it’s a diminution,” he says proudly. you remove your other sock.

he narrows his eyes, “you’re cheating.”

“nope. you’re just losing,” you tease.

you flash the next card, “alright, what is existing or occurring within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?”

“...i hate you,” he mutters as he gives up on pretending to answer, accepting defeat and sliding off his boxers. his semi hard cock on display.

you laugh, fully dressed except for the missing cardigan and socks, “awee, look at you…all naked and we’re barely halfway.”

mark glares, though there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, “this is the most academically humiliating foreplay i’ve ever experienced.”

you laugh, “where is the tenor clef sign located?,”you give him an easy one, knowing that he needs to have motivation to keep going.

“one space above the alto clef,” he says. you hum, pleased, stripping off your leggings, showing off the white lacy underwear you wore just for him. his eyes drop instantly to the undeniable wet spot of your arousal and you part your legs slightly, inviting him, teasing.

“you sick little, kitten,” he swallows, “this is actually turning you on?,” he asks, mildly confused and little turned on.

“what can i say? i love humiliating men,” you smirk, earning an eye roll from him, “what’s a cluster?”

“a chord consisting of at least three adjacent notes of a scale,” he answers, voice low, tense. more determined now to get the answers correct.

“good boy” you purr, lifting the tank top over your head, that little praise makes his mind go absolutely crazy, his cock twitching. your sheer white bra does nothing to hide your hardened nipples and mark fights back the urge to pull you into his lap and fuck you senseless, his boner getting harder within each passing second, restraint visibly cracking.

“define neoclassicism,” you ask, voice steady, brows raised.

mark blinks, then answers slowly, “uhh a general revival or interest in classical cultures and usage of themes and styles from ancient greece and rome?”

you look up at him, impressed, “can’t believe all it takes is wanting to see my tits to get you this focused,” you grin, unclasping your bra and tossing it right into his lap. he catches it midair, eyes instantly zeroing in on your now bare-chest. you roll your chair closer to him, spreading your legs and placing them on either side of him, effectively caging him in. mark’s breath hitches – it was getting real hot in here and he was fully naked.

he reaches for your breast but you slap his hand away, “touch me and the session ends. we’re done.” you warn — having control turns you on more than you care to admit. the way his eyes darken but obeys anyway. the tension practically pulsing between your bodies. he looked so small in between your legs and it makes you want to break him even more.

“hurry up and give me the next one,” he mutters, jaw tight, trying his hardest to keep his hands to himself. it was torture. having a sexy half-naked girl right in front of him and not being able to do anything about it. your breasts were on full display, sitting prettily on your chest, your panties were practically dripping and he wanted nothing more but to taste you. wanted nothing more than to hear you moaning under him once again — you were a cruel vision of pleasure he’s not allowed to touch.

“a phrygian is which degree for the key?”

“uhh fifth?,” he guesses.

“wrong,” you say, lips curling in amusement. he groans, cock twitching.

“a mixolydian is which degree for the key?”

“third!,” he tries this time.

“wrong again,” you say, nearly laughing now. his patience was starting to blur. he’s one wrong answer away from losing his mind and you’re relishing every second of it – enjoying every grunt that passes his lips. his cock twitching so close to your core, making you clench.

“you got them mixed up,” you correct him before asking the next question, “a lydian is which degree for the key?”

he groans. he was barely holding on. he shuts his eyes, pausing, taking a minute to think about it, “...fourth?”

you lean in, voice silk and smoke, “are you asking me or are you telling me, mark lee?”

“i-i’m telling you,” he says, voice shaking with the amount of restraint he was trying to hold on to. you were so close now, heat practically radiating off of you. you smirk up at him, tossing the flashcards to the side and smashing your lips on his. he responds immediately. lips chasing yours, urgently and needy.

“correct,” you whisper in between the kiss. his hands immediately latch under your thighs as he pulls you into his lap. you feel the hot, hard press of his cock against your soaked underwear.

“take these damn panties off,” you murmur against his ear. he grunts as his fingers slide beneath the lace, pulling down the last barrier between you.

“fuuckk, you’re dripping for me,” he praises, dragging his fingers through your slick, rubbing up and down your folds before sliding two deep inside of you, making you moan against his lips. this time, his fingers immediately find that spot that makes your toes curl.

“r-right there, mark…d-don’t stop,” you whine, the tension between you rising as your hips start riding his digits, matching the rhythm of his fingers curling inside you. each thrust sends sparks through your belly, pressure building fast. his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast but precise circles that have your head falling back, the grip on his shoulders tightening as you continue to bounce on his fingers. his lips close around your nipples, tongue flicking, sucking furiously, drawing out the high you can’t hold back — your orgasm came crashing down embarrasingly fast, leaving you breathless.

“can’t believe humiliating me got you this fucking soaked,” he smirks, breath hot against your skin, “you’re such a dirty girl, kitten,” he teases, licking his fingers clean. before you can recover, he flips you over with practiced ease, ass up and back arched just the way he likes it. you hear the familiar crinkle of foil as he tears open the condom wrapper, then feel the thick heat of him pressing against your entrance before he slides in, deep, the stretch making your teeth clench — the wait was worth it. you were so wet for him…so warm he almost busted as soon as he entered.

“you’re cumming on my cock this time,” he growls, determined, as he adjusts his member, searching for the angle that makes you scream. as soon as he found it, his fingers dig into your hips, thrusting into you from behind, sharp and relentless, your face pressing down on the sheets as the slap of skin echoes throughout the room.

this new angle hits you perfectly, “f-feels so good,” you manage to gasp, voice shaking with every snap of his hips as your hands continue to grip the sheets for stability, moans growing louder with each movement.

he growls in response as he leans over your back, lips brushing your ear, “this what you wanted, kitten?, to tease me until i snapped?” you can barely form words, nodding helplessly, body jolting forward with the force of each thrust. his hand snakes around to press against your lower belly, holding you still as he drives deeper, harder, making sure that you can’t fake anything this time.

“cum,” he demands, his breath hot against your neck as he starts sucking on your shoulder, “cum all over my cock.”

“fuck mark–i’m so close!,” you cry out, voice cracking under the pleasure, building fast and unforgiving. your knees feel weak beneath you but his grip keeps you grounded, keeps you exactly where he wants you. sweat sticks to both of your bodies now, the heat almost unbearable. then, without warning, he pulls you up, your spine arching as he pressed you against his chest. one arm wraps around you tightly, holding you in place while the other dips between your thighs, fingers finding your swollen clit, circling in perfect sync with the relentless thrust of his hips.

“c’mon, kitten” he breathes against your neck, voice low and rough, “give me another one,” he grunts. you cry out, whimpering, overwhelmed — your release finally taking over as breathless whines of his name slip from your lips.

you came all over his cock, body jerking in his arms, head falling back against his shoulder. mark holds you through it, grinding deep inside, chasing his own release with a sharp muffled groan against your skin. for a moment the room is nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and the faint creak of the mattress, savoring your shared orgasms until he finally pulls out, flopping backwards onto the bed with a satisfied sigh, arm draped over his eyes. you let yourself melt into the pillows, limbs heavy and boneless, chest still rising and falling in the aftermath. he lies beside you, chest glistening with sweat, rising with each breath.

“well,” mark pants, breaking the silence, “if we keep studying like this, i’m definitely passing all of my classes with an A+”

you laugh breathlessly, turning your head to the sound of his voice, “A+ huh? that’s bold of you.”

“please,” he says, cracking one eye open to look at you, “you saw me, I was focused, determined…inspirational,” he exaggerates, a playful smile on his lips.

“you got half of the questions wrong,” you point out, “we’re far away from an A+,” you tease.

he smirks, “fine by me, that just means more tutoring sessions,” he throws you a wink and you roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

you kick him out of your apartment as soon you both calm down, mark leaving completely satisfied. this is, by far, the greatest deal he has ever had to make.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 9. wednesday.

you sat cross-legged on the bed, flashcards in hand, watching mark settle into your desk chair with boyish excitement written all over his face. he leaned back, arms draped lazily over the armrests. you weren’t wearing a ridiculous amount of layers today, which meant he was going to be able to fuck you faster than last time.

“so,” you begin, flipping through the stack, “today’s game is a little different.”

his brows lift in curiosity, an eager smile playing at his lips. of course it was. he should’ve known you always came with surprises. always keeping him on his toes.

“for every question you get right,” you say, pausing just for dramatic effect, “i suck your dick.”

mark’s eyes widen a little too fast, the thought of your mouth around his cock so appealing. this was going to be too easy, “you’re joking?,” he breaks into a smug grin.

“i’m not,” you smirk, making your way over to him and sinking to your knees in front of him. you look up, expression all wide eyes and faux innocence. he knows better by now. “but don’t get cocky,” you warn, smirking as you settle between his legs, “i’m not moving if the answer is wrong.”

that wipes the grin off his face, just a little, “i’m not getting any of them wrong.” he came prepared this time, actually paying attention in class and reviewing his notes in order to be able to be rewarded by you.

you chuckle as you tug his sweats down, revealing his already semi hard cock, “no underwear?,” you asked, an amused smile on your face.

“why bother?,” he shrugs, a chuckle leaving his lips. with no warning, your fingers wrap around his member, stroking slowly, giving him a preview of what’s to come — mark immediately groans at your touch, head tipping back slightly at the sensation of your warm hands, cock already twitching in your hand. you looked so tiny around him and he’s already struggling to keep his composure. then your tongue glides along the side of his shaft, slow and deliberate, before swirling around the tip, collecting his leaking precum. the taste lingers on your tongue as you look up at him through your eyelashes. he was too relaxed, too comfortable, eyes focused on you with a smug on his lips. without breaking eye contact, you take the tip of his now fully hard cock into your mouth, sucking gently. it earns a low grunt from deep in his chest, his thighs tensing beneath your hands, but just when he leans into the sensation, you pull away completely, lips slipping off him with a soft pop.

frustration flashes across his face as you casually reach over and grab the stack of flashcards beside you and he’s reminded that this was the game. perhaps, this is not as easy as he thought it was going to be. he sighs in defeat and all you do is wave the flashcard lazily in your hand, eyes glinting with mischief. mark sits up straighter, his dick incredibly hard and throbbing in front of you, twitching with every passing second.

“alright,” you begin, voice sweet, innocent and absolutely lethal, “what is existing within the world of a narrative rather than as something external to that world?,” you repeat the question he got wrong last time.

mark squints, trying to focus, despite the way your fingers are slowly tracing circles on his inner thigh, not quite touching him. “diegetic or source music,” he answers. you raise an eyebrow, impressed, a hum of approval slipping past your lips.

“correct.” before he can smirk, you lean forward again, lips wrapping around him once more, this time a little deeper. his head falls back instantly, a low grown escaping. you suck him in slow and warm, letting the reward sink in and just as he starts to melt, you pull away again with a soft gasp of air, reaching for the next card like nothing happened.

he looks down at you, flustered, chest rising faster, “kitten, you’re insane.”

you flash him a dangerous smile, “define mickey-mousing.”

he doesn’t answer right away, jaw tight, trying to stay focused while his cock stands there, glistening and so so hard. “a film technique that syncs the accompanying music with the actions on screen,” he says, breathing hard.

“look at you, actually paying attention,” you tease before leaning in again, placing a kiss to his tip, taking him once again, just a little deeper, a little wetter. his whole body shudders and he mutters something that sounds like a prayer. you were only three flashcards in. he doesn’t know how much of this edging he could take. he hopes, god, he hopes he knew all the answers. when you let go again, you smile sweetly, tapping the next card against his thigh, making him clench slightly.

“what are the notes of a D major triad?” — “D, F, A,” he manages to say.

“hmm, wrong, those are the notes of D minor triad,” you correct him, leaving his cock neglected as you sit back on your heels, folding your hands in your lap. “no mouth for wrong answers,” you tease as he groans, head falling back dramatically.

“you’re actually evil, kitten.”

you only smile, reaching for another card. he glares at you like a man on the verge of a breakdown, “hurry up, i'm going to die.”

you ignore him, “list all major intervals,” you ask, resting your elbow on his knee like this is the most casual game of flashcards in the world. like his dick wasn’t right in front of your tits — the image has his cock twitching extra hard. he had to get this one correct. he racks his brain for the answers, recalling what he learned in class.

“it’s major second, major third, major sixth and major seventh,” he answers shakily.

your hand curls around the base of his cock again, making him suck in a sharp breath “correct,” you take him in all over again. he exhales hard, threading his fingers into your hair, grounding himself. you’re slower this time, deliberate and precise, letting the praise build in your mouth just like the tension between you. he did give you four correct answers. when his hand tighten a little too hard, you pull off again.

“fucckk, i hate this,” he whines shakily.

“scale the degrees in order,” you smirk.

“tonic, supertonic, mediant, subdominant, dominant, submediant, leading tone,” he answers quickly, determined, voice breathless with need.

“wow…all correct,” you say, a light shock in your tone and a proud smile tugging at your lips. he doesn’t even get a second to bask in it before your mouth is on him again, wet, warm, perfect. he moans, hips twitching up slightly and you let him, just for a second. the reward is intoxicating. and you have half the mind to continue sucking him until he was writhing under your touch. but you pull away once more, wiping your lips with a devilish smile.

“alright, next one,” you say cheerily, like this is all just a friendly trivia night.

mark looks like he might cry.

“why are you doing this to me?,” he gasps.

“don’t act like you don’t like it,” you say, “besides it’s working, you’ve only missed one question so far,” you say proudly.

“yeah, because i’ll literally die if i miss another,” he whines — this went on for a good thirty minutes more. mark only getting a couple wrong, until you were down to your last flashcards and he was teetering at the edge. ready to bust every single time you put your mouth on him but not quite getting there.

his cock is so red, throbbing, leaking to the point it hurts. a couple drops messily on his thigh, a couple on his stomach but never enough to reach his full release. there were tears streaking down his cheeks, his lips quivering. he was absolutely gutted. absolutely vulnerable.

“what’s the natural minor scale pattern?” — “minor diminished major minor minor major major,” he answers, getting the words out as quickly as possible.

this time, instead of wrapping your mouth around him, you reached for the condom you had ready, sitting pretty on your desk, anticipating this moment. his breath hitches as you tear the wrapper open with your teeth, wrapping it on his hard cock, mark practically growling under your touch. you smile sweetly, removing your shorts and crawling into his lap, knees pressing into either side of his hips. the heat of your soaked underwear brushing against his cock makes him hiss through his teeth.

he can’t take it anymore.

“what are the chromatic intervals?” — “minor, diminished and augmented intervals,” he whispers, barely hanging on.

“good boy,” you praise him as he breathes heavily under you. pushing your panties to the side, you lined him against your entrance. his breath catches, fingers finding your hips as you start to sink down onto him, inch by inch, teasing slowness, warm and tight until he’s fully buried inside you. his cock stretched you just right. a strangled moan escapes both of your lips.

“holy shit,” a low, wrecked sound escapes his throat, as he grips your hips tightly, trying his best not to unload right there, “thank you,” he trembles, breathing shakily.

he was obviously not going to last long. and it was so extremely hot. you discard the flashcards as you rolled your hips once, slow and deep, each movement designed to drive him out of his mind. mark’s hands are everywhere now, on your back, thighs, gripping your ass as he helps guide your motion, pushing up into you with desperate need. everytime you drop your hips, he lets out another choked curse, eyes glued to the way your body moves against his. you feel his cock twitch inside you, a telltale sign that he was incredibly close to coming undone.

“you gonna cum for me?,” you whisper against his ear, teeth gently grazing the lobe. he nods frantically, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. he’s never felt this kind of pleasure before, the kind that makes him lose absolutely all sense of logic, just nodding like he was some sort of yes-man.

“-fuucck kitten, yes, d-don’t stop, p-pleasee,” his whines encourage you, dragging your hips in a deep circle that has you both gasping. it doesn’t take long. the tension you’ve built the entire session finally snaps as he groans your name, hands clutching you, hips buckling up hard, coming with a gasp buried into your neck.

you don’t stop bouncing. continuing to fuck yourself into his cock, rubbing your own clit.

“k-kitten, it hurts,” he whines. you block all of his pleas of stops, all of his whimpers, the way he’s fully crying out, fingers gripping his own hair, until your thighs are shaking, orgasm taking over, a loud moan slipping from your lips as you cling to him, both of you gasping, bodies slick and trembling.

you absolutely wrecked him — mark’s vision blacks out for a minute too long. his arms loosely wrapped around you as he tried to catch his breath. hair sticking to his skin. that was the best fucking orgasm he’s ever had and he’s had a lot.

and just like the past two tutoring sessions, mark was out the door as soon as he got dressed and it doesn’t get any better than this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 11. friday.

mark enters the university’s basketball court, searching for your frame. you’d texted him to meet you here, a lot earlier than the usual tutoring session. the court was empty, echoing slightly and he spots you instantly, sitting on the bleachers with a book in your hand — he wonders what today’s game is, a little worried about the public location you chose.

“hey dude,” he redirects your attention to him, “are we about to indulge in exhibitionism?,” he teases, an eyebrow going up.

you laugh, closing your book. “no mark, we can’t have sex today,” offering him a sheepish smile.

he looks at you like you just delivered the worst news he could ever hear, “is everything okay?,” he asks, taking a seat next to you.

you nod, “everything’s fine, i’m just on my period,” you say casually, turning toward him.

his eyes widen slightly in acknowledgment before a grin breaks out of his face, “you know…,” he leans in, whispering, like you weren’t the only two people in this room right now, “a period only stops a sentence,” he teases.

you roll your eyes, lightly shoving his face away, “nu-uh mark lee, no way,” you say crashing all his dreams of period sex down the drain, a light smile on your lips.

“why not?, i heard somewhere, it helps with all the cramps and stuff,” he continued, still trying to convince you.

“i’m on my second day, everything’s too messy,” you say flatly, dismissing the idea with a wave of your hand. “—anyways that’s not why we’re here,” you rise from the bleachers, grabbing one of the basketballs on the side and tossing it to him.

mark catches it easily, “we’re gonna play basketball?”, he asks, a brow raising.

“yup, i read somewhere that physical activity helps with memory retention, so we’re gonna play a game while i tutor you,” you explain, standing a little below the hoop.

“you can play basketball?,” he asks, clearly amused, as he starts dribbling the ball in front of you.

“i’m no co-captain of the basketball team or anything but i’ve got a few moves,” you reply, stealing the ball from him with a cheeky grin, “and…if you win, you get to choose what we do during the next session.”

his brow raises, a smirk on his face, mind already racing of things he wanted to do to you. he could have you in his lap as he fingers you until you cry for him. he could have you bent over your desk as he fucks into you. he could spend the whole day eating you out. the possibilities were endless.

“alright,” he says, already feeling competitive, “game on.”

mark dribbles lazily as he awaits your question. you narrow your eyes, “the classical era dates are?”

mark answers quickly, “1750-1820,” like it was a piece of cake. he really is getting better at paying attention in class.

“correct. take the shot.” he does and it bounces off the rim, a curse slipping from his lips. you catch the ball with a grin.

“the romantic era dates are?,” you ask, already dribbling towards the other side. mark gets the answers correct again as you ducked under his arm, tossing the ball into the net.

“okay, showoff,” he mutters playfully, jogging to grab the ball. the game goes on for a solid fifteen minutes. the two of you jogging back and forth. you call out questions, dates, composers, and mark fires back with surprisingly accurate answers. it was a good game between friends, a good session between a tutor and her student.

mark was winning now with several points ahead of you. he hasn’t missed a single shot since the first one, while you were just getting lucky every time you made the ball in your net. he can’t help but find it adorable though – the way your face would light up every time you made a shot. the way you would do a mini celebration, a happy little dance. it was so different from your usual serious, focused, studious side. this side of you is loose, giddy, warm and he’s having way more fun than he expected to.

“alright,” you say breathless but still trying to keep up with him, “dates of the modern–”

you don’t get to finish your question. a sudden wave of pain crashes through your abdomen, so sharp it knocks the air right out of you. you double over mid-step, the ball slipping from your hands and bouncing off to the side, a yelp coming slipping from your lips.

“w-what’s wrong?!,” mark practically bolts to your side as you inhale, trying to catch your breath.

“sorry, just a really bad cramp,” you say, shutting your eyes as the pain traveled all throughout your body. he watches you for a second or two, eyes scanning your figure, registering the pain before he closes the distance, crouching in front of you. he has no idea what to do. he’s never dealt with a girl on her period before. his hands hover for a moment before resting gently at your sides, fingertips against your lower abdomen in slow circles.

you flinch, surprised at his touch, “what are you doing?”

“don’t massages help?,” he asks softly, big brown eyes filled with worry. his touch is careful, like he’s afraid of making it worse. you don’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t really help, not with cramps this intense. still, the gesture alone tugs something warm in your chest. so for a moment you just let yourself sink into it, leaning against his chest for support like it’s the most natural thing in the world. your head rests there, tentative at first, then heavier. it’s a moment of vulnerability you haven’t shown anyone for a long time – not since your ex made you feel like needing comfort was a flaw, like softness was a burden.

mark stills when you rest against him, almost like he’s holding his breath. then, slowly, hesitantly, his arms come around you, careful and steady, not sure if any of this is okay. he doesn’t say anything, just holds you, warm and solid, his chin brushing the top of your head as you breathe through the pain. no teasing, no jokes, no snide remarks – just quiet presence.

eventually, you gently pull back, and he feels himself straighten as if waking from a trance. “i think i have to cut the tutoring session short today,” you say apologetically.

“kitten, don’t even worry about that,” he says immediately. the nickname — usually tossed around with a grin, lands softer now. you don’t think too much about it, brushing off the feeling as soon as it came.

slowly, you got up from the floor, pushing through the lingering pain, “i’m gonna go home and die now,” you say with a weak laugh. he chuckles quietly, standing with you.

“i’ll walk you home,” he offers and you turn it down immediately.

“it’s okay, mark,” you make your way back to the bleachers, gathering your things. “i’m a big girl,” you add, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “i can take care of myself,” you shoot him a smile as he follows you out the court.

“you sure?,” he asks, eyes scanning your face like he’s still not convinced.

“yeah,” you say gently, “thank you, though. i'll see you on monday,” you lean up and press a light kiss to his cheek, quick, grateful. then you turn to leave, not waiting for his response.

behind you, he stays still on the court, watching your figure walk away like he’s not quite ready to let the moment end. the kiss on the cheek lingering on his skin.

once he got back to the dream house, mark still can’t help but wonder if you were okay. he’d showered, changed, even tried zoning out to whatever song was playing through his speakers but his thoughts kept circling back to you. the image of you doubling over in pain, your face twisting as you tried to play it off, like it was nothing, kept replaying in his head like a song stuck on loop.

and he hated it – hated seeing you hurt. hated the way you pretended it wasn’t a big deal. hated the way you apologized for needing a break and absolutely hated the way you waved him off, like his concern was too much.

he told himself it was normal. this was normal. he is your friend. it’s normal to be worried about your friends. that’s allowed.

when he walked into the living room and found jaemin sprawled across the couch, glued to his phone and jeno halfway through a protein bar, he didn’t stop to think before blurting out, “what do you do when angel and bunny are on their periods?”

the question dropped like a brick. jaemin blinked, his gaze dropping from his phone to mark, “uhh why?,” he asks, a curious grin on his face.

mark shrugs, flopping down onto the couch “nothing, just curious.”

there was a beat of silence, then jaemin replied, “well, angel’s gonna murder me for saying this but she gets needy…wants me glued to her side the whole time with extra cuddles and kisses…heating pads are a must,” jaemin chuckles, “oh and sex helps too,” he says with a wink.

mark huffed a quiet laugh, “what about bunny?,” he turns to jeno.

jeno choked on his water, “uh–what? bunny and i don’t have sex,” he says flustered.

mark eyes him suspiciously, “yeah, i know. that’s not what i meant,” he says slowly, “i mean she’s your best friend and you’ve known her since forever right, you should know what she’s like on her period?,” he asks, a playful grin on his lips.

“oh..right,” jeno mutters, “uhm she’s the complete opposite, she locks herself in her room like she’s going into hibernation mode, she just texts me with a list of snacks she wants and i leave those at her door and leave,” he explains.

mark chuckled, but it faded quickly. his mind was racing with a million thoughts of how he could make you feel better. what were you like? did you want to be left alone? did you want snacks? cuddles?...is cuddling even allowed?

jaemin tilted his head, studying him. “wait…is this about your girl?”

mark blinked, “she’s not my girl.”

jeno gave him a long, skeptical look.

“she’s really not!,” mark repeated, more defensively this time, “we’re just friends and i care about my friends well being, okay? that’s all,” he convinces himself more than he does them. before they could say anything else, mark stood up, headed for the door.

⟢

when your phone buzzed, you squinted at the notification from your cocoon of blankets, blinking away the throb of cramps that hadn’t quite given up yet.

mark: hi friend

mark: i’m outside

mark: just want to make sure you’re okay lol

you hesitated, considering pretending to be asleep but something in you tugged toward the door. that soft, stubborn part that wanted not to feel alone tonight. curse these hormones. you cracked it open to find him there, hoodie half zipped, a plastic grocery bag in hand.

“hi,” he said, a little breathless, “i brought you some things.”

you opened the door wider, letting him in, “i told you i was okay.”

“i know but as your friend i had to make sure,” he practically shoves the bag in your hand as you inspect what’s inside. the bag was filled with different kinds of snacks, chocolates, candies, and three boxes of heat patches.

you took the heat patches out and raised a brow, “three?”

“listen,” he said, flopping lightly on your couch, “jaemin said they were ‘a must’ and i panicked,” he says casually and you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept up. it’s been a while since the last time you’ve let anyone do anything for you.

“thank you,” you breathe, the words soft and sincere, stripped of your usual teasing edge. the smile you give him isn’t your usual sly smirk either, it’s quieter, gentler and it makes something in mark’s chest flutter unexpectedly. he looks at you a second too long, heartbeat catching like it’s suddenly forgotten how to work properly.

minutes later, the snacks were spread out on your coffee table, a heating patch working its magic under your hoodie and to all the boy’s i've loved before playing on your t.v. mark sits beside you, a careful few inches of space between your bodies. he didn’t try to fill the silence, didn’t try to cheer you up with jokes or distractions. he was just there – steady and warm and quiet.

when the credits roll, he finally speaks, voice low, “you know,” he says, glancing over at you with a soft smile, “for someone who doesn’t believe in love, i wasn’t expecting you to put on a romcom,” he turns his body towards you as you sat end to end on the couch.

you laugh, shifting slightly under the shared blanket, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a tired smile, “please, your favorite movie is spiderman…do you believe he’s real?”

“how do you know spiderman’s my favorite movie?,” he asks, a light smirk on his face.

“sophomore year, film elective class, you were totally geeking, practically bouncing up and down next to me,” you remind him, exaggerating the detail a tiny bit.

mark huffs a laugh and nudges your knee with his, “ok but it’s different…spiderman is a fantasy character.”

“exactly,” you say, your voice softening, “so is love.”

the words aren’t bitter. just…matter-of-fact. like something long accepted and carefully folded away.

mark turns his head toward you, studying your face in the dim glow of the screen. shadows play across your features, softening the hard lines you've spent building — he thinks back to the first time you met during freshman year orientation. you were the first person he’d ever talked to, bouncing up to him in a soft blue sundress and a smile too big for the room. you introduced yourself with sparkles in your eyes, asking him if he believed in soulmates, like that was a completely normal ice breaker. you were glowing then, all wide-eyed and wonder. all heart. spilling stories about your high school boyfriend like love was the most natural thing in the world. he hadn't even told you his name yet, and there you were, already peeling yourself open for him, talks of forever from your pink lips. you were all blush-colored hope and reckless honesty. he remembered thinking you were kind of intense. too trusting. overly romantic. he hadn’t understood the way your whole world seemed to spin on the axis of love.

now, years later, that sparkle has been replaced by a colder fire, a guarded kind of strength he’s grown used to. the kind that keeps everyone at arm’s length. the kind that never let’s anyone close enough to see where it hurts. your smile — once easy and disarming, has taken a brittle edge, still beautiful, but sharpened by something heavy and unspoken. you don't talk about soulmates anymore. you don't talk about love at all, not unless you're tearing it down.

he noticed the change during the last semester of freshman year. people whispered about your breakup, but no one knew the details. just that it ended and something in you shifted. like someone had quietly reached inside and flipped a switch — it became more evident when even the way you dress has changed. your light, gentle dresses were replaced by blacks and deep reds, structured silhouettes that made you look untouchable. strong. sharp. sometimes he wonders if you’re hiding behind those clothes or they just mirror what’s left…he wonders when exactly the world taught you to stop believing in forever.

“what made you say that?,” he asks finally, voice low, careful not to press too hard but needing to understand.

you hesitate, eyes not meeting his just yet. debating whether its safe to give this piece of yourself away. and maybe it was the vulnerability of the night. maybe it was your hormones messing with your brain, like you’ll tell yourself later. but right now, you find yourself answering him.

“it’s just…” you exhale, like the words are caught in your chest, “love doesn’t last. people swear it’s forever and then suddenly, it’s not. one day you’re holding hands and dreaming together, you have a ring on your finger and the next they’re telling you that you’re too much. too needy,” you blink slowly, memories flickering behind your eyes, “that he only loved me because it was easy. and the second it got hard, he left.”

mark stiffens beside you, “you were engaged?,” he asks, surprise threading through his voice.

“shocking, right?,” you force out a dry laugh, bitter around the edges, “i almost fell for the scam.” your voice is steady, each word carefully measured, telling the story without letting it touch you. but your eyes betray you, they've gone distant, unfocused, like you’re watching a memory you wish you could turn off. there’s a smile on your lips but it’s all muscle memory. empty. the kind of smile people put on when they’re used to pretending they're fine.

mark’s jaw tightens. there’s a sharp flare of protectiveness in his chest, something hot and furious aimed at the ghost of a man he’s never met.

you continue, voice barely above a whisper, “so yeah, spider-man, love, same category…fiction.”

the silence that follows is thick, heavy, but mark doesn’t rush to fill it. he sits in it with you, lets it stretch out between the two of you without trying to clean it up. the pain in your voice isn’t loud, but it’s there – woven through your words like thread through fabric. he doesn’t throw some cliche about how the right person will come along. does not insult you with hollow optimism that people usually responded with. he doesn't try to talk you out of your truth or tape over a wound he can't even see the full shape of.

instead he nudges your knee again, gentler this time. a small touch, reassuring.

“i don’t think you’re too much,” he says quietly, the words careful and real, “not even a little.”

you look at him then. you don’t say anything for a while, neither does mark. and he’s not sure if that was something he was even allowed to say. you’ve built so many walls that even kindness feels like trespassing…then, in true fashion, you break the weight with a teasing smile, “who’s your favorite spiderman anyway?,” you ask.

the shift it so perfectly timed, so you, that it makes mark huff a laugh. he knows its your way of giving you both room to breathe again and he's grateful for the shift.

“tobey,” mark says with zero hesitation.

you groan dramatically, hands flying to your face, “no way, everyone who says they’re favorite spiderman is tobey is blinded by nostalgia! his spiderman was a creepy stalker!,” you argue passionately.

you lower your hands just in time to see mark laugh…really laugh. the kind that crinkles his eyes and pulls a genuine sound from his chest and it makes something bloom in yours.

“okay well, who’s yours then?,” he asks playfully. “andrew.”

he scoffs, “nope, his peter parker was great but his spiderman was not ‘spidermanning’ at all!,” he argues back, the made-up word slipping out so confidently it makes your brows lift.

you roll your eyes, a smile on your lips, “i didn’t say i liked him for the spiderman of it all.”

“oh?” he says, eyes gleaming with curiosity, “then what?”

you shrug, slow and teasing, “he’s the prettiest one…and,” you lean in a little closer, mark watching you, “i like looking at pretty things.”

his smile falters for a split second, eyes flicking to your lips.

“do you now?,” he murmured, voice lower now, the space between your faces shrinking by the second.

“mhm,” you mutter and then, without overthinking it, you close the space and kiss him softly, slowly, carefully, like testing the weight of something fragile, unsure if it’s meant to be held at all. his hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing tenderly over your skin. it’s not like any of the others you’ve shared before – not playful, not messy, not reckless. this one feels like stepping into something unknown.

it doesn’t last long. just a few seconds. just lingers enough to feel real.

when you finally break apart, neither of you speaks right away, just looking in each other’s eyes like you unlocked something dangerous. the stillness lingers, dense and a little too loud.

you're the one to break it, typical you, peeling the weight away with a crooked smile, “i’m still not down for period sex” you tease. he forces himself to laugh, trying to push away the tension that lingered in the air.

“fair enough,” mark says, standing slowly, “you should rest anyway and maybe lay off the tobey slander,” he says.

you laugh softly, leaning your head against the couch cushions as you watch him move around your apartment like he belongs here, “i’m right about him.”

he chuckles, grabbing his phone and keys, “text me if you need anything, seriously. even if it’s just to complain about life,” he says warmly, a small smile visible on his features.

“thanks for tonight, mark,” you say as you get up, stretching your limbs and walking him to your door.

he pauses in the doorway, like he wants to say something else, but instead he just nods, “of course, that’s what friends do.”

and then he leans in again, placing a soft kiss on your temple. his voice is quieter this time, almost tender, “goodnight, kitten.”

you freeze, just for a second, but your response comes automatically, “goodnight, mark”

and with that, he’s gone, the door closing with a soft click. you’re left in the quiet and for the first time in a long time, your apartment doesn’t feel quite so lonely. and still, despite the warmth lingering on your lips, despite the comfort of knowing someone cares, there it is, crawling up your spine and tightening in your chest — fear.

⟢

the walk back to the dream house was quiet. mark’s hoodie sleeves are pushed halfway up his arms but the cool night air doesn’t do much to ease the heat still lingering in his chest. the night loops in his head like an endless record.

the kiss. he’s never been kissed like that. like it was more than two lips touching, chasing the lust.

that kiss was cautious. it had weight. like it had been carved out of something deeper, something neither of you knew how to name. he was sure of it. it’s the way you looked at him, like you completely trusted him, even for just a second. and maybe it didn’t last. maybe you’ll wake up tomorrow and bury it under sarcasm and boundaries. but that look…that look is stuck under his skin now.

he exhales slowly, staring down at the sidewalk. his footsteps echoing in the quiet — you were vulnerable tonight. he knows that. he could feel it in the way you curled in on yourself when the cramps got bad, the cracks between your jokes, that look in your eyes when you talked about your ex. mark noticed it all. that’s the problem. because he doesn’t know what the kiss meant or if it even meant anything at all. maybe it was just comfort. a soft, fleeting thing you reached for in the moment. maybe you’ll wake up and decide it wasn’t real. if that’s the case, he’ll happily play along, laugh it off, bury it.

but his chest still feels tight. he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you said love was a fantasy. and you still kissed him that way. like he mattered. like he was more than just your friend, more than just a body in your bed.

his mind is all over the place. thoughts going back and forth. he swallows hard, jaw tightening. all this thinking wasn’t supposed to happen. you were never supposed to mean anything. for god’s sake, he was the one who said that you couldn’t fall in love with him with. he meant it, too. back then, it felt like the safest thing to say. a wall, not just for you but for him, too.

he doesn’t do love. he’s always been good at lines. at keeping things in neat boxes. clean. uncomplicated. no drama. bodies, not hearts. moments with no meaning, only pleasure. he knows how to care just enough to make it feel good and not enough for it to matter. he’s practiced, efficient, detached.

but something about tonight is cracking through that. and he’s not sure he’s ready to face it.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 14. monday.

when mark entered your apartment, he hadn’t known what to expect. he’d spent the entire weekend mentally pacing, replaying friday night over and over, dissecting every word, every glance, every breath between you. and then he’d forced himself to stop. to push any thoughts of you away, telling himself it didn’t mean anything.

but still, when you opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest like it hadn’t gotten the memo.

then you smiled, that same guarded expression, the one that never quite reached your eyes. you looked the same you had last week, composed, cool and out of his reach. he knew right then, that he was right. that moment was fleeting and completely over. erased.

“hey, earth to mark lee, you there?,” you wave your hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daydream.

“yeah, sorry, what was the question?,” he asked, blinking.

“dang dude, you weren’t lying when you said sex helps you focus,” you tease him. today was another no sex session, seeing as you were still on your period.

he chuckles, letting out a groan and burying his face in your pillows, “i can’t belive god gave you periods, this has been the longest week of my life.”

you sat cross-legged on your bed, mark sprawled out beside you, “i told you i can always give you a blowjob.”

his nose scrunches up, peeking at you from the pillow, “no. not after your last blowjob session.”

“it wasn’t that bad,” you feigned innocence.

“kitten,” he deadpanned, lifting his head to glare at you, “you edged me so hard, i cried.”

“and?” you grinned, shameless, “didn’t it make the orgasm like 10x better?”

“at what cost, though?,” he asked dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart, “i saw my soul leave my body.”

you laughed, reaching over to poke his side, “but you survived.”

“barely,” he muttered, rolling his eyes, sitting up, facing you now, “you really enjoy tormenting me, don’t you?”

“only when you make it so easy,” you said sweetly, “besides, you didn’t complain that much.”

mark let out a long exaggerated sigh, head tilted towards you, “you’re lucky i like you.”

it slipped out carelessly. there was a beat of silence. the two of you holding your breaths at the words he uttered out.

for a second, neither of you moved. mark cursed himself internally. really? now? after a weekend of telling himself it meant nothing…he says that? out of all the things he could’ve said? he really needed to get better at thinking things out before saying them.

the memory of friday night replays in your mind. the slow kiss, the quiet way you looked at each other, the parts of yourself you weren’t supposed to show. you didn’t know why you let it happen but you did. what you do know is that you crossed a line and you had to make things clear.

you shifted slightly, voice coming out softer than before, “listen, mark…about friday night,” you bring up and you feel him freeze slightly.

“i really am grateful for the snacks and having a friend there but…,” you hesitated, searching for the right words, “i was all up in my period feelings and did some stuff i usually wouldn’t...”

you glanced at him, “if that makes sense?”

“no, i get it,” he said quickly, too quickly. “don’t worry i didn’t read too much into it,” he lies.

“cool,” you said, giving him a sheepish smile, “so…we’ll just forget about it?”

he ignores the way you can’t say the word kiss. he ignores the way he can’t bring himself to say that word either. both of you dancing around the “stuff” that happened.

he looked at you for a beat, then cracked a grin, “forget about what?”

you chuckle, shoving his shoulder and reaching out for your notes, resuming the session like nothing happened. like your heart hadn’t skipped a beat. like his hadn’t just cracked a little more under the pressure of pretending.

before the silence could settle over you, you change the topic, “you know, you kinda remind me of peter parker.”

mark raises an eyebrow, amused, “oh yeah? how?”

you lean back, teasing, “you’re always acting like the weight of the world is on your shoulders but somehow manage to crack a joke when it counts.”

this surprises him a little bit. he hadn’t realized how much you could actually see through him during these past tutoring sessions. how close you’d been paying attention. he doesn’t dwell on it, afraid of what other feelings it may unlock.

“i didn’t know i was that dramatic,” he finally says, playing it off with a small laugh.

“you’re not,” you say, meeting his eyes for a brief moment, “but you carry more than you let on.”

mark looks away, lips pressing into a faint line. he wants to keep the mood light, to make another dumb spiderman joke but your words hit a little too close. and that unsettles him more than he cares to admit. he clears his throat, “well, does that make you mj or gwen?,” he flirts.

you smirk, “neither. i'm your guy in the chair.”

mark laughs, eyes crinkling, “you mean like ned?”

“exactly. reliable. sarcastic. smarter than you and absolutely not dying in anyone’s tragic love arc.”

“bold of you to assume,” he says with a grin, shaking his head. you grin back, flipping a page in your notebook. you go back to explaining the notes in front of you and he listens, nodding at the right times.

on the surface, everything settles back into easy rhythm — banter and bullet points. but under all the teasing and laughter, one thing stayed unspoken. neither of you had really forgotten. not even a little.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 16. wednesday.

to say mark was excited was a complete understatement. clearing things up with you absolutely helped, he wasn’t left wondering the maybe’s. he blamed the momentary feeling on that night and it was done. explained. buried deep in a box somewhere.

today was all about his reward and he was absolutely ecstatic. he’d been counting down to this ever since your little basketball game ended in his favor. he knew exactly what he wanted as soon as the proposition was brought up. this was his moment – his perfect payback for that blowjob that ended in tears and torment.

so when you asked him what he wanted and he replied with, “i want to cut tutoring short today and have my way with you,” you had no other option but to oblige.

which is how you ended up here now, seated between his legs, thighs parted, panties long gone. your slick glistened in the warm light of your bedroom, a blindfold wrapped securely around your head – completely open, completely at his mercy. the cloth stays firm over your eyes, heightening every sense. you feel everything. his breath on your shoulder, the heat of his thighs beneath yours, the stillness between touches. you sat there, waiting…then you felt it.

something cool and slender lightly tracing along the inside of your thigh. your breath catches, legs twitching at the unexpected contact, “what is that?”

mark hums thoughtfully, as if considering the question, “just something i found lying around.”

it moves again, gliding upward, skimming where you needed him most. he circles the object around your clit without pressure, ghosting enough to make you clench. you shift your hips, trying to chase the feeling, but he’s already pulling it away.

“mark,” you grit out, jaw tightening.

“shh,” he murmurs, nibbling on your ear, “let me enjoy my reward.” you swallow hard, heat pooling in your stomach. you were sure this torture was going to last forever and you knew he was doing this on purpose. teasing you to the edge, just like you did to him.

the thing, whatever it is, drags lightly over your folds now, collecting wetness as it goes, “so fucking wet and i haven’t even touched you yet,” he whispers beside you, making goosebumps rise throughout your neck. you’re about to snap a snarky remark when his fingers suddenly replace the object, two of them sliding through your slick folds with infuriating slowness, pressing just enough to build pressure but not nearly enough to satisfy.

“fuck,” you gasp, fingers clutching his thigh as your hips jerked. he lets you have his digits, inserting two of his fingers and curling them just where you need him the most but before you can even enjoy it, he pulls back.

you whine as he withdraws, leaving you empty and throbbing, “we’re just starting, kitten,” you hear the smirk in his voice and it’s absolutely annoying — to be vulnerable this way and have no control.

mark brings the mystery object back, the cool tip sliding up your folds again, this time more deliberately. you squirm, desperate for friction. the blindfold has turned your entire body into a nerve – every inch sensitive, every second unbearable. then you feel his hands again, large and warm, settling on your thigh, the other slipping into your shirt and gliding up your torso, fingers leaving a blaze of fire until he reaches your breast.

you inhale sharply when his fingertips ghost over one nipple, already peaked and begging for attention, “you’re always so sensitive here,” his voice cuts through the silence, your breathing becoming heavier and heavier. his thumb brushes over the bud, a whine slipping from your lips. he has you memorized by now. the little ticks that turn you on. which was a lot for mark, considering most of his past sexual partners had only been for one night.

something brushes over your nipple – cool, round, smooth. you’re not sure if its the same object and it’s driving you insane, “what the hell is that?,” you ask, your voice breathless. mark doesn’t answer this time, just littering kisses along your neck, letting the object speak for him. it circles your nipple slowly, deliberately, then he flicks it lightly, sharp enough to make you gasp and arch forward, your head resting against that space between his neck. his free arm comes up to your waist, keeping you locked against him.

“you’re not allowed to squirm yet,” he murmurs near your ear, voice thick with satisfaction. he switched to your other breast, teasing it with that same cold precision. the contrast between your flushed skin and the chill of the object is enough to make your toes curl. you needed more.

you writhe, frustrated, “mark, please,” you beg for something…anything.

“shhh kitten,” he soothes, mouth brushing the shell of your ear, “be patient.”

his mouth returned to your neck, warm and wet, while the mystery object rolled lazily across your breast. your aching cunt left throbbing and dripping. you feel the hard press of his cock through his sweats and still he makes no move to satisfy either of you. he trails lower, teeth grazing your shoulder and just when you think the cold object might return to your nipple, it doesn’t.

instead, his fingers return, sliding down your slick folds. two strokes. three. then gone again.

“mark,” you gasp, body twitching under the restraint of his arm. you can’t think of any other word but his name — so caught up in the thrill of it all.

“you keep saying my name like i’m gonna feel bad,” he says with a chuckle, “i’m just repaying you.” then he brings the cold object down again, dragging it teasingly along your inner thigh before brushing it just over your clit, making you shudder in his hold, as he smirks behind you.

“kitten, you wanna know what i’ve been using?,” he whispers, smug and quiet. you nod quickly, barely able to breathe. he brought it up in front of your face, knowing full well you couldn’t see it and said, clearly amused, “your pen.”

you groan, “there’s no way it feels that good,” you managed to say. he just laughed quietly, brushing your hair back from your face, “the power of a blindfold,” he whispers. you barely had time to process his words before he was shifting behind you, leaving you sitting on your bed alone. a mixture of confusion, excitement and slight fear at the thought of what he has planned.

mark makes his way around, standing at the foot of your bed as he watches, loving the way you had no idea what’s coming to you. his hand makes contact with your shoulder, making you jump slightly as he pushes you down to your sheets, your back making contact with your soft pillows. you sucked in a shaky breath, wonder traveling throughout your body. then he hovers over you, kissing the hollow of your throat as he carefully pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere, exposing your tits to the cool air. he lets his tongue graze, tracing a path down the center of your chest until his lips find your nipple again. you gasped as his mouth closed around it, sucking, warm and wet. the suction paired with the flick of his tongue in a rhythm that made your spine arch.

“fucking perfect,” he muttered against your skin, teeth grazing before he soothed the sting with another kiss. his hand moved to the other breast, thumb circling lazily around the peak, squeezing just enough to make your hips buck.

but he didnt move lower, “you like being edged, don’t you?,” he whispered, voice dripping with satisfaction.

you whimpered, nodding, desperate, frustrated.

“use your words, kitten,” mark demands.

“yes,” you gasped, “please, mark, just–,” your plea broke off into a cry when his mouth trailed lower, down your stomach, leaving goosebumps behind. he stopped just above your mound, breathing you in like you were the only thing in the world.

“you smell like heaven,” he praises. then his hands gripped your thighs, firm and possessive, pulling you open further – his mouth on you in a second, hot, wet and needy. his tongue dragged through your folds slowly, deliberately. one long, teasing lick. then another, circling your clit, keeping you on the edge. you moaned, loud and desperate, your hand flying to his hair instinctively. he groaned at the contact, encouraged. finally, he gave your clit the attention it had been begging for, flicking, sucking, licking until your thighs were trembling.

and just when your stomach starts to clench — he pulls back.

“no–,” you gasped, “don’t stop, please—”

but he had already moved his mouth, licking the inside of your thigh, soothing and tortuous all at once.

“not yet,” he said, voice dark and patient, “you don’t get to come until i say so.”

you could cry from how badly you needed him. he was relentless, bending your body to his rhythm, his pace. his tongue returned, more insistent now, fingers slipping inside you this time, curling just right and every time that heat started to spiral, his mouth would pull away, his rhythm would slow and the wave would slip just out of reach.

it was torture – delicious, devastasting torture.

your breath came in ragged gasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. the blindfold making it worse. every sound, every touch, every breath he took, every swipe of his tongue felt magnified. and mark was loving every second of it. the way he had all control under his fingertips.

“you keep sucking in my fingers,” he murmured, voice thick with arousal. “you wanna cum that badly, kitten?”

you nod furiously, broken whimpers slipping past your lips, your pride long gone. then you felt it again. that same, cool rounded object from earlier. your pen.

he dragged the tip of it along your folds, now slick and pulsing from his touch, watching the way your legs twitched with each pass, “bet you’ll never look at this thing the same again,” he whispered near your hip. the pen collects your dripping arousal, “such a mess,” he breathes out, tongue surprisingly latching onto your folds again, sucking your juices. you whimpered as he slides a finger inside you again, slower, deeper, making you feel every second of it.

“you feel how close you are?,” he asked, voice gravelly, dangerous. you nodded frantically, choking on a breath only for him to pull back again.

“mark, please, i’m sorry,” you cry out desperately. wanting so bad to finally be relieved. the edging was too much. your clit was throbbing so painfully and you needed him so badly. he leaves you untouched for a second too long, watching you squirm for him.

then with absolutely no warning, mark slaps his hard cock against your cunt, making you moan out in pleasure. he slides his member up and down your wet folds, teasing your entrance and for a moment you don’t even care that he’s not wearing a condom. his skin felt so fucking good againts yours. you just wanted him inside you. you felt the tip of him nudge against you again. but he didn’t push in. he just stayed there, teasing.

you whined, toes curling into the sheets, body arching up, “please….”

he chuckled, low, quiet, “i love hearing you beg,” he said, his tip brushing over your clit, solid and hot against your slick, “makes it real tempting to give in.”

“i could take you right now, kitten,” he whispered, voice wrecked with restraint, “you’d be so good for me, so ready,” he hums against your skin.

you gasped, barely holding onto your sanity, practically sobbing, “please do it, mark, please i need you,” you were soaked, throbbing, voice breaking with utter desperation — that was all he needed to hear. mark wraps his member and not even a second later he finally thrusts into you, sliding into your hole with ease. your body was so prepared for him, walls completely squeezing around his cock so perfectly, so warm.

he yanks off the blindfold from your face and for a moment the room spins with light and clarity until his brown eyes come into view. your tear-filled eyes meet his and the heat in his steals your breath. he was breathing just as hard as you are. just as worked up. he brings your legs up to your shoulders, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer, holding on to him like he was your lifeline. he was in so deeply, his cock hitting that spot over and over again. you were trembling, panting hard, jaw clenching as you fought to keep your eyes open. mark hovered above you, his thrusts unrelenting, his own breath ragged, the heat between you unbearable. you moaned his name like it was the only word you’ve ever learned, your voice dissolving into desperate, broken sounds.

“i’m gonna—mark, i’m gonna…,” your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging into his skin.

“—go on kitten,” he growled in your ear, voice thick with hunger, “cum for me.”

that was it. the pleasure tore through you like a wave, your whole body arching as your orgasm finally hit you. hard. jaw going slack, vision blurring, eyes rolling back as you practically saw stars. the way your pussy pulsed around him sent mark over the edge, “fuck kitten, such a good girl,” he managed to say in between breaths, before he was groaning in your neck, spilling into the condom. his movements slowed as he rode it out, then he collapsed gently on top of you, both of you shaking, skin slick and flushed.

you stay there for a moment or two, trying to even your ragged breathing. then…laughter bubbled from your lips. light, uncontrollable, like something cracked open inside you and it sounds like music to his ears.

“what?” his head lifted slightly, brows drawn, cock still inside you.

you giggled again, still catching your breath, “h-holy shit, mark” you gasped, eyes glassy with aftershocks, “i don’t think i’ve ever came that hard before.”

he gave you that crooked, self-satisfied boyish smirk and you almost regret complimenting him. then slowly, he pulled out of you, making your body ache with the sudden absence.

carefully, he brushed the tears from the corner of your eyes, “you okay though? i wasn’t too much?”

your heart tripped in your chest. you hated that it did.

you nodded, keeping it casual, ignoring the way his concern made something twist painfully inside you, “yeah. i’m good.”

he nods, settling beside you as you laid there, still catching your breath, your limbs buzzing, body sore in a satisfying way. mark hadn’t moved much either, his arm casually draped over your thigh, chest rising and falling steadily with you. neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t awkward. it was warm. settled. easy in a way it probably shouldn’t have been. it was too dangerous. you needed to break it.

“i’m hungry,” you said, voice still scratchy.

mark glanced over at you, a brow raised, “i just gave you an orgasm of a lifetime and the first thing on your mind is food?”

you gave him a lazy grin, “we burned a lot of calories from that, we deserve carbs”

he didn’t comment on your use of we. or the way that there was a we now makes his heart skip a beat. but the fact that he liked the sound of a we was far worse. that box he buried somewhere deep inside, suddenly popping up.

“you’re ridiculous,” he says, forcing out another laugh.

you reached for your phone on the nightstand, “pizza okay with you?,” and he realizes you’re inviting him to stay. you’re not kicking him out like you usually do after a session.

he pushes it a bit further, wanting to see how far this invitation goes “as long as i get to pick the movie this time.”

you narrowed your eyes at him like he’d stepped on thin ice and he’s afraid he pushed it a little too far, misread the moment, until you say, “and what movie are you picking?”

a smile curved his lips as he grabbed his shirt and sweats off the ground, putting it on, “spiderman. obviously,” he says, already making his way to your living room couch.

you blinked at him then grabbed the first clothes within reach, your shorts from the far corner and his hoodie slung over your desk chair, “which one?,” you called through your room, putting the clothes on.

“there’s only one right answer!”

“andrew’s?,” you teased, walking out of your bedroom. he froze for a second. you, in his hoodie, smiling like that. that same smile from freshman year. his brain short-circuited. you were making this whole forgetting thing really hard.

“hope you don’t mind,” you said with a small laugh, “i have no idea where you threw my shirt,” you chuckle.

“that’s fine,” he replied, maybe a little too fast, “and no not andrew’s”

you snorted, “fine, i’ll order pepperoni and you can fangirl over your web-slinging childhood hero,” you smirk, calling papa john’s.

mark grinned as he turned on the t.v. and started searching for the movie, “hey, that’s spiderman, protector of new york, thank you very much.”

you settled beside him a few minutes later, pizza box on the coffee table, movie playing, quiet jokes exchanged through bites of crust and cheese. somewhere between tobey maguire’s awkward charm and halfway through the pizza box, the space between you disappeared. this time, there was no gap. no careful leaning away. your thighs brushed his and neither of you moved. neither of you said anything. but maybe, just maybe, you both felt it — that same quiet something that had been growing since that friday night. still unspoken. still unnamed.

and mark realizes that he could get used to this.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 18. friday.

the door barely clicked shut before mark had his hands on you – rough, needy, all control. he didn’t waste a second. not a single hello, not a single warning. his mouth crashed into yours, all hunger and heat, urgent and commanding, steering you straight to the bedroom with the kind of focus only frustration could fuel.

“m-mark, what’s wrong?,” you managed to ask, concern laced in your voice.

“need you. now,” he growled, voice low, flat with no room for playfulness. you didn’t even make it to the bed. he spun you, yanked your shorts down, shoved you onto your desk chair. one hand ripping open a condom, the other dragging your panties aside and in one swift motion, he was inside you.

you gasped at the intrusion, fingers gripping your desk table, not at all prepared for him. there was no easing in, no pause. just raw, relentless need. and he didn’t care. he couldn’t care. he had too much to burn off. he thrusted in and out of your hole with a desperate rhythm that had you gasping his name between moans. the sound of skin slapping echoing through your bedroom walls.

“fuuuck, kitten, just what i needed,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips like he was holding on for life. you were sure his fingerprints would mark your skin. he pulls you back onto him with every snap of his hips, like he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t get close enough.

“mark, fuck,” you gasped, tears pricking your eyes from the intensity. but he didn’t slow down. he was absolutely locked in, chest heaving, only focused on reaching that high.

“everything’s fucked,” he muttered between gritted teeth, slamming into you hard, “i just needed this…needed you.”

you felt him twitch inside you, pace stuttering for half a second, just enough to send that familiar heat spiraling through your core. the roughness, the force, the way he clung to you like you were the only thing that mattered – it pushed you straight to the edge. your body tensed, a cry spilling from your lips as your orgasm washed over you. you clenched incredibly tight around him and that’s all it took.

“shit, i’m cumming,” he groaned, choking on the sound as he slammed in one last time, hips jerking, fingers still digging into your flesh like he’d break without the contact.

for a moment, all that filled the room was the sound of your breathing – heavy, wrecked, uneven. he stayed there, buried deep, his forehead resting against your back, arms still wrapped around your waist like letting go would make the world crash in again. his breath fanned hot across your skin, heavy and uneven but slowly starting to settle.

you blinked through the haze, heart still racing, legs barely steady beneath you. you turned your head slightly, voice hoarse but gentle, “mark, what was that?”

he didn’t answer at first. just exhaled, slow and ragged. then he pulled out with care, discarding the used condom and pulling his sweatpants back up. his hands steady you as he gently placed your panties back in place. he turned you to face him, guiding you to sit, and then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips – soft, slow and achingly tender. the complete opposite of everything that had come before.

“are you okay?,” you asked, reaching out to cup the side of his face, searching for the answers in his eyes. he allowed himself to lean into your touch. almost like he needed it to breathe, eyes fluttering close for a second.

“jeno got in a fight,” he sighs heavily, voice low, almost defeated.

he sank into his knees in front of you, resting his head in your lap. without thinking, your fingers immediately thread through his hair like they belonged there, like this was normal. his arms wrapped around your waist with quiet desperation, “it got recorded, reached the dean in seconds and i had to go clean it up, make sure we don’t get shut down,” he says tiredly.

you just listen to him, letting him unravel.

“and finals are on monday, i think i’m ready…we’ve been studying really well, my quizzes went okay but it’s also my last chance…if i don’t pass these classes, i'm off the basketball team.”

his arms tightened around your waist like he was bracing himself.

“it’s just been…a lot, everyone thinks i’ve got it all together. they don’t even know i’ve managed to screw it all up…i’m failing my classes, the team…everyone,” his voice broke on the last word, barely more than a whisper.

his eyes shut again, like he couldn’t bear to have anyone see him like this — mark, who was everyone’s favorite. mark, who always made confidence look effortless. mark, who everyone admired, who never looked tired. mark, who was here, on your bedroom floor, falling apart.

and you realized now just how much he’d been carrying and how alone he must have felt doing it. he was a mirror of your own reflection. so you ask him the one question you wished people asked you.

“do you want to talk about it?,” you whispered, thumb softly brushing along his cheek.

his jaw tensed beneath your touch and you thought he might pull away. shove the vulnerability back down and wrap himself in that playful charm he wore so easily when you were sitting across from him at study session or tangled up in the sheets. but instead, his shoulders slumped. he starts, voice low and rough, “i thought i could fix it, just grind harder, push through like i’ve always been able to…but things just kept stacking up. practices, papers and now this thing with the fraternity.”

you’d seen the cracks, of course. you weren’t oblivious. him being late, the bags under his eyes, the way his shoulders stay tense no matter how relaxed he tried to seem. but he always played it off and you never pushed.

“i couldn’t tell anyone,” he continued, softer now, “i’m the leader, the co-captain…i'm supposed to know what to do. everyone leans on me, if i fall apart what happens to the rest of them?.” he lets out a bitter, humorless laugh.

“and i couldn’t tell you. you’re already helping me so much with tutoring and the sex and i didn’t want to drag you into my shit. especially since…this thing between is isnt supposed to include this, right?”

you didn’t respond right away because he was right — there were walls between you that needed to stay up. this was supposed to be easy. you were supposed to be each other’s safe option. the ones who didn't come with emotional trauma. the ones who wouldn’t ask for more. the ones who never pried, just notes, flashcards and casual sex without the weight of feelings or expectations.

“we’re still friends mark,” you said gently, “and friends don't let you go through the hard stuff alone.”

your voice was soft, but steady. you offered a small, honest smile and he finally looks up, meeting your eyes, letting himself be seen. he didn’t say anything after that, just looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

you didn’t break the gaze, didn’t try to fill the silence. you just stayed there, fingers still gently curling in his hair. letting him be here. letting him breathe. and he did – his head rested in your lap, arms still loosely wrapped around your waist like he didn’t quite know how to let go. didn’t want to let go. you could feel the weight of him, every little thing he’s been holding in, slowly settling.

no one rushed to define what this moment meant. no one tried to make a joke to cut the lingering tension — it was just quiet. stretching between you full of things unsaid. of a certain kind of understanding that didn’t need to be spoken out loud. and for now, this was enough.

just two people, sitting in their own wreckage, breathing together, pretending they weren’t crossing a line.

eventually, you felt the need to offer him something more than quiet comfort. something normal. something safe.

“what do you say, we skip tutoring session for the day and watch spiderman 2, i can order chinese this time?,” you say, finally breaking the quiet.

his eyes flicked up to yours. there was a pause, like the suggestion took a second to land. then slowly, the tension in his face bagan to ease, a smile tugging on his lips, “and what about finals week?”

“mark you know it, you’ve gotten every single question right our last two sessions,” you reassure him, “there’s not a single doubt in my mind you’re going to pass,” you smirked, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

that pulled a real breath of relief from him, a soft laugh, muffled against your lap, “we’re watching tobey’s spiderman 2, right?”

for the rest of the night, there was no tutoring, no expectations, no pressure. just honey walnut shrimp, fried rice, spider-man swinging through new york city and two people, curled up on the couch, who weren’t quite sure what they were but certain that this comfort, this closeness, was something they wanted.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 20. sunday.

mark: dude

mark: [1 image]

mark: saw this and thought of you

kitten: ???

kitten: mark. that’s just a cat.

mark: she has your eyes!!

kitten: bro 😭😭

kitten: she looks like she’s ready to attack u

mark: exactly

mark: just like you! 😼

kitten: seek help

kitten: and good luck on your finals markkk

kitten: you're gonna kill it

mark: what’s my reward if i pass? 🫣

kitten: freedom from me 🙂‍↕️

kitten: sex with anyone you want! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

kitten: any day you want!! 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

mark stared at your texts, thumbs hovering over the screen, his grin being wiped off — it was exactly the kind of thing you’d say. playful, detached, safe. like he hasn’t seen the most vulnerable parts of you. like you haven’t seen the worst parts of him.

his stomach churns in a funny way. it didn’t hit him until now that passing his classes also meant your tutoring sessions were over. no more flashcards, no more learning each other’s bodies, no more movie nights and greasy take out foods. no more you.

he set his phone down beside him, letting his head fall back against the pillow. suddenly, the finish line didn’t feel like a victory lap. it felt like a goodbye. and sure, you would still be around, he would still see you in passing, on campus, in random parties – you would still be his friend.

the word leaves a sour taste in his mouth. if he was being completely honest, he didn’t want to stop seeing you. he didn’t want this to end just because the excuse to stay had run out. he wanted to be on your couch, watching spiderman. you still had six of them to go. he wanted the greasy takeout, the shared silence, the casual way your leg would brush against his like it didn’t mean everything.

he wanted to keep learning you. your favorite color, your favorite songs, your favorite everything until there was nothing left to learn. and even then, when all the learning is done, he just wanted to be there.

he wanted to be allowed to stay. to be able to wrap his arms around you and not wonder if he’s crossing a line. to show up with all your favorite snacks, and this time he knows what they are. to kiss you and not feel that sick, sinking guilt in his stomach when it meant more to him than it ever should have.

he started typing: what if i don’t want freedom from you?

he stared at it for a second. then deleted it.

typed again: sooo i still get to bother you after finals, right?

he deleted that one too.

mark: haha, nice 👍

he sighed, tossing his phone face-down onto the bed like that would somehow quiet the tightness in his chest.

your phone buzzed again. his response felt off or maybe it was just all in your head. you shook the thoughts away and turned back to your laptop, reviewing for your own classes.

you weren’t going there. you couldn't.

you refuse to be too much again. too needy.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 21. monday.

when mark stepped out of his last class of the day, he found you immediately, leaning against the wall, a drink in your hand, smiling at him.

before he could even think about it, his feet were already moving, carrying him, each step closing in towards you as he pulled you into a hug. his face nestles in the crook of your neck, a quiet sigh of relief slipping past his lips. he just wanted to stay here for a while. wrapped in the calm only you seemed to bring.

you froze, just for a moment. the hug catches you off guard. you’ve never been this touchy in public. you could feel the eyes on you, see a few raised brows in your peripheral vision. still, after a beat or two, you gave in, arms looping around his waist, one hand still gripping the cup of milk tea you got for him.

“it wasn’t that bad, was it?,” you murmured near his ear. he chuckles against your neck, the breath of air tickling before leaning back just enough to look at you, his hands still lingering on your hips like he’d forgotten to let go.

“i’m pretty sure i aced it,” he said, all confidence and charm.

you raise a brow, “so why did you just hug me like the world was ending?”

his smirk flickered, replaced by something quieter, heavier “you said once i passed, this would be over.”

he tried to keep it light, but the words tasted bitter, “figured, i should take what i can while i still can.”

you push away the feeling rising in your throat, glancing down at the drink in your hand, shoving the emotion aside “here, i got this for you, a mini reward.”

he takes it with a soft laugh, fingers brushing against yours, just a moment too long. his eyes stayed on you as he took a sip and something about the way he looks at you makes your chest twist — it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. not in daylight. not out here, in the open, where it could be mistaken for something real.

“people are staring at us,” you murmured, gaze dropping.

he doesn’t even glance around them, “let them.”

you tried to deflect, lips tugging into a smirk “what? and ruin your chances with all your girls?”

but he didn’t laugh. he didn’t play along. didn’t take the out this time.

“maybe i only want one girl.”

the breath caught in your throat. your heart stuttered. you looked up at him, eyes searching, desperate to find some hint of irony, some trace of a grin. anything that would let you write it off.

“hmm,” you force out a chuckle, thin and cracked, “you? mr. i don’t go exclusive,” you teased, your voice barely holding steady.

he smiled, but he didn’t deny it. that was when the panic set in.

“i have to go, i still have a class to get to,” and before he could respond, you were already walking away. you didn’t look back. you couldnt.

mark stayed where he was for a while, just watching your figure get smaller and smaller, drink in his hand, feeling the warmth of your body still clinging to his skin. people moved around him in chatter, footsteps on concrete, but it all blurred.

he meant it — he didn’t just let those words slip for no reason. he’d thought about it all night, maybe longer, and when the words came out, they didn’t surprise him. and it didn’t surprise him either how quiet you went, how fast you looked away, how quickly you pivoted back to safe ground, barely entertaining the thought.

you were the girl who didn’t believe in love. he knew that. and you could continue pretending that this was nothing. you could continue to shove it down with a joke, whatever you needed to do to keep him at arm’s length.

but he was done playing along. he wasn’t going to pretend anymore.

he wanted you to have all his mondays, wednesdays and fridays. even the tuesdays and thursdays. and every last goddamn saturdays and sundays. if you’d let him.

⟢

mark’s words echoes in your ears, clear and sharp and impossible to shake as you lay in your bed, wide awake.

you replay the moment in your head, over and over. the way he held you like you were something to hold onto. the way his fingers didn’t let go right away.

the way your heart betrayed you.

you hated how easy it would be to believe him. to want more. to hope. again.

but love had already burned you. already ruined you. it hollowed you out, left you scattered in pieces you barely recognized. you gave and gave until there was nothing left to give and even then, you still tried to be enough. you made yourself smaller, more manageable, easier to love. and you hated it. hated who you became when love took over – clingy, dependent, pathetic, insecure.

the kind of person who lost herself in someone else’s orbit and called it devotion. the kind of person who mistook being needed for being desired. the kind of person who became the version they needed until the real you felt like a distant memory.

it took everything to rebuild yourself from the wreckage love left behind. you had to learn how to be alone again. how to stop apologizing for needing anything at all. you had to teach yourself to exist without someone else’s hands holding you together.

you swore to yourself you’d never be that girl again.

but here you are, heart stuttering at a single sentence from a boy who was never supposed to matter this much. all your careful walls cracking, your breath catching, body already leaning toward him like muscle memory.

and even after all the warning signs going off in your head, every scar whispering don’t, you can’t help but want him.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 23. wednesday.

there was a knock on your door. you didn’t have to look through the peephole to know who it was.

you consider not opening it. pretend you weren’t home. an internal conflict going on between your mind and your heart. one half of you aching for him, the other half gripping onto the remaining boundary you had left.

you sigh, dragging your feet across the door, fingers hesitating on the knob.

“kitten, i know you’re there, the light is on,” mark’s voice announces through the other door. the nickname didn’t feel harmless anymore. it felt like a hand reaching through a door you were trying desperately to seal shut. a reminder of the closeness you’d let happen. the thing you swore wouldn’t need again.

“i brought food,” he added, tone lighter this time. like this could be another normal night of movies and food and silence where feelings should go.

you hated how much you wanted it. hated how you unlocked the door and pulled it open, meeting the brown warm eyes that was so dangerous. he was in one of his hoodies that always looked too comfortable, takeout in his arms with an expression that you couldn’t quite read. or maybe you didn’t want to.

“i thought we could watch spider-man 3, it’s the last tobey one,” he said, raising the food like it was some sort of offering.

you stepped aside wordlessly, letting him in and he walked in like he always did. like he belonged here, in your space. he removed his shoes, placed everything on the coffee table, sat on his side of the couch like everything was normal. like nothing happened. like those words didn’t leave his mouth and had you stuck on him ever since. like he hadn’t said something too big for this setup you had.

and you let him. you followed the script too. you dimmed the lights, grabbed the blanket from the side of the couch and pulled it over both of your legs, hit play on the movie.

for a while, neither of you said a word. until the movie reached a lull and you realized not a single joke has been said between you. you sneak a look at him only to find he was already looking at you.

“why are you looking at me like that?,” you whisper into the night air.

“like what?,” he deflected, smile barely there.

you raise a brow, giving him a pointed look, but your heart is already thudding, “like that,” you murmur.

mark’s smile fades into something quieter. something real. his eyes didn’t leave yours, “maybe i’m just trying to memorize you,” he said softly, like the words had been sitting on his tongue for days. it was quiet and honest. and it wrecked you.

your chest tightened. heat crept up your neck, blooming beneath your skin, but it wasn’t the good kind. it was panic, nostalgia, longing, everything you’d spent years trying to outrun. you blinked fast, trying to swallow the ache, the confusion, the hope. you couldn’t hold his gaze.

then his hand moved, gentle, almost afraid, thumb brushing over your thigh, “does this really have to end after finals?,” he asked. his voice wasn’t playful. there was something almost broken in it. something that wanted more.

you look down at his hand. it’s warm. steady.

you forced your voice into something light, something distant, “what do you mean mark?,” you play dumb, “you can still come over, we can still hang out and watch movies.”

“you know that’s not what i mean, y/n,” his voice cut clean through you. he looked at you like you held the whole world and you hated it. because you’ve seen that look in someone else’s eyes before and you remember how that story ended.

“i want you.” he said. he’s always been upfront, the kind of guy who goes for exactly what he wants. honest. no confusion. he wasn’t going to stop that just because what he wanted now was a little different than usual.

“—not just the movie nights. i want to be able to kiss you without wondering if i’m crossing the line. i want to hold your hand. i don’t want to have to leave.”

you could hear it in his voice, that he meant every word. that he was laying himself bare. your lungs were full of things you’ve never said. fears you never voiced.

“do you want me because you want me,” you whispered, “or because you need me?”

the room went still. mark blinked, caught off guard. his face twisted in confusion. he didn’t understand the question. “what’s the difference?”

you nodded once, slowly, even though he didn’t get it. especially because he didn’t get it. that was all the confirmation you needed. the quiet confirmation of every fear you've been carrying. your thoughts spiraled, fast and breathless – he saw you as the person who kept him from falling apart, not the person who could be loved on her own terms. you didn’t want to be a need. you wanted to be a choice. wanted to be loved for your fire, your flaws, your silence, your mess. all of it.

you pulled the blanket off, stood up, walked toward the kitchen under the disguise of grabbing water but you really just needed the distance, needed to breathe.

behind you, mark didn’t move. the space where you’d just been now empty and echoing. the movie played on, some forgotten scene washing the walls in flickering color, fading into the background. all he could hear was the question that you’d asked. the silence that followed after he said the wrong thing. the way you walked away like you were holding yourself together with a string.

he stood slowly, following you into the kitchen, footsteps soft like he was afraid he’d scare you off if he made too much noise. you were standing there, back to him.

“i didn’t mean it like that,” he said, voice low, careful.

when you didn’t respond, he continued, “i don’t need you like a fix,” he stepped closer, gently, slowly. and then, he lets his confessions stumble into the night air. all of the words he’d been dying to tell you.

“i want you like—,” his voice broke slightly, “like i want to wake up with you next to me, i want to know your favorite things, i want your sarcasm, your bad jokes, i want to be the one you call when your day’s gone to shit or when someone tells you a funny story and you just have to share it with someone, i want all the parts you hide. that’s what i meant.”

he was so close now. you closed your eyes and it terrifies you how much you wanted that too.

“i’ve been through this before, mark,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i gave someone everything and he only loved me because he needed me, because it was easy at first. not the real me. not the mess. not the scared, guarded, overthinking, too-much me.”

mark stepped closer until there was barely space between you.

“y/n, i’m not him,” he says, voice full of conviction, “let me prove it. if it takes time, i’ll wait. if you need space, i’ll give it. but please stop acting like none of this is real, stop acting like this was all just tutoring and sex. don’t shut me out because someone else couldn’t handle you. because i can. i want to.”

you stared at the floor. every wall you’d built over the years was trembling in your chest, all of them threatening to collapse and you were desperately trying to keep them together. he was saying everything you’d ever needed someone to say. yet you can’t find it in yourself to believe him.

your fear was louder than your hope.

“i need space,” you breathed. it was all you could manage. your voice almost gave out on the last word.

mark stilled, his throat bobbed as he swallowed. then he stepped back. just once. and said, gently, “okay.”

he didn’t try to kiss you or hold you or close the space between you with anything physical. and that, more than anything, told you this wasn’t about need.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 25. friday.

the knock came again. you hadn’t expected it, your heart climbing straight into your throat.

you hadn’t spoken since that night. you told him you needed space and to his credit, he gave it. though as soon as he left you wanted him back. you couldn’t even understand your own emotions anymore.

he didn’t call. didn't text and even though it’s only been two days — the silence had been deafening.

your hand hovered near the doorknob again, just like it had before. like you were caught in a loop.

“y/n?,” his voice was softer this time. not playful, not teasing, just quiet and raw, “i…i got my results.”

you closed your eyes, just listening to his voice and the way he was able to shut down all the other voices in your head.

“i haven’t checked it yet,” he added after a beat, “i didn’t want to do it alone.”

something in you cracked and you opened the door. mark stood there, phone in hand, eyes tired and bloodshot like he hadn’t slept well in days. he didn’t step in this time. he just looked at you like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed. you didn’t say anything. just stepped aside, letting him in. he walked in slowly, like he was afraid he might wake something fragile in the room. you followed him to the couch, sat next to him, close enough to touch but not touching.

he sat with his phone in his palm, screen still black, staring at it.

“just open it,” you said quietly, finally breaking the silence.

he turned to you, eyes searching, “i can’t do it,” he says, handing you the phone “you open it for me.”

you grab it from him, clicking the school’s app and reloading the screen, waiting for the results. the second felt too long, mark’s legs anxiously bouncing, you looked up at him with an expression he couldn’t read and his throat catches.

then in one second, your grin grew wider, “you passed!,” you cheered, laughter bubbling from your lips. he hasn’t realized how much he missed that sound until now. the past few days have definitely been an emotional turmoil.

mark blinked, “i..i did?,”

you nodded, laughing again, eyes shining, “you did, mark! look,” you say, shoving the phone in his face.

for a beat, he just stared at you, like he didn’t quite believe it. then it all hit him at once, a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding finally exhaled. relief, pride, disbelief all crashing into his chest in one wave.

and before he could stop himself he pulled you into his lap in a mini victory, both of you laughing, excited, happy. his arms wrapped around you tight, burying his face into your shoulder like this was the only place he ever wanted to be. you hug him just as tight, now straddling him, arms curled around him as you both bask in his victory, your laughter’s harmonizing in the air.

after a few seconds, your body relaxed into his and for the first time in days, it felt easy again, natural. like muscle memory. like this was where you both belonged.

“i knew you could do it,” you murmured near his ear, voice soft. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still holding onto your side like didn’t want to let go yet.

and maybe it was the adrenaline in your system. maybe it was the look on his face. or maybe it was the way his hands lingered on your waist. but you didn’t think.

you leaned in and kissed him.

it was gentle, like asking a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to. he kissed you back with no hesitation, no second guessing. just the feeling of your lips in his, warm and certain.

mark’s hand cup your jaw like you were something breakable and important all at once. there was a slight tremble in his touch, like he couldn’t believe you were letting him this close. terrified that one wrong move would send you running.

the kiss wasn’t desperate, it wasn’t rushed. it was everything that hadn’t been said, missing each other in a way neither of you had admitted.

your hand curled into the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you steady. your body swayed forward without permission, knowing what it wanted before your mind could catch up. his forehead dropped to yours and for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“i missed you,” you whispered, voice shaking. his eyes fluttered shut at the words, something raw flickering across his features. he kissed you again, slow and intentional. like he needed you to feel every unsaid thing he did not know how to say.

the kiss deepened, soft lips parting, breath mingling. his hand moved down, tracing your spine as he pulled you closer and every inch of your body hummed with anticipation. you tugged on his black shirt, tugging it over his head. you helped each other undress with quiet urgency, fingertips brushing skin, lips reconnecting in between.

mark grabs your thighs, gently lifting you up and turning you over to lay you down on the couch. he hovered over you, eyes dragging slowly down the length of your body, memorizing every line, every curve.

“you’re so beautiful,” he breathed, brushing your hair from your forehead.

your throat tightened.

he trailed kisses over your jaw, your neck, the slope of your shoulder, your breasts. every kiss feeling like a promise. his hands were everywhere, trailing over your waist, the dip of your hip, down your thigh, slow and warm and reverent. he took his time. worshipped every inch like he didn't want to miss a second of this.

he knew exactly where to touch you. knew the spots that ignited that fire in your stomach. he pushes your panties to the side and when his mouth finally found the place between your legs, you gasped, back arching. he groaned at the sound, at the taste of you, gripping your thighs gently, keeping you open for him. he watched your every reaction, paid attention to all of your sinful moans like it was his favorite song. his tongue moved, licking and circling and sucking until you were gasping his name, eyes fluttering shut, legs shaking around his shoulders.

your fingers laced through his, grabbing onto him like he was the last thing keeping you there. and when you came, it hit hard, head thrown back, toes curling. he stayed right there, drawing it out, licking through every wave. he kissed his way back up your body, slow and open mouthed until you pulled him back to your lips, tasting yourself on his tongue.

“mark,” you whispered, breathless, “bedroom.”

you didn’t have to say it again. mark grabbed your thighs, picking you up with ease, his bare chest warm against yours, legs wrapped around him, heartbeat thudding in rhythm with your own as he carried you to your bedroom. the air between you is charged and fragile in a way it had never been before. as soon as your back hit the mattress, you pulled him down to meet you. lips meeting again. but it wasn’t like the other times. there was no reckless rush, no frantic need. this kiss was deeper. slower. like he wanted to taste every part of you that had been out of reach until now.

his weight settled over you, grounding, familiar but all too different. he kissed you like he was afraid this might be the last time. touching you like he was memorizing you all over again, not your body, he already knew that – but you.

the way you sighed when his fingers brushed over your hips. the way your breath hitched when his lips settled over that sensitive spot below your ear. the way your hands roamed over his back, curling at the base of his spine like you didn’t know how to keep him close enough.

then suddenly, he stopped. bracing himself on his forearms, forehead pressed to yours, “wait,” he murmured, breathing hard, like it physically hurt to not be touching you.

you blinked, disoriented by the sudden break in heat as he curses under his breath, “i-i didn’t bring a condom…i didn’t expect to–,”

“i-i should have some,” you turned quickly, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand only to find your box of condoms empty.

you looked at him. he looked at you. a beat of silence passing in between you.

his hand found yours, warm brown eyes boring into yours, “we don’t have to.”

“do you want me?,” your voice cracked a little and that’s when you realized your throat was tight, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

“of course i do, kitten,” he said, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, “but i want you, not just this.”

“i want you, too,” you whisper like you were sharing a secret. his breath hitched. whole body stilling. you saw the moment he gave in, the exact second his restraint cracked.

“i-i’ll pull out,” he mumbled, still trying to be careful.

“i’m on the pill mark,” you said softly, “you can stay inside.” something in him faltered, his breath hitched, eyes darkening. he kissed you again, slower than before, more tentative, like he needed to make sure you meant it.

he lines himself up against your core, giving you one last look for confirmation and when you nod, granting him permission, he finally gave in to what you both wanted. he slid into you slowly, carefully, his forehead pressed to yours, breaths tangling. you felt the tremble in his arms, the shudder that worked through him as he sank fully into you – making you feel full, whole, complete.

you both stilled, letting the moment settle.

you’d done this before. countless times. fast, rough, unspoken. but it had never felt like this. this felt like new territory. this felt like falling.

this wasn’t about sex. this was about every word you’d left unsaid.

your hands roamed up his back, fingernails grazing over the muscles there and his body responded to every touch, arching into you slightly. you could feel every vein on his cock, every twitch, every pulse. he moved slowly, deeper than he had before, watching your face for every flicker of reaction.

mark’s hand came up to brush the hair from your cheek, as he littered kisses from your cheekbones, along your jaw, every inch of skin he could find, “i was made for you” he whispered.

your chest ached, eyes burned. you didn’t know what to do with those words so instead you pulled him closer and kissed him hard. desperate to shut him up. to shut yourself up. to make the ache go away. every movement was slow, sensual, too vulnerable. every inch of your skin between you whispering i missed you, don’t leave again, please feel what i’m feeling.

his hand laced with yours, fingers locking tight, fitting together like two connecting pieces of a puzzle. it was all too much. the way he stayed close, nose brushing your cheek. the way he murmured your name under his breath like it was the only word he knew.

you whispered his name when that coil in your stomach started to tighten, the pressure ready to be released, tension curling through your body. he kissed your temple, your cheekbone, your mouth, over and over again as you came undone beneath him. your legs trembled, breath hitched, back arching as he talked you through it, murmuring praises in your ear.

he followed soon after, body shuddering against yours as he gave in, marking your walls, a grunt of your name spilling from his lips. and even then, he didn’t let go of your hand. he stayed inside you long after, face buried in the curve of your neck, body heavy over yours in the best way. neither of you said anything, just basking in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

you’ve never felt fuller. the feeling of skin on skin. of a truth too big to name yet.

and when he pulled out, you felt the loss of him like a jolt. your body throbbed, empty and aching. he reached for the tissues on your bedside table, gently wiping away the mess you two made.

you swallowed hard, “mark-”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and open and unguarded in a way you’d never seen before. he was just as scared as you. scared that you would push him away again, “please,” he begs, “don’t make me leave.”

“i don’t know how to do this,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t know how to accept this.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word. that one word lingering in both of your tongues.

mark’s face softened, something inside him cracking at your words. he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours again, “we can figure it out,” he says, “but we don’t have to figure it all out tonight…for tonight let's just…stay here.”

your eyes stung. he wasn’t asking for promises. he wasn’t demanding answers. he was just asking you not to run. not yet. you nodded and he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. neither of you said anything after that. he shifted beside you, pulling you into his arms, your body curling naturally into the space against his chest. one of his hands wrapped around your back, the other held your hand like he was scared you would just disappear.

you laid there, wrapped in him, your heart a mess of silence and scars. listening to the beat of his heart. trying to believe this could be real.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you whispered into his skin.

“you already do,” he murmured, raw and honest, brushing his lips to your hair.

“i’m sorry.”

“there’s nothing to be sorry for, kitten. i’d rather be hurt with you than feel nothing without you,” he whispers, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. your eyes fluttered closed at that, too tired to hold everything in your chest. too afraid of what would happen when morning came. but for right now, in this moment, you let yourself stay.

and somewhere between his breathing and the ache in your chest, you fell asleep in his arms, tangled up in a mess of limbs, heartbreak and that word you both can’t say.

ᓚᘏᗢ april 26. saturday.

mark woke up to the soft morning light filtering in through your bedroom window, stretching across the sheets like a quiet whisper. the space beside him cold. his hand reached out before his eyes even opened, instinctively searching for you, but the space was empty, only leaving behind the shape of your figure.

his brows furrowed as he sat up slowly, blanket slipping off his chest. the room felt too still. like the warmth had left with you. he got up, heart tightening as his bare feet hits the floor, pulling on his sweats as he stepped into your living room — empty.

no note. no text. no sound of the shower. just silence. the kind of silence that presses on your ribs and makes everything feel heavier than it should.

mark exhaled slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. this wasn’t new – this disappearing act of yours, distant and cold. but it hurt more today. especially after last night. after they way you kissed him like you meant it. the way you held him like you wanted him. the way you made love to him like you loved him.

he sat down on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. the victory of passing his finals felt like a faded memory now. and maybe you were just getting breakfast? maybe you were getting coffee? maybe you went out for a quick walk? but deep down, he knew better.

because when someone leaves without saying goodbye, it’s never just about getting coffee – it’s about fear. about retreat. about trying to stuff last night back into that box. a box where it doesn’t fit anymore.

he didn’t know what would happen next but he made you a promise and he’s determined to keep it. even if you never let him this close again. even if this was the last night he’d get to love you the way he wanted to. but he wouldn’t push. he wouldn’t beg. he wouldn’t ask you to feel more than you were ready to. he knew your walls were built from heartbreak and survival and he would never try to tear them down.

but he’ll show up — quietly, steadily, solid where you expected everyone to vanish. he wouldn’t ask for anything in return. not your love, not your certainty, not even your presence. just the chance to exist nearby. just the permission to care.

you didn’t have to earn his love by loving him back.

and if someday you turned around and realized you didn’t want to be alone anymore. he’d be here, welcoming you with open arms.

⟢

you hadn’t meant to leave like that. not really.

you told yourself it was just a short walk. just some air. just to clear your head before the morning got too loud and the reality of your actions settled in too deep.

your lips still felt the ghost of his. your skin still hummed with the way he touched you like he knew you — not just the version you showed him on movie nights and tutoring sessions, but the messy, terrified, too much version you’d spent years trying to hide. he kissed you like he wasn’t afraid of her. and that pushed you further down your fears.

you didn’t know if you were allowed to believe in it. so you left. not to hurt him. never too hurt him. but to protect yourself. protect him from you. to build the distance before you both could fall all the way in.

you couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when you told him he passed — a mixture of excitement and bittersweet emotion clearly on display. the way he hugged you like you were home. and then, god, you kissed him. and for the first time in forever, kissing someone didn’t feel like an escape. you swallowed hard. you were so afraid of these emotions. of needing him.

you went back home when the sun was down, mark nowhere to be seen, except for a note left on your coffee table, written in mark’s handwriting:

“call me if you need me.”

just simple words that made your chest ache.

if. not when.

he wasn’t expecting you to need him. wasn’t asking you to lose yourself again, to shrink, to bleed out the softest parts of you just to keep him. he wasn’t trying to save you or fix you or unravel you for the sake of making you his.

he left you a choice, control fully in your hands. a door, cracked open.

if you need me.

not a condition. not a plea. just kindness wrapped in restraint. not loud or overwhelming. not all-consuming. just patient. just quiet. just there.

ᓚᘏᗢ one week later. may 3. saturday.

you never contacted him. you didn’t know how to face him.

some days, you’d go home to take-out waiting for you by the door, still warm, like he’d just left. there were messages left in your phone. messages that you read over and over again, finger hovering above the keyboard. a reminder that mark was still there. that he still cares.

you just didn’t know what to do with that.

“c’mon y/n, come to the party at the wayv frat tonight,” your best friend, yeri, says through the phone, her voice bright and pleading.

“yeri, i don’t really feel like partying,” you sigh, voice low and dull.

“y/n, you can’t push us away too, we’re your friends,” she says more firmly now.

you told her all about it a couple nights ago, over the fried chicken mark left at your doorstep, the soju in your fridge and a loose tongue that couldn’t keep your pain in any longer.

you spilled everything. what happened with mark, how it started, how it ended and yeri almost killed you with your own pillow. you can still hear her voice now, going through every stage of disbelief like it was a full-blown performance.

she went from, “are you kidding me?! mark lee?!,”followed by a dramatic gasp and a mischievous smirk, “was he good?? was he big?,” then came the pause, wide eyes, jaw dropping surprise “he said he only wanted one girl!!?? THE mark lee?? wanting one girl???,” and then her voice cracked, eyes misting as she whispered, “he wanted to know your favorite things?!?!” like it was the most romantic thing she’d ever heard.

and then she strangled you with your own pillow when you got to the end of the story.

she was very much #teammark at the moment.

she was tired of your self sabotaging, your walls, your stubbornness — the way you rejected affection like it was poison. the way you flinched from being needed. from being loved. she understood it came from a place in your past. she never dismissed that pain. but she firmly reminded you that you can’t let your past haunt you forever. that the echoes of what hurt you, the ghosts that whisper you’re unlovable or unsafe, should not define the life you’re living now. she gave you an entire pep talk talking about how you can’t keep holding someone with one hand while the other is clinging to everything that once went wrong. and maybe the love in front of you isn’t perfect, maybe it’s messy and complicated and terrifying but it’s here and it’s real and it could be everything only if you let it.

“look,” yeri cuts through your train of thought,, “mina, doyeon, and ningning will be there too, okay, “you’re the only one that's going to be missing.”

you hesitate.

“he probably won’t even be there,” she adds quickly, “the dream frat most likely has their own party going on tonight.”

you don’t believe her. especially since you knew the dream frat was still under observance from that fight jeno threw.

“i don’t know…,” you say.

“c’mon,” she says, softer this time, “it’s the end of finals, we deserve to let loose and have fun,” she tries, one more time.

you exhale slowly, already halfway convinced.

“...fine.” you mutter, earning a bubbly scream from the other side.

⟢

the music is loud the moment you step through the door, laughter spilling down the hallways, the scent of cheap beer and fruity vape lingering in the air. you’re already regretting the black dress hugging your body, the heels, and the fact that you let yeri talk you into this.

“shots first!,” she yells over the music, dragging you toward the room. you spot familiar faces, mina waving from across the room, doyeon chatting up a pretty girl, ningning locked in an intense game of beer pong with a guy in sunglasses — it’s all the usual chaos. familiar. almost comforting.

you let the noise wash over you, grateful for the distraction until yeri stiffens beside you. you know before you even turn. he’s here — mark lee, leaning casually against the wall across the room, red cup in hand. he’s mid-conversation with a boy you knew, xiaojun – music major, member of the wayv fraternity, also a guy you tutored.

he was laughing, looking relaxed until he saw you.

and everything stops.

almost like you were the only two in the room.

his smile falters. eyes lock with yours. like he didn’t expect you to be here. doesn’t know what to do now that you’re both standing in the same room again.

you forget how to breathe for a second.

“y/n…,” yeri starts, but you shake your head, breaking away from his gaze.

“i’m fine.” you’re not.

but that’s what you tell her, forcing a smile, “let’s get those shots,” you manage to say as you and yeri slip into the kitchen. looking for something to drink. preferably something strong.

⟢

he hadn’t planned on staying long. he hasn’t really been in the mood for parties this whole week. it was too loud, too crowded, too many people and none of them were you.

but chenle, haechan and jisung kept dragging him out night after night, insisting he just needed to “get back out there.”

it hasn’t worked — he wasn’t interested in anyone else, no matter how pretty his friends say they were. all he could think about was you.

he sees you in the spiderman figurines he had in his room. he sees you in the half-eaten pizza box that the boys had ordered, where he could practically hear your laugh. he sees you in his notes. in every damn song that plays. in the stray cat that kept curling up on their lawn. the basketball court. the library. every corner he found himself in is a memory of you.

and sex has been different since that night. not after what you’d shared. not after what it felt like to be wanted like that, to want like that. he didn’t even know if he could go back to casual anymore, especially after feeling intimacy that intense.

so yeah, the plan was simple, he was gonna show up for a bit, make his rounds, say hi to his friends then dip. lock himself up in his room. back to waiting for your call.

he didn’t expect to see you but there you were, walking through the crowd.

and he wished he looked a little better. put a little more effort into his outfit. but truth to be told, he didn't think he had anyone to impress. his light stubble has grown in. he was only in a plain white shirt and black jeans. he didn't even bother styling his hair.

one second, he’s laughing at something xiaojun said, the next the breath gets knocked out of him — you walked in like you didn’t want to be there but still looking so effortlessly beautiful. the walls you’ve been hiding behind standing tall all around you.

every instinct tells him to go to you but his feet stay planted, the grip on his cup tightening.

“dude,” xiaojun says, mid-sentence, eyebrows raising, “are you even listening to me?”

mark doesn’t answer, he watches your eyes sweep the room and then land on him.

everything else disappears.

he doesn’t even hear the music anymore. the crowd becomes nothing more than a blur of faceless shapes, none of them worth noticing.

you still have that look in your eyes. that haunted, guarded look he’s seen too many times. the one that says i want to let you in, but i can’t afford to be hurt again.

you break the contact first, of course you do. he can’t help but continue to stare.

“okay,” xiaojun says suddenly, setting down his drink. “that’s it. i’m introducing you.”

mark’s head snaps toward him, “wait, what?”

“don’t know what happened to you, man but you’ve clearly lost your game,” his friend shrugs, already grabbing mark by the sleeve, “i got this. stop being a pussy, i’ll be your wingman.”

mark resists, suddenly very aware of his surroundings, planting his feet, “no…xiaojun, wait, you don’t understand–”

“she’s super chill,” xiaojun interrupts confidently, “smart as hell, kind of terrifying at first glance but definitely nice. i got you, don’t worry.”

“xiaojun…seriously–” mark hisses, digging his heels in, heart pounding in panic now, “we already…we know each other.”

but xiaojun didn’t hear him. too excited. too focused at playing matchmaker and hauling him toward the kitchen. “you can thank me later,” he grins, “just let me cook.”

mark’s stomach sinks. his hands are clammy. he’s seconds away from bolting. and then you turn around, cup in hand, mid-sip, just as xiaojun barrels into the kitchen with mark reluctantly in tow.

“y/n!,” xiaojun calls cheerfully. mark looks like he’s been dragged into hell itself, his eyes sending you an apology and you can’t help the way your brows lift.

“oh my god,” you whisper under your breath, choking on your drink and mark has to physically stop himself from reaching out to check if you are okay. you curse the fact that you let yeri leave you alone just a few seconds ago.

xiaojun beams, “i want you to meet my friend! this is mark. mark this is y/n..she used to tutor me back in the day. super scary, very smart,” you can’t help but raise a brow at his description, “anyway, you two should totally talk,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

mark gives you a look like he wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole. his voice comes out tight, strained, like it hurts to speak, “hey.”

you glance at mark. he glances at you. and somehow, without saying anything, you both decide to play along.

“nice to meet you,” you say coolly, extending a hand like you haven’t seen every inch of him in moments you’re trying very hard to forget.

mark straightens up, his face schooled into a neutral smile. he takes your hand and his touch lingers just a little too long, bringing up feelings you tried so hard to push away, “same here.”

xiaojun beams, totally buying it, “see? told you i got you,” he whispers, making you quip a brow.

mark doesn’t look away from you, “so…you used to tutor xiaojun?”

you nod, keeping your expression composed, “yeah, freshman year. he was failing basic algebra.”

xiaojun gasps in mock offence, “i had a C-”

“which is failing,” you shoot back without missing a beat.

mark chuckles under his breath, eyes crinkling, “sounds like you were a tough tutor.”

“that depends on who i’m tutoring,” you say, like you didn’t spend the past month tutoring him.

xiaojun claps his hands together, clearly pleased with himself, “this is going great. i’m so good at at this. i should charge people.”

“oh yeah,” mark says, playing along, nodding solemnly. “you should definitely monetize your matchmaking business.”

“maybe i will!,” xiaojun grins, painstakingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension thickening between you two, “anyway, i’m gonna go and leave you two alone. you guys get to know each other. don’t do anything i wouldn’t do!,” he winks and disappears back into the party.

and just like that, the mask drops. the space between you crackling.

mark raises an eyebrow, “nice to meet you, huh?”

you shrug, “you started it.”

he smirks faintly, “you didn’t have to shake my hand like we were at a networking event.”

“well, you didn’t have to look so charmed by it,” you shoot back and for a second it all feels too normal. just two friends caught in their playful banter.

⟢

ᓚᘏᗢ now.

“it’s good to see you,” he says, a little quieter now, smirk fading just slightly. you falter at that but instead of running, instead of deflecting, you hold his gaze.

“so,” you say, attempting a half-smile, “do you come here often, mark?”

he chuckles but the sound fades quickly. the amusement doesn’t last in his eyes. you were doing it again. masking your feelings behind a joke. trying to find an out. trying to stall the inevitable — and he stopped playing this game a long time ago. has stopped holding back.

“you didn’t call.”

your smile drops, “mark–,”

“that night,” he cuts in softly, but there’s something raw under his voice now, “i woke up and you were gone.”

the kitchen feels smaller. the party noise beyond the door fades to a muffled hum.

“i didn’t know what to say,” you murmur, voice almost lost under the thump of bass in the other room.

“you didn’t have to say anything,” he says, “i just wanted you to stay.”

you look away but mark steps forward. not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off of him.

“i kept checking my phone,” he goes on, “every morning when i wake up, every night before i go to bed. i watched you read my messages and i thought maybe you just needed time.”

“—i waited,” he continues, voice shaking now, “i left food by your door, i didn’t even care if you didn’t text back, i just wanted you to know i’m still here.”

you press your lips together, holding everything in.

“i didn’t want that night to end,” he goes on, quieter now, “and maybe i was stupid for thinking you felt the same way but–”

he breathes in, eyes locking onto yours. you try to tell him to stop but your voice betrays you. and mark could no longer hold back the words he’s been wanting to say.

“i fell in love with you.”

your heart stutters. that one phrase making you want to run.

“and i’m still in love with you,” he finishes, like a final breath. like he’s cutting himself open and bleeding honesty, the words slamming into your chest.

“we only had two rules, mark,” you managed to whisper, voice quiet and broken.

mark takes a shaky step closer, heart in his throat, “tell me you don’t feel it then,” he said quietly. his voice wasn’t angry, just tired, broken, desperate.

“look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me…that you don’t feel anything when i look at you like this and i’ll stop. i’ll leave you alone.”

you freeze. you didn’t answer right away. because you did feel it — you felt it in your chest, in your stomach, in the way the world always seemed to go a little quieter when he was around. you feel it in the ache that never went away after that night. you feel it in the way he says your name like it’s something holy. but that truth was too dangerous. too real.

so you hardened your voice, you shove it so far down you almost believe the lie yourself.

“i don’t feel it.”

you looked him dead in the eye, even though it nearly broke you. mark’s face falls but you don’t stop there. you lift your chin, meeting his gaze and finally twisting the knife in both of you.

“i don’t love you.”

his face didn’t crumble. didn’t twist in pain. he just stilled – silent, hollow stillness. the words knocking the breath from his lungs in one brutal blow. his eyes search your face like he’s trying to find a hole in your armor – something to tell him you don’t mean it.

you walked away, leaving him in the kitchen and disappearing into the crowd before he can see the way your hand trembles. before he can see the way your heart is breaking too. every step away from him felt heavier than the last. your throat felt like it was strangling your heartbeat. every breath scraped your ribs like regret trying to crawl out of your chest.

you told yourself not to look back. not to care. this is for the better. he deserves someone better. someone who knew what they wanted. someone who can give him the love he has to give without flinching.

you did the right thing. for the both of you.

you ignore your friend’s calls. focused only on trying to get as far away from this place as possible. and yet, as you passed through the living room, something ridiculous stopped you cold — someone was messing with a money gun. dozens of dollar bills floating all around you, spinning through the air like confetti in slow motion. you scoffed before you could stop yourself, bitter and breathless at the irony.

you pushed forward anyway, trying to control your tears, making your way through the bodies and out into the front lawn. you manage to make it a couple feet away.

but then…fingers, warm and gentle, wrapped around your wrist, turning you towards his tear-filled eyes as he caught up to you, breathless.

“what are you so afraid of?” mark asked, eyes wide, wild with a mixture of hope and desperation.

“what is it that terrifies you so much you’d rather lie to my face than admit what we have?”

his words cracked something open inside you. that was it. the last of your resolve breaking apart. your defenses collapsed.

“you, mark!,” your voice broke, full of too many emotions you could no longer control, “i’m afraid of you!”

he blinked, startled. you didn’t let the silence catch up.

“i’m afraid of what you make me feel,” you said, voice unraveling.

“i’m afraid because i’m in love with you too. and i don’t want to be!”

the tears came fast and hot but you no longer cared about the strong front you’ve been trying to keep up.

“—because the last time i fell in love, it destroyed me. i gave everything to someone who promised they’d stay and they left. and i had to build myself back up from nothing and i swore i’d never let myself feel like that again.”

mark took a slow step closer. like he was approaching something sacred.

“i don’t want to become her again,” you choked out, “the girl who wakes up wondering if today is the day everything falls apart. the one who clings too tightly. the one who ruins everything because she wants too much.”

“you’re not her anymore,” he said softly, like he was holding your heart in his hands., “you’re stronger now. you know who you are. and if things fall apart,” his voice cracked, his own tears falling, “i’ll still be there, i’m not going to leave you.”

you shook your head, tears falling freely, “you don't know that! what if i mess it up? what if i’m too much?”

“then i’ll stay anyway,” he said, voice trembling with conviction, “i’ll stay and remind you every single time that you're not too much. that you’re worth loving.”

you looked up at him, ready to break again but his words make you freeze, “and i’m scared too.”

mark swallowed hard.

“i’ve never been in love before,” he said. “not like this. not even close and i don’t know what i’m doing. i’m scared i’ll say the wrong thing. that i’ll mess this up. that i’ll love you too much or not enough or in the wrong way”

he let out a shaky breath, gaze locked on yours.

“but i’m willing to learn. i'm willing to fall. because i'm scared of losing you the most and i’d rather be scared with you than go my whole life without you in it…without trying.”

his eyes bored into yours, wide and unguarded, filled with that same fear you’d been carrying. you realized then that you weren't so different. just two souls wanting to love and be loved, both terrified of what it might cost.

and if he was brave enough to jump, you weren’t going to let him fall alone — with that, the last wall inside you crumbled and you reached for him.

mark pulls you into his arms like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life. there, under the stars and distant music, you clung to him, allowing yourself to want him. your chest heaved against his, tears soaking into his t-shirt. and still, he held you tighter.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice hoarse, “i’m just…i’m so scared.”

“i know,” he murmured back, “it’s okay. i’m here.”

he rocked you gently like your pain had a rhythm only he understood. he didn’t know what else to do but hold you.

eventually your tears slowed. your breathing evened out. your fingers loosened from their desperate grip. you stayed in his arms a moment longer, heart pressed into his chest. committing it to memory like it was a song you never wanted to forget.

then you pull back, just enough to look up at him. your lashes were damp, eyes still glassy, “i meant it,” you said, barely above a whisper, “i love you.”

his eyes searched yours, not for doubt, but for the truth. and when he found it, unguarded, soft, scared, real, his hold on your waist tightens just a tiny bit like he couldn’t believe this was real and not something he’d dreamed up in all the nights he spent missing you.

mark leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. you don’t. his lips brushed yours, featherlight at first, then deeper, steadier, like exhaling after holding his breath for years. you kissed him back like it was the only thing you knew how to do — your heart had spent so long trying to run away from this very feeling and now it was collapsing into it with both arms wide open.

no more running. just you and him and the promise of something real. not something that had an expiration date marked by final exams and end of sessions.

he smiled against your lips. you pulled away, the smallest, tearful laugh catching in your throat.

“so…what do we do now?,” you asked, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, though your voice was still soft. still fragile from everything it had admitted. and your eyes only had room for his reflection.

mark raised a hand, thumb gently brushing a tear from your cheek, “well,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “i would love to take you out on a date.”

and this time, when you smiled…it felt like the beginning.

ᓚᘏᗢ the next day.

mark knocks at your door at exactly 6:00P.M. a little more dressed up than usual, his face freshly shaved, hair styled perfectly, a bouquet of white roses behind his back.

you open the door and his breath catches. the red dress you're wearing stops just above your knees, hugging your curves in all the right places. its bold and subtle all at once, elegant neckline, bare shoulders.

you see the shift in his expression instantly, eyes widening, lips parting slightly.

“kitten,” he breathes out, recovering just enough to let a smirk tug on his lips “are you trying to cancel our date?”

your brows furrow in amusement, “what?”

he lets out a soft laugh, eyes still tracing the length of you. “how do you expect me to not want to have my hands all over you until this is off?” he says, a hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you gently against him, already losing his inner battle.

a playful smirk appears on your lips, “hey, buy a girl dinner first,” you say, pressing your palm to his chest to push him back, just a little.

he chuckles, deep and warm, eyes twinkling as he finally brings the bouquet around “for you, kitten.”

you take the flowers with a soft, surprised smile “these are beautiful mark, thank you,” you say quietly, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips, just a quick one, before slipping back into your apartment. he stays at the door, watching as you make yourself into the kitchen, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. you rummage through your drawers for the vase you rarely use, dusting it off before filling it with water. carefully, you begin arranging the flowers on your coffee table. mark steps inside, closing the door behind him. his arms wrapping around your waist in a back hug.

“you ready?,” he murmurs, a kiss brushing the curve where your neck meets your shoulder.

“mhm,” you smile, reaching down to pat his hand before lacing your fingers with his. his grip is warm, sure. he leads you to the door, locking it behind you as you both step out of your apartment.

“this is kinda weird,” he chuckles as you walk towards his car.

“what? holding my hand,” you say, about to pull your hand away only for his grip to tighten.

“i didn’t say it was bad,” he says quickly, pulling you closer, “i’ve just never held hands with my girlfriend before.”

you chuckle, some things never change.

“oh, i didn’t know i was your girlfriend now?,” you smirk, teasing, a brow raising.

his smile instantly drops, “please say sike,” he mutters, suddenly serious. you burst into laughter and the tension in his shoulder melts. he watches you in awe, like your laugh could break every bone in his body and he’d still ask to hear it again. a smile taking over his features.

“sike,” you say sweetly just as he pokes your side, making you jump. he opens the passenger door for you with a smug look and you slide inside, cheeks warm, heart racing.

mark planned the most romantic, classic first date imaginable. like something ripped right out of a movie montage. candlelight dinner, soft jazz humming in the background and a corner table in a quiet, upscale restaurant where the lighting was dim and golden, casting everything in a dreamy glow. the flicker of the candle between you danced in his eyes, making him look warmer, softer than usual. the low murmur of other diners fading into the background. he pulled out your chair for you like a real gentleman. you ordered your food, sat across from each other, feet brushing beneath the table, half accidental, half deliberated. it was playful and sweet. he smiled every time it happened like he was trying to make you blush without saying a word. and it worked — you couldn’t remember the last time a date felt this intentional, this thoughtfully put together. like someone had wanted to impress you.

“wow, you really did your research, huh?,” you tease him, eyebrows raised, an amused smirk tugging at your lips.

“only the best for my girl,” he winks. you rolled your eyes at the line but the flutter in your chest betrayed you.

the food arrived and for a while you just existed in the moment. complimenting the dishes, laughing about how his plate looked fancier but yours tasted better. he slid a perfectly sliced piece of steak onto your plate without you asking and you absentmindedly twirled a forkful of pasta and held it out to him like it was second nature. like it was something you’ve been doing for years.

then halfway through the meal, mark leans in a little. his elbow resting on the table, chin in hand like he couldn’t help but watch you.

“i don’t know enough about you,” he says suddenly.

you looked up, caught mid-chew and more caught off-guard, “you’ve literally seen me naked, i think you’re doing fine.”

mark laughed — that warm, boyish sound that always cracked you open a little more than you liked to admit. he leaned back slightly, shaking his head, “yeah but i mean know you. like the little things. the stuff people forget to ask but matters more than they think.”

you blinked, slowly setting your fork down, “ok…what do you want to know?”

he lights up like a kid on christmas day, “what’s your favorite color?”

“really, mark?” you laughed, because of all the things he could’ve asked, it was a question as simple as that.

“hey! it’s important especially since i want to buy you gifts,” he shrugs, taking a bite out of his (your) pasta.

you rolled your eyes, smiling anyway “okay. pink.”

mark blinked, surprised. he never would’ve guessed. “pink?”

“mhm,” you said, spearing a bite of the salad in between you, “not like neon pink though but soft pink.”

“didn’t see that coming,” he said grinning. “but it kinda fits…you act all tough but you’re secretly a softie.”

you narrowed your eyes, “careful.”

“just saying,” he chuckled, reaching for his drink.

“alright,” you said, pointing your fork at him, “your turn, favorite color?”

“blue.”

you tilted your head, chewing thoughtfully, a playful grin on your face, “blue because it’s the color of the sky?”

he grinned, “that was the reason…at first,” he said, voice softening, “then you walked up to me, wearing a soft blue sundress during freshman year and the reason changed.”

your fork froze halfway to your mouth. for a second, the air felt heavier, quieter, like the words had rearranged the molecules around you. your eyes widen a little, lips parting as your expression falters between surprise and amusement.

“you remembered what i was wearing?,” you ask in pure disbelief.

“how could i forget?,” he shrugs like he didn’t just confess something that would stay with you for the rest of your life.

“wait…are you saying you’ve had a crush on me since freshman year?,” you asked, your tone teasing.

mark rolled his eyes, but he was still grinning, “i may have had a tiny crush on you back then,” he admits. the smile on your face growing with every second.

the rest of your evening unfolded like a dream you didn’t want to wake from. full of quiet laughter, sharing of favorites and the reason behind them. every answer was like turning a page, revealing another layer neither of you had taken time to read before. between conversation, his hand would find yours, fingers lacing together like they belonged there. he’d brush your knuckles with his thumb, every movement gentle, deliberate. and every now and then, he’d lean over and kiss you. soft, unhurried kisses that made your skin hum and your stomach flip.

by the time you slid back into his car, the air between you was warm and charged, not with tension but with something more open, more vulnerable. he let you have the aux, learning your favorite songs on the ride back. both of you singing along, sometimes out of tune, sometimes laughing too hard. his hand was in yours the whole drive home. you kissed at stop lights. playful pecks that turned into lingering moments. the city moved around you, but you both felt disconnected. stuck in your own world with a population of two.

when he finally pulled up to your place, you were still laughing about something stupid he’d said. and then it got quiet. the kind of the quiet that meant something more. mark walked you to your door, hand still wrapped around yours like he couldn’t let go.

“tonight was really fun,” you said softly , your arm looped around his neck, fingers playing absentmindedly with his hair.

“yeah?,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your temple, lingering there for a beat, “would you say i’m you know…boyfriend material?,” he teased, smirking against your skin.

you huffed a laugh, playfully nudging him with your shoulder, “that was so bad.”

he tilts his head to look at your properly, the mischief fading into something gentler, more sincere, “i had the best time.”

you met his gaze, leaning up to kiss him – slow and sweet. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss for a heartbeat before you pulled back, breathless but smiling.

“goodnight, mark,” you whispered, not quite ready for the night to end.

“goodnight kitten,” he said just as softly.

you slipped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. but your skin still buzzed with his touch, lips still tingling with the memory of his kiss. you leaned against the door, eyes closed, heart racing as the entire night replays in your mind.

outside, mark stares at your door, already missing your presence. he started to bring his fist up for a knock, but then the door opened. again.

he blinked, startled.

you were standing there, eyes already locked on his. you didn’t say a word. neither did he.

because in the next second, he crossed the threshold and kissed you – hard, fast and real. all the restraint of the evening gave way to need. he kicked the door shut behind him, hand blindly finding the lock as his other arm wound around your waist.

you make the familiar steps to your bedroom, lips never leaving his, a quiet gasp escaping you when he lifted you slightly, walking you backward until your knees hit the bed.

and when you made love, it wasn’t rushed or desperate. it was slow, tender. his hands memorized you all over again. his lips marked every inch of your skin. you whispered his name like it meant something new now. he held you like he never wanted to stop.

the morning came and you were still there, wrapped tightly around his arms. body molded perfectly against his like you were always meant to fit there. fingers interlaced like your hands had made a silent promise sometime in the night to never part. mark could see the pink and purple marks blooming where his lips and hands had wandered. he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest — you looked peaceful, like all the weight you usually carried had melted away in the dark, if only for a little while. and in that quiet moment, with the world still hushed around you, he knows that it’s all worth it.

and if he had to do it all over again – the mistakes, the heartache, the waiting. he would. every single time, without hesitation, if it always leads him back to this. back to you. the only thing he’s ever been sure of.

ᓚᘏᗢ

loving mark made you realize that love didn’t have to be a fantasy. it wasn’t all sunshines and rainbows and happily ever afters. but it also wasn’t terrible, screaming at each other at 3am, being left behind on the kitchen floor, crying your eyes out.

it didn’t happen overnight either. there was still fear lingering in the back of your head. but this time you don’t let it take control. this time you don’t let it overpower.

because love with mark is staying, even when you were scared. especially when you were scared. it was comfort and safety. the kind that wrapped around your heart and told you it was okay to let your guard down. it was peace. the kind that didn’t demand you to be anything other than what you were. it was someone showing up at your apartment with your favorite snacks, settling in beside you on the couch while a romcom played and cramps left you curled under a blanket. no pressure to talk. just presence. it’s laughing at terrible jokes until your stomach hurt. arguing about which spiderman was the best. agreeing to disagree, even if you were clearly right. it was fighting over which greasy takeout to get and pretending to be annoyed when he ordered your favorite anyway. it was celebrating the happy moments, the sad moments and everything in between. it’s sticking around when things got hard. still choosing each other when the weight of the world made everything feel heavy. it was learning each other and unlearning old patterns. being patient. building something new, one honest conversation at a time. it was asking, “do you want advice or do you just want me to listen?” it was hearing the answer and respecting it.

it wasn’t about fixing each other or needing someone to fill a space inside you. it was about wanting to be there. it was about choosing to stay again and again and again.

𓏲 the end.

-

18+ only | watch at your own risk | contains mature content

bonus: mark x kitten coded -> video one, video two, video three

-

an: and 3/7 is done! i hit the 1000 text block limit thing on here and it was awful. it’s not my fault they’re both yappers and i write way too much when mark is involved! i hope i was still able to convey the tension and longing in those long ass paragraphs >.< …. anyways, this was supposed to end the moment she walked away but i couldn’t do it! i had to give mark a happy ending, he deserves it!. kitten was so hard to write like why am i writing a character with past trauma and real, raw, emotions that are hitting too close to home… this is supposed to be a fun, silly rom-com. but i hope you liked her! i hope you liked them. thank you for reading! <3

VOTE HERE FOR THE NEXT STORY

likes, reblogs and comments are not required but is very appreciated ⏦ﾟ♡︎

love tags : @bluedbliss @yesohhsehun @tynlvr @sunghoonsgfreal @2sungie @euphormiia @ptv-hades @imnotrosiee @remgeolli

[eli0004]

Greetings!! I saw ur status that ur taking requests? Sooo may I please request nerd!armin 🙏🏻🙏🏻 I'm up for anything even if it's sfw or nsfw tbh I just wanna read something u wrote.<3 I don't really know how to ask for a request cuzz this is my first time.

Thank you ♡

You got it! I can most certainly do that! Thanks for the request ❤️❤️🫶

Nerd!Armin HCs (sfw/nsfw)

Includes: nerd!Armin x Fem!reader

Warnings: sub!armin, panty stealing, vocal sex, oral, fem!bodied reader, perv armin, sexting, smut, subtle manipulation, jealousy, breeding kink, subtle mommy kink, use of ma’am and other titles

Nerd!Armin, my love, my favorite loser 😔🫶 Eren’s childhood best friend and newest addition to your friend group. He is shy and sweet, with his lil graphic tees and flannel shirts, thick glasses low on the bridge of that perfect button nose

He looks at you like you’re the most angelic being he’s ever laid eyes on, you look at him like he’s the cutest little dork you’ve ever seen. He doesn’t know that though.

You caught on pretty quickly. He catches sight of you when he walks in and panics, fluffing his hair, checking his reflection in his phone camera, getting himself in order just to get nervous and quiet every time you say something to him.

The first time you talk it’s about a shirt he’s wearing, his favorite Anime, and crazy coincidence-you happen to have seen it. He doesn’t think you could get any more perfect.

Armin walks away from that conversation all giggly and star struck, and that’s when his two best friends realize what’s going on. They devise a plan to hook you two up and, surprise! It works!

Mikasa is happy that Armin is happy, Eren is happy that his best friend is no longer a virgin, it’s a win for everyone!

When the two of you hang out, it’s usually at home. Armin prefers your house over his, your bed is more comfortable, your tv is bigger and your snacks are better, or so he says.

Really, he’s just not prepared to have to explain thousands of dollars worth of figurines and posters and other strange paraphernalia. He wishes you could see his PC set up though, because he really likes yours.

Most of the time, date nights involve gaming and movies and anime. Occasionally you’ll go grab dinner or walk around the mall together. Armin spends ungodly amounts of money on limited edition things and you scold him for being an irresponsible spender.

Mans is way smarter than all of us though, so he knows how to budget and cut unnecessary costs to afford all the other unnecessary costs

He likes discussing video game lore, and gets extremely passionate about it. Loves conspiracy and discussing hidden meanings and implications in movies and shows and music

Like I have said in some of my other Armin hcs, he LOVES pda, in part because he just always wants to be touching you, and also because he likes having you on his arm. He never imagined he’d be with someone like you, let alone anyone at all, so he gets cocky about it.

Armin gets jealous at the drop of a hat and he’s dramatic asf. If you talk to the pizza delivery guy for too long he’ll pout and whine that you must find him more attractive.

He loves wearing your clothes, sharing clothes, etc. if you have oversized t shirts he will wear the fuck out of them, and they will go missing.

Reeeeally likes to make out, like it’s ridiculous. He’ll take hours out of his day just to lay there with you and kiss you lazily, sloppily, licking into your mouth and sucking on your lower lip and tongue.

Which brings me to nsfw 😍🌶️

This man is LOUDDD

Like obnoxiously loud

He whines and whimpers and moans, you cannot have sex with him when there are people around unless you wanna have to hear complaints about it later

Steals both T shirts AND panties, one to wear, the other to jerk off with

You know, and he knows you know. Eventually you’ll just start giving them to him willingly so he stops taking your good ones.

He loves eating 🐱 more than he loves getting head. He thinks about it constantly, remembering your smell, your taste, the way you squirm. Begs you to sit on his face every time you fuck.

Armin is insatiable. His sex drive is higher than anyone you’ve ever met, and you’ll go at it a few times just in one night.

Pretttyyyyy bedroom eyes. They get so lust blown and hazy, half lidded and his lashes are so long and delicate.

He doesn’t like to be on top because his arms and legs give out easily when it feels really good. He’s so sensitive it makes his body weak and trembly.

If he is ever on top he just lays down on you, grinding his dick into you slow and deep. Drools on your chest.

He says he doesn’t care, but he’s a total boob guy. He could bury his face in your tits and suffocate willingly and with pleasure.

When he cums, it gets all over the place. His brain floats off somewhere during sex and he doesn’t pay attention. Messy guy.

Lowkey has a breeding kink, and whines that he wants to make a baby. Afterwards he’s like “nah it was just heat of the moment….unless you want to 👀

Mommy kink, but he’s embarrassed about it, so he’ll only let it slip if you initiate that one. Calls you ma’am instead and it sounds adorable coming from him.

Big into humiliation, and he will cry when you’re mean to him but he always cums so much harder when you get him like that.

He lives for sexting, he gets really detailed and dirty behind the screen but all shy about it in person when you talk about the things he said.

Send you videos of him jerking off if you want him to, and he wants you to want him to so he’ll try and subtly get you to ask for them.

Total desperate submissive loser honestly, and it’s super cute! 🫶

[bleedingichorhearts]

Cause I am currently are suffering myself, how would the Primarchs (and Big E for shits and giggles) react to the Reader beeing in deep period pains? We talking arching joints, cramps and just pitiful wanting to go sleep for a year or 2.

At least if always make me want to sleep more haha. If you only feel like doing it for one Primarch go for it, choose your favurite that you want to put in this.

Summary - “Primarchs & Emperor react to your rather old enemy: your painful period.”

TW // Mild NSFW. Beta Read (Like Always)

The Emperor; “Revelation:”

This Emperor would be a lil' bastard about it, but not overly so. More like "Meh, you know how to care for yourself." Though, I do have an inkling that he cares in his own way but just... letting you have the day off, snuggle in that bed of his that he never uses, and sends a surf or custodies to check up in on you, and if you're lucky? He himself.

Lion El’Johnson; “The First:”

I think he would be a bit... indifferent about it. He sees you're in pain, yes, but so could another 1,000,000 females of baselines. He smells them everyday. Yet, you are his counterpart now so... special privileges to you, but honestly? It's only a little. Things are earned, not given. Though, if you keep up those eyes and vows? He supposes he can be swayed, but only by you or the Emperor.

Fulgrim; “The Phoenician:”

He's already on it. Hes' got you patterned down and sat down, rolled up in the sheets of his bed. You're having a week or two off, and other surfs can accompany you if you so wish. He was also deliver chocolate, heat pads, water... etc... to you, by himself. If he doesn't it because someone made him busy. So, in turn he will send one of his sons or surf. Would give kisses and cuddles any time you suggest a syllable. Lil' fanatic.

Perturabo; “Lord of Iron:”

You look like you're in pain... He observers but doesn't do much about it. He isn't going to be a servant to your needs. He will however order someone else to attend to you, but at least he's not completely disregarding you. He does like getting cuddles this time of the month and put your head under his chin when you two lay down. Thats the most you're going to get out of him beside him being like a heating pad himself.

Jaghatai Khan; “The Warhawk:”

Has the surfs attend to you, not to disregard you, but they definitely have more information on how to resolve such issues. He will however, attend to you if you would like his company more of that of the surfs. Would also bring you chocolates and snuggles. He knows at least the basics for the needy, woman body. Is rather quick not to leave you unsatisfied really.

Leman Russ; “The Wolf King:”

You’re bleeding? Why are you bleeding? Did he squish you too hard? No? It’s just a woman thing? He knows of it… or at least smelled it before and it definitely gets two heads thinking… One, he must snuggle you and spoil once more. Two? You’ll be perfect to bed afterwards. (Something like feeding your mate before actually mating.😅)

Rogal Dorn; “Praetorian of Terra:”

Is also one of the “meh” ones. He’s not thrilled or very much worried. He knows your strength, and knows how the female baseline body works. Though, again, you’re his lover and he’s not a complete fool to let you suffer the unfortunate. He will order you to stay in his quarters for the time being for… calculated reasons. He shall tend to you afterwards.

Konrad Cruze; “Dark King:”

Staring problem, staring problem. Looks at you as if you’re squirming bug. He lets you be of course, but doesn’t do too much to help. You’ll be a bit lucky if he chooses to snuggle you at night or some questionable foods… not the best at comforting you in these times…

Sanguinius; “The Angel:”

Sweet angel would offer to eat you out when he can. He knows it’s a bit of a… supply and it sedates his hunger. A win for both sides! Would get you some chocolates that you’ve been craving. Wraps you up in his wings, and just snuggles. He must make his food pretty before going all in. :)

Ferrus Manus; “The Gorgon:”

A bit… sweet about it. Tells you to have his quarters and he shall come to you when he gets the time. Once he does? He has a few chocolates to offer. Heck, maybe even some roses. (It’s an image in my head.😭) He’s treating you like it’s Valentine’s Day, not like he knows what that is… Again, he pretty sweet though.

Angron; “The Red Angel:”

Grumpy about it, always; any day. Doesn’t offer you any food, but he’s nod against to putting his hand on you abdomen and thumbing it with a scowl on his face. He enjoys the contact and the smell of you. Will he admit it? No. When sleeping his hands also just go to your abdomen outta instinct. You honestly get the best sleep.

Roboute Guilliman; “The Avenging Son:”

Is another that I think would be like it’s Valentine’s Day. He would bring you the sweets and flowers, maybe hoping for a truce durning these times. Doesn’t want to dare to not give you something during these times, and would let you sit in his lap if you so choose, but please. Allow him to work. (You don’t, and he can’t tell if he loves you more for it.)

Mortarion; “Death Lord:”

This man is a bit tricky for me, hmmm. I feel like he would give you flowers, and they smell incredible. Would snuggle you and take naps with you. I just view this man a bit like a sweet bear. I think he would just keep you close too.

Magnus The Red; “Crimson King:”

Another to let you on his lap while he reads. His hands stroking your back and occasionally going down to act as a heating pad. Would probably have some spell to “curse” you in a friendly way so your blood moon is more manageable. All he wants to do is help and improve! :D

Horus Lupercal; “The Lupercal:”

One of the best to go to for such pains. He would give you the luxury you need: chocolates, the softest and heaviest blankets, all the goodies! This includes himself too! He’s in the package! Would take the chance to bed you every night. So, the pains might disappear quickly, but something else might be gifted to you…

Lorgar Aurelian; “The Urizen:”

Already know. He worships you, and practically obeys your orders. He’s not one to pull the wrath of his wifey. So, he’s a bit of a loser, submissive. He gets you the sweets, the flowers, and becomes your person heating pad. Order him to bed you? He’s not hesitating.

Vulkan; “Lord of Drakes:”

The best heating pad ever, sweetest one too. You’re stating in his quarters, eating the best, fulfilling foods. You even get a safe, personalized lava rock heating pad! Your hubby definitely thinks about you. He’s on his way to get you some ice-creams, and hoping it doesn’t melt on him. He must not have your fury. Not like he minds…

Corvus Corax; “The Raven Lord:”

Another stare, but definitely better. Leaves a lil’ crow with you and tells you to have the day off, and the lil’ crow is honestly doing more for you than your lover. It’s amusing, and you can’t help but steal another crow for yourself. The little guy has been bringing you little trinkets along with some stolen goods. Your still in pain, but it’s more soothed by your little crow buddy. Corvus is a little jealous, but he redeems himself with hesitant cuddles and sweets.

Alpharius & Omegon; “The Last Primarch:”

One is snuggling you and the other is out getting sweets with his sons. They know where your time comes, of course they do. They know you, and the darkest secrets. They always get you your favorites and the things you love. You honestly just get bombed with Alpha Legionnaires as they try and play “who’s who” again, and you’re not having it. Snuggles are free to whoever will submit the quickest.

“@kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.”

“+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @marcela2000, @passionofthesith, @insanity6666, @ilovewolvezz.” - Tagged

[queerteapie]

Please, I Beg (18+)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness/Rio Vidal/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Fic Playlist: Spotify

Summary: Your friend presses questions into your mind you hadn't thought to ask, and without answers of reassurance, you're afraid her concerns may be right.

Tags: 18+, angst, smut, NSFW, femme reader, light mommy kink, strap, light fingering, threesome

Reader Tags: @filmedbyharkness @agatha-rio-enthusiast @unidentable @fadedbee201923 @bigfinsquidd @katiemay-025

Masterlist | Ao3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter Six

The diner isn’t anything special. Red vinyl booths, sticky menus, the thrum of fluorescent lights overhead. Probably wouldn’t have looked twice at it if Agatha hadn’t texted you the night before, casually suggesting it.

"Cute little spot off Sunset," she’d said. "Good pancakes, terrible coffee. You’ll love it."

You hadn’t even thought twice about it then, just smiled at your phone, heart warm, and sent the address to Liv.

But now, sitting alone at a corner booth, nervously tracing the rim of your water glass, it feels a little different. Like you dragged them here with you, even if you didn’t mean to.

Liv arrives a few minutes late, all bright eyes and wind-tousled hair, pulling you into a hug so tight you almost forget the knot in your chest.

"Look at you!" they say, sliding into the booth. "All grown up and mysterious."

You laugh, trying to shake off the nerves. It’s easy, for a while. The two of you fall back into step like no time’s passed at all, ordering the pancakes and the bad coffee, trading half-finished stories about work, about life, about everything and nothing.

But it doesn’t last.

"So," Liv says eventually, propping their chin on their hand. "You seeing anyone?"

You falter, your fork hovering over your plate. The silence stretches half a second too long.

They grin, sharp and triumphant. "Knew it."

You groan, setting your fork down. “It’s...complicated."

"Ooh. Complicated. Spicy. Tell me everything."

You pick at the edge of your napkin, trying to find the right words. How do you explain something that doesn’t have a name yet? Something that feels real but fragile, like a soap bubble in your hands?

"They’re a couple," you say finally. "I babysit for them. And...we’ve gotten close. Really close."

Their eyebrows shoot up. "Like... close close?"

You shrug helplessly. “Yeah. Close close."

There’s a beat of silence.

Then Liv leans back in the booth, exhaling slow. "You’re sleeping with both of them?"

You flinch at the bluntness. “It’s not just-" you start, but stop yourself.

What else can you call it?

You think about Rio’s hands tangled with yours, about Agatha’s mouth on your throat, about the way their house feels like home in a way nothing else has in years.

You think about the way you missed them last night, even when you tried not to.

"It’s more than that," you say quietly.

Liv studies you for a long moment, their expression softening.

"I’m not judging," they say. "Really. I just...you sure they’re not using you?"

You blink.

The words hit harder than you expect. A little off-center punch right to the ribs.

"I mean," they continue carefully, "you’re hot, you're charming, you’re great with their kid," they tick the points off on their fingers. “Of course they’d be into you. But, they’re already a package deal. You’re...sort of…extra."

You open your mouth, ready to argue but the words get stuck. Deep down, you know that fear has been whispering in the back of your mind for a while now.

Not that Agatha and Rio would mean to hurt you. But maybe, it’s inevitable anyway.

Liv must see something on your face, because their own softens even more.

"Just...be careful, okay?" they say, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. "I don’t want to see you get hurt."

You squeeze back, smiling as best you can, but the food tastes like cardboard after that. And even when you leave the diner, stepping out into the bright Los Angeles morning, you can’t shake the weight pressing against your ribs.

You almost pull out your phone to text them, to tell them you miss them, to ask if they’re thinking about you too.

But your thumb hovers over Agatha’s name...and then falls away.

You shove your hands deep into your pockets and start walking, hoping the morning sun can burn off the chill still clinging to your skin.

You don’t say much after breakfast.

Liv hugs you tight before they go, promises to text later, but the warning they left behind clings like burrs to your skin.

You walk away from the diner feeling heavier than you should, each step dragging a little more.

The rest of the day drifts by in a strange haze. You wander the streets downtown, popping into little shops you barely register, sipping coffee that tastes like nothing, scrolling aimlessly through your phone without ever really seeing the screen. The city moves around you, vibrant and alive, but you’re somewhere far away from it all, stuck turning over the same words again and again in your mind.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe you’re just something temporary. A distraction. Something easy to toss aside when the novelty wears off.

The thought curls tight in your chest like smoke.

When Rio’s message pops up around four, it feels like both a balm and a fresh wound.

Rio: Having fun with your friend? Wanna come over later?

You stare at it for a long second, heart clenched painfully tight in your ribs. You almost say no - you almost let that creeping fear win. But you miss them. God, you miss them. You miss the way they see you, the way they fold you into their lives without hesitation, the way it feels to just be with them, uncomplicated and warm and whole.

You don’t want to lose that.

Not without a fight.

You: Would love to. See you soon.

**********

You try to shove the nerves down as you drive over - music blaring too loud, windows cracked to let the cool evening air whip through the car. It almost works. Almost.

But the second you step through the front door, you know you’re not fooling anyone.

The house smells like something sweet baking - maybe cookies, maybe cinnamon - and there’s a lazy kind of chaos humming through it. You hear Nicky’s laughter from the living room, the crinkle of a snack bag being opened, the low murmur of a movie playing on the TV.

Agatha is curled up on the couch, a book forgotten in her lap. Her gaze lifts the second the door clicks shut behind you, pinning you softly in place.

Rio’s sprawled out on the floor, cross-legged among a mess of Legos and coloring books, Nicky perched beside her, chattering away about dinosaurs and rocket ships. She glances up too and you catch the quick flicker of concern that crosses her face before she schools it into an easy smile.

"Hey, sweetheart," Rio says lightly, patting the spot next to her. "C’mere."

You shrug your jacket off slowly, draping it over the hook by the door, and cross the room on stiff legs. You sink down beside her, trying to smile, trying to pretend everything’s normal but your hands twist in your lap, and your shoulders stay tight, and you can feel the worry radiating off both of them in waves.

Rio nudges your knee with hers, playful but careful.

"You okay?"

You nod. Then shake your head. Then laugh weakly, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. It all comes tumbling out before you can stop it.

The breakfast.

The conversation.

The warning about being used.

The way it stuck in your gut all day, growing heavier with every hour that passed.

By the time you’re finished, you feel wrung out - hollow and raw and small.

There’s a long silence, broken only by the faint sound of the movie playing in the background.

Agatha shifts first, sliding off the couch to sit cross-legged on the floor in front of you. She reaches out, tugging your hands gently away from your face and lacing her fingers through yours.

Her thumb brushes across your knuckles in slow, grounding circles.

"We're not using you," she says, voice low and unwavering. "We would never."

Rio leans into your side, wrapping an arm around your waist and squeezing lightly like she’s trying to hold you together.

"We’re still figuring this out," she says, her voice softer now, earnest. "It’s new for us too. But if it keeps moving forward - if it becomes something more serious - it’s not gonna be you orbiting around us. You’d be in it. With us. Equal."

Agatha’s eyes don’t leave yours, fierce and open.

"You’re not extra," she says simply. "You’re...you. That matters."

Your throat feels tight. Your chest aches in a way that’s half pain, half overwhelming relief.

You believe them. Or maybe you just want to believe them so badly it hurts.

And maybe, for tonight, that’s enough.

You don’t realize you’re crying until Rio brushes a thumb under your eye, catching the tear before it falls.

"Hey," she says, grinning, trying to lighten the moment. "C’mon. We didn’t break out the emergency cookies for nothing."

You let out a shaky laugh, scrubbing your hands over your face.

Agatha bumps her shoulder against yours.

"So," she says, mischievous again, that wicked spark rekindling in her eyes. "New plan."

You blink at her, still a little dazed.

"Invite your friend over tomorrow," she says. "Board games. Pizza. Whatever. Let them see for themselves."

Rio perks up immediately, sitting back on her heels.

"Charm offensive," she says brightly. "We’re very good at those."

You laugh - really laugh this time, the tension finally cracking apart inside you.

"You’re insane," you say fondly, pulling your phone out of your pocket.

Agatha leans in over your shoulder, her hair brushing your cheek.

Rio practically drapes herself across your back, reading along as you type.

“Hey, wanna come over tomorrow? Agatha and Rio wanna meet you. They’re cool. Also devastatingly attractive and annoyingly funny. You’ll like them.”

You hover over the send button.

Agatha taps the screen lightly with one finger.

"Send it," she says, smirking. "Before we lose the advantage."

You hit send with a theatrical sigh, dropping your phone onto the couch cushion beside you.

Rio cheers softly and throws her arms around your neck, dragging you back into her lap like you weigh nothing.

"See? Crisis averted. Genius plan. We're gonna win your friend over so hard, they’ll be begging for sleepovers."

Agatha chuckles, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Or at least they’ll stop filling your head with garbage," she says, eyes soft.

You let yourself sink into them, into the messy pile of limbs and warmth and ridiculousness. The house buzzes quietly around you, Nicky’s movie still playing, the faint clatter of the oven timer going off, the lazy golden light of the setting sun sliding across the floor.

For the first time all day, you don’t feel hollow anymore.

You feel...safe.

Held.

Home. 

***********

Later, when Nicky’s finally down for the night - after three bedtime stories, two drinks of water, and one last insistence that he absolutely needed to show you his latest Lego masterpiece - you all collapse on the couch like marionettes with their strings cut.

The house is blissfully quiet now, except for the soft murmur of the TV playing a documentary about ancient shipwrecks.

You’re squished comfortably between Agatha and Rio, a knitted blanket thrown over all three of you, mugs of hot chocolate cradled carefully in your hands.

A pile of half-eaten snacks balances precariously on the coffee table - popcorn, cookies, some gummy bears Rio keeps sneakily tossing at your head when Agatha isn’t looking.

You feel good.

Tethered.

Your phone buzzes quietly on the cushion beside you.

You fish it out lazily, thumb sliding across the screen.

Liv: Sounds fun. See you guys tomorrow. Bring your A-game, I don't lose at board games.

You stare at the message for a second longer than you probably should.

It’s fine. It’s friendly.

But there’s something off about it. Something you can’t quite name. A lack of the usual exclamation points, maybe. Or the warmth you’re used to. The pit in your stomach stirs, unwelcome. You tuck your phone away quickly like you can hide the creeping anxiety along with it.

Without thinking, you shift closer into Agatha’s side, pressing your face into her shoulder.

She doesn’t miss a beat.

Her free arm comes up immediately, tucking you closer against her.

She kisses the top of your head, slow and deliberate, her lips lingering.

"You’re thinking too hard again," she murmurs against your hair.

Rio leans forward to catch your gaze over the rim of her mug, smiling crookedly.

"You okay, baby?"

You nod. Then shake your head. Then shrug helplessly.

"It’s stupid," you mumble. "Liv just texted back. She’s coming tomorrow, but...I don’t know. She didn’t sound like herself. It’s probably nothing, but-"

Agatha cups your jaw gently, tilting your face up so you have to meet her eyes.

"It’s not nothing if it’s making you feel like this," she says.

Her voice is warm. Steady.

A tether against the flood rising in your chest.

"We’re not playing games with you," she says, thumbing softly over your cheekbone. "This isn’t a trick. It’s not some experiment, or whatever else you’re scared it might be."

Rio nudges your foot under the blanket with hers.

"The only game we’re playing," she says, grinning wide, "is absolutely destroying you at Scrabble tomorrow."

You snort before you can stop yourself.

"Wow," you say, voice wobbly with half-laughter. "You’re really talking a big game for someone who tried to play 'quazle' like it was a real word last time we played Scrabble."

Rio gasps, clutching her chest like you've mortally wounded her. “Quazle is absolutely a word in some language," she protests. "I stand by it."

"Baby," Agatha says, gently exasperated from across the room, "you tried to argue it was Australian slang for ‘a soft breeze.’"

Rio shrugs, shameless. "It sounded real. It had a Z. That’s power."

You laugh again - really laugh - and the ache in your chest finally starts to loosen.

Rio’s head whips around from where she's been poking through the snack pile.

"Oh, you laughing at me, huh?" she says, mock-offended, eyes narrowing playfully.

Before you can react, she lunges at you, tackling you sideways into the couch cushions.

You yelp, laughing helplessly as she tries to pin you down, her fingers digging in mercilessly at your sides. Agatha laughs too, a low, warm sound from where she’s curled in the corner of the couch, legs tucked underneath her.

"Get her, darling," Agatha calls out, amusement thick in her voice.

"Traitor," you gasp at her, still squirming under Rio’s relentless tickling, but Agatha just laughs harder.

The three of you dissolve into a ridiculous, tangled mess, all laughter and grabbing hands and useless protests.

At some point, you manage to wriggle yourself on top of Rio, pinning her hips with your knees, breathless and triumphant.

"Ha! Got you," you declare proudly, chest heaving.

Rio grins up at you, smug and unbothered. "Oh no," she says, voice dripping with fake fear. "Whatever will I do."

Something bold sparks in your chest - maybe from the victory, maybe from the heat in her gaze - and before you can second guess it, you lean down and kiss her.

Quick and sweet and yours.

Rio kisses you back immediately, easy and eager but the second you pull back, it hits you.

You kissed her.

You kissed her first.

Your face flames so fast you feel dizzy, a soft little gasp escaping before you can swallow it down.

Agatha sees it happen - the way you freeze, the way wide-eyed panic flashes across your face - and her smile curls slow and wicked.

"Aww," she coos, leaning forward, her hand stroking warmly down your back. “Is my little one getting shy now? After being so brave?"

You try to bury your face against Rio’s shoulder, but Rio just laughs and tugs you closer, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist.

"Don't go getting shy on us now," she murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You let out a breathless little laugh, trying to play it off, but it’s no use. You can feel the colour rising in your cheeks.

Agatha just smiles - hungry and sweet at once - and crooks a finger at Rio. “Come here, darling.”

Rio turns her head, grinning as Agatha leans in and kisses her, slow and sure, all practiced affection and heat. And then Agatha shifts, moving toward you.

She doesn’t kiss you right away. Just leans in, her lips brushing yours, barely there.

"Good thing I really, really love sharing with you."

You let out the tiniest whimper, your whole body melting into their hands, their mouths.

Agatha smiles against your mouth lazily. 

"You know," Rio says, voice dropping low as she nuzzles just beneath your jaw, "the night’s still young..."

"And we," Agatha purrs, fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt, "have a lot of ways we could wear you out."

The only thing you can focus on is the warmth of their hands, their mouths, the heavy, aching promise of everything still to come.

“Should we take this to bed?” Agatha murmurs against your lips, already sitting up. Her hoodie rides up her thighs when she stands, revealing smooth legs and the soft sway of her hips as she leads the way upstairs.

You follow, heart pounding, hand clasped in Rio’s. There’s something reverent in the quiet steps you take down the hallway

The bedroom is dim, lit only by the spill of hallway light and the soft glimmer of the city beyond the window.

Agatha pulls back the duvet while Rio comes up behind you, hands curling around your waist.

“Still nervous?” Rio whispers, kissing the nape of your neck.

“Always, with you two,” you admit, barely breathing the words.

Agatha turns, her voice lower now. “You were so brave making the first move tonight.”

She steps close again, hands gentle as they slide beneath the hem of your shirt, lifting it slowly over your head. She kisses each inch of exposed skin like she’s thanking you for it.

Rio presses in from behind, her hands warm on your hips. Her lips move along the curve of your jaw, trailing heat in their wake.

You’re dizzy in the best way, caught between them, wrapped in touch and warmth and a steady pulse of affection.

Agatha’s voice is barely audible. “Do you trust us?”

You nod. “Yes.”

And you mean it.

She smiles, guiding you gently to the bed. The mattress feels soft beneath you as they continue to undress you slowly, reverently - like it’s part ritual, part worship.

And when Agatha opens the drawer beside the bed, fingers brushing over a few velvet-covered toys and harnesses, she looks to you again.

“Still okay?”

Your pulse thrums, but you nod again. “Yes. Please.”

Agatha stops, her voice firm but kind. “I need you to use your words, little one.”

“Y-yes, still okay,” you manage, your voice unsteady.

They don’t rush. Every touch is slow, teasing, designed to draw out the anticipation, not just the pleasure. Agatha kneels between your legs while Rio holds you from behind, her mouth at your ear, whispering praise and soft encouragement.

And you feel it - not just arousal but this sense of being cherished. Of being chosen.

They’re not just using you.

They’re loving you. In every slow, deliberate way they know how.

And as Agatha kneels back for a moment, she reaches for the harness. You watch her fit the straps around her hips with practiced ease, her eyes flicking up to meet yours now and then - not asking, just making sure you’re still with her. Still saying yes.

When she finishes, she crawls back up the bed, her fingers gentle as they caress your face, thumb sweeping across your cheek.

“You sure you want this, my love?” she asks, voice low and syrupy sweet.

“Please,” you breathe, barely above a whisper. “I beg.”

Agatha’s eyes darken at your words, the corners of her mouth curling into something equal parts tender and hungry. “Good,” she murmurs, brushing her thumb along your bottom lip. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

You hear the soft creak of the harness as she adjusts it, the toy swaying slightly between her thighs - thick, smooth, and glistening faintly where she’s already slicked it with lube. She strokes along the length once, slow and purposeful, while Rio presses a kiss to your shoulder from behind, her hands now framing your waist.

“You’ve been so good for us,” Agatha says, crawling up over your thighs, the strap brushing along your skin, teasing. “So patient. I think our little one deserves a reward.”

“Don’t you?” Rio’s voice is a low purr at your ear.

You nod, heart pounding. “Please, I want this.”

Agatha shifts closer and presses the tip of the toy against you, teasing. Not pushing in yet, just circling, spreading you where it counts. Then her fingers return, parting you, easing the small vibrator between your folds, switching it on low. Your hips jolt at the buzz, a gasp slipping from your lips as the tremor settles against your clit.

“Sweet thing,” Agatha whispers. “You’re already shaking.”

She presses in slow, inch by aching inch, her other hand gripping your hip to keep you steady.

Rio wraps her arm around your torso, mouth at your ear. “Let her in, baby,” she breathes. “Let Mommy fuck you real good.”

You moan - high, broken, involuntary. Agatha smiles as she bottoms out, filling you completely, then stills. She leans forward to kiss you, slow and deep, her hips pressing against yours, keeping you full.

“Now let’s make you feel everything,” she says, voice thick.

Agatha sets a rhythm that’s slow and deliberate, each roll of her hips measured, coaxing your body to open for her. A vibrator now hums between you, sending shivers up your spine with every grind of her pelvis against yours. Her hand pins your hips with gentle strength, keeping you exactly where she wants you.

You clutch at Rio’s arms behind you, trembling, breath catching with each thrust. She tightens her hold, lips ghosting your ear. “You’re taking her so well,” she murmurs. “You’re so beautiful when you’re being fucked like this.”

Agatha leans in close, mouth at your throat, her voice a low purr. “That’s it, sweetheart. You don’t have to do anything. Just feel.”

It’s overwhelming, in the best way. The pressure, the vibration, their voices, it melts you down to nerves and heat. You whimper, fingers tugging at the sheets, and Rio kisses the side of your face with a soft chuckle.

“Think you can take more, little one?” Agatha asks, slowing just enough to let your hips grind up toward her. “Or do I need to hold you down?”

“More,” you pant. “Please.”

Agatha pulls out nearly all the way before sliding back in harder this time - deeper, grinding with purpose. You cry out, your back arching into her.

“Good girl,” she praises, thumb brushing your cheek, eyes locked to yours. “You’re making Mommy so proud.”

From behind, Rio’s hand drifts down your front, fingers moving toward the vibrator. She tweaks the setting slightly, just enough to kick it up a notch, and your whole body tenses.

“That’s it,” she whispers. “Give in. Let us take care of you.”

Your body jolts as the aftershocks ripple through you, every nerve still alight. Agatha slows only slightly, still rolling her hips in smooth, steady thrusts, drawing your climax out until it feels almost unbearable.

Agatha leans over you, planting a trail of kisses down your jaw, her voice thick with praise. “You’re perfect like this. So open. So full. I could watch you fall apart forever.”

Her words make you clench around the toy, and she groans softly, giving one more slow thrust before she stills inside you.

“Let’s give our girl a little break,” she murmurs, easing out with care and slipping the harness off her hips. “Don’t want to overstimulate you…too much.”

But there’s a gleam in her eye when she says it, one that tells you she knows exactly how far she could push you.

Rio sits back on her heels before removing her shirt, revealing the warm slope of her stomach and the curve of her bare thighs. She licks her lips, eyes flicking to Agatha. “Your turn?”

Agatha hums, brushing sweat-damp curls from her brow. “I thought you’d never ask.”

She lifts the toy from where it still hums faintly, lowering the setting before passing it to you.

“You wanna hold this for me, baby?” she asks, eyes gleaming.

You nod, still trembling, still high on the haze of their touch. Agatha shifts to lie back across the bed, legs spread with slow confidence, gaze steady on yours.

"Come here," she says, voice rough. “I want to see those pretty eyes while you fuck me.” You crawl forward on trembling limbs, still feeling the echo of her deep inside you. But the way Agatha looks at you - darkened eyes lazy with hunger, legs already parting wider - grounds you in a different kind of heat.

You kneel between her thighs, vibrator in hand, and feel Rio settle behind you, her chest warm against your back, her breath ghosting against your ear.

"Nice and slow, my love," she murmurs. "She's sensitive. But so greedy, too."

You nod, pressing the vibrator gently to Agatha’s inner thigh, just to tease. Her hips twitch, the muscle jumping under the toy’s hum.

“Oh, she’s already squirming,” Rio coos, reaching around to guide your hand higher - until the head of the vibrator presses snug to Agatha’s clit.

Agatha lets out a low groan, her thighs twitching again. “Fuck…”

You slowly slide your fingers into her, already slick with the promise of what’s to come. A subtle curve of your hand has Agatha gasping, her breath catching in surprise. 

"That's it," you murmur, finding a rhythm, watching the tension build in her body, each breath shorter, her stomach flexing, her hands gripping the sheets.

Rio doesn’t just watch - she wraps her arms around your middle, hands cupping your chest lazily, possessively. She rocks against you while you work the toy in slow, precise circles, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Look at her,” she whispers. “Look how beautiful she gets when she falls apart.”

Agatha’s back arches as she lets out a ragged moan, one hand reaching for you, the other fisting the sheets.

"Fuck yes," she gasps, her voice cracking with need. "More."

You oblige, pressing the toy firmer against her clit. Her thighs shake, her eyes fluttering closed as her body fights the edge.

Rio's hand slides between your legs, just to stroke - lazy and indulgent. Not to push, not yet. Just to remind you that you're still wanted. That this isn’t over.

“Let’s make her come,” she breathes. “And then you’ll get to taste it, won’t you?”

Agatha groans your name, the kind of sound that sticks in your spine.

"Don't stop," she pleads, teetering.

"You're so close," you murmur, the words instinctual now. "Come for me, mommy."

Her body seizes, thighs clamping around your hand, and then she’s crying out - high and broken and wrecked as she comes, shaking beneath you, hips jerking and grinding into the toy like she never wants it to end.

And Rio, behind you, moans low like the sight alone is enough to get her off.

“You want to taste the mess you made, sweet girl?” She purrs. 

You give a small nod in response - eager and wanting. 

Rio eases back from you, the heat of her touch still tingling across your skin. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she crawls over to Agatha, straddling her with practiced ease. She throws you a teasing wink just before lowering herself onto Agatha’s waiting mouth.

Your cheeks flush as Rio begins to grind against Agatha’s face with slow, deliberate rhythm - her moans spilling out low and unfiltered, filling the room with the sound of control and pleasure claimed.

Agatha’s hands grip tight around Rio’s thighs, holding her steady as Rio rolls her hips in slow, deliberate circles against her mouth. The soft, wet sounds fill the room, matched by Rio’s breathy moans - sharp and satisfied.

From her perch, Rio looks down at you with a sly, commanding smile. “Don’t just watch,” she says, voice thick with arousal. “Get down there. Make yourself useful.”

You obey without hesitation, crawling in close, the heat between Agatha’s thighs drawing you in like gravity. Her slickness coats her folds, a decadent blend of her own arousal and the aftermath of Rio grinding above her. You press your mouth to her, tasting her slowly at first - exploring, savoring.

Rio watches you from above, a hand in your hair as you work. “There you go,” she murmurs, rocking against Agatha’s face with a shudder. “She’s all yours, baby. Take what you want.”

Agatha moans into her, the vibration making Rio gasp, and you feel it reverberate against your tongue. She arches again but now beneath both of you, trapped in the shared rhythm you’ve built - her thighs tensing, her grip tightening.

The scene is layered, intense - Rio commanding from above, Agatha writhing between you both, and you lost in the taste and heat of her. It’s messy, intoxicating, and entirely yours.

Rio’s moans rise, a delicious tremble in her thighs as she slows her grinding. “Fuck,” she breathes, hips giving one last roll before she gently lifts herself off Agatha, thighs glistening. She looks down at you with a dark smile, dragging her fingers through your hair before slipping away and settling on the bed beside you, her back hitting the sheets with a satisfied sigh.

You barely have a moment to breathe before Agatha is behind you, her presence wrapping around you like silk and steel. She brushes your hair aside, lips grazing the shell of your ear.

“Think it’s your turn now, sweetheart,” she murmurs, voice dark and indulgent.

Your breath catches as she guides you up on your knees, fingers slipping around your waist with possessive ease. From the drawer beside the bed, she pulls out another harness - leather and gleaming chrome - and you feel your pulse quicken.

“Hold still,” she says, and her tone brooks no argument.

You obey, heart thudding as she fastens the straps around your hips, her hands firm and practiced. Each buckle snaps into place with deliberate clicks, her knuckles grazing your bare skin as she adjusts the fit - tight, secure, perfect.

“There,” she hums, stepping back to admire you, her hand trailing possessively down your spine. “God, look at you. So fucking delicious.”

You glance toward Rio, who lies back now with her legs parted, one hand idly teasing along the inside of her thigh as she watches you with a wicked grin.

Agatha steps closer again, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, then your jaw. “Now be a good girl,” she purrs, her voice low against your skin. “Ruin my wife for me.”

You move between Rio’s legs, the weight of the harness holding you in the moment, in the desire written all over her flushed face. She watches you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted, chest rising with every anticipatory breath.

Agatha climbs onto the bed and slides in next to her wife, their lips meeting in a kiss that’s slow, sensual, and so deeply familiar it makes your stomach flutter. You watch as Agatha’s hand finds its way between Rio’s thighs, fingers sliding through the slick you can already see glistening there.

Rio’s breath catches, hips twitching toward the contact. But she doesn’t look at Agatha - she’s watching you.

“Go on,” Agatha murmurs against Rio’s lips. “She’s ready for you.”

You move forward, guiding yourself into place, the pressure of the harness a steady reminder of what you’re about to give her. Rio moans softly as you push in, Agatha’s hand never leaving her, instead circling and stroking gently as you start to move.

The room fills with the sound of shared breath, whispered praises, and wet, rhythmic movement. Rio's head tips back, her mouth parting in a gasp, and Agatha kisses her throat, her cheek, her temple.

“That’s it,” Agatha whispers, watching her wife unravel beneath both your hands. “Look at you, taking our sweet girl so well.”

Rio’s moans deepen, her body arching between you and Agatha, caught in the pull of both your touches. Every thrust from you earns a new sound from her lips, each one more desperate, more pleading. Agatha’s fingers don’t falter - stroking her with practiced, deliberate pressure - her eyes dark and focused as she watches the way Rio falls apart beneath you.

“Such a good girl,” Agatha purrs lowly, her words just loud enough for you to hear. “Look at how desperate she is for you.”

Rio’s hand suddenly reaches for you, fingers curling around the back of your neck as she pulls you down, her lips catching yours in a messy, breathless kiss. She’s gasping into your mouth, her moans swallowed between kisses as her thighs tremble around your hips. The heat of her is all-consuming - her mouth, her body, the way she holds you like she can’t get you close enough.

“Don’t stop,” she whispers into your mouth. “Please…don’t you dare stop.”

Agatha kisses the edge of Rio’s jaw before whispering, “Let her ruin you, baby. You look so beautiful like this.”

And you do - you move harder, deeper, spurred on by the way Rio’s whole body tightens beneath you, by the way her nails press into your skin, by the low sounds spilling from Agatha’s throat as she watches her crumble. Between the three of you, there’s no space left untouched, no silence unfilled. Only sweat, breath, and the building pleasure curling hot and inevitable in the air.

Rio’s kisses turn frantic, uneven, her mouth parting around a moan as your pace holds steady - deep, unrelenting, coaxed by every trembling gasp and needy plea she offers up to you. Her head falls back against the pillows, breaking the kiss, exposing the arch of her throat as her nails dig into your hips.

Agatha’s voice comes again, soft and knowing. “That’s it, baby. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

Rio can’t answer, she only nods, eyes fluttering shut, hips jerking against yours with growing desperation. Agatha’s fingers move faster, her other hand tangled in Rio’s hair, holding her close as she whispers filth and praise in her ear.

You lean in, your body flush against hers, and watch - truly watch - the way Rio begins to fall apart. Her breath catches, her thighs start to shake, and she cries out, loud and raw, as her climax hits like a wave crashing into her.

She grips you tighter, legs clenching, her body trembling beneath you. Agatha kisses her through it, coaxing her through every second of it, and you hold her - strong and steady - until she finally stills, gasping, glowing, utterly undone.

Between you both, she melts into the mattress, completely wrecked. Agatha brushes her hair back, murmuring something sweet into her ear before looking up at you with a smirk.

“God, look what you did to her.”

Rio lets out a breathless laugh, eyes fluttering open. “You ruined me,” she whispers hoarsely, pulling you down to kiss her again - slow and grateful this time, her body warm and pliant beneath yours.

The room is quiet now, the air still humming with heat and intimacy, but softer somehow, like a song easing into its final note.

Your breathing is slowing, though your body still trembles faintly from the aftershocks, warmth radiating between you and them. You're cocooned in the tangle of limbs and blankets, but it's their voices that anchor you.

“You with us, sweetheart?” Agatha asks softly, voice warm and steady.

You nod, and she brushes your damp hair back from your face, her thumb grazing the edge of your brow. “That’s my good girl,” she murmurs. “You did so well.”

You manage a soft sound in return - not quite words, but enough. Rio slips out of bed for a moment and returns shortly with a warm, damp cloth and a bottle of water. She takes care of you without a word, gentle and attentive, her eyes never leaving yours as she wipes you down, soothing your skin.

“You didn’t just let go,” she says with a small smile. “You flew.”

You laugh, breath catching in your chest, still raw around the edges, but so full of affection you can hardly hold it all. You reach for her hand and she squeezes it in return, sliding back into the bed beside you.

Agatha pulls the blanket up over all three of you, her arm wrapping around your waist to tug you close. Rio curls around your other side, a leg sliding between yours, anchoring you.

There’s no rush. No need to move or speak. Just the soft thrum of shared breath and the cool weight of the sheets wrapping around your sticky skin. Every inch of you feels like it belongs here - caught between their bodies, their warmth, their steady presence.

Agatha kisses your shoulder, slow and lingering. “You were perfect, baby.”

Rio hums into your hair. “We’re going to need a whole day to recover.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk,” you murmur, earning a lazy laugh from both of them.

“Worth it,” Agatha says, voice thick with pride.

The room fades into a gentle hush, broken only by quiet touches and the rhythmic beating of hearts pressed close together. Someone strokes your back - you think it's Agatha - and someone else rubs slow circles along your thigh. You feel completely undone, yet more whole than you’ve ever been.

Rio murmurs, “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

“Not if I can help it,” you reply, honest and soft.

Agatha kisses your neck. “Good. We’d just have to come drag you back.”

The three of you settle together, the room cooling slowly around your bodies, breath syncing up, warmth tucked between you like a shared secret.

And finally, eyes heavy, heart full, you let sleep take you - nestled between two women who’ve undone you in every possible way, only to put you back together more completely than you’ve ever known.

[alexanderlightweight]

For writing Wednesday:

I know you only just posted the first part an hour ago, but maybe malec meeting and bonding in your new sentinel/guide au? Or magnus reacting to alec's childhood in the new sentinel/guide au. I really liked the first part and I'm weirdly fond of sentinel/guide AUs.

If you don't want to write any more sentinel/guide stuff, maybe something about how Alec growing up in the New York Institute made him weirdly connected to the wards or angelic core.

Your writing is a major highlight of my week! Please make sure to get some proper rest and dring lots of water!

Either nsfw or sfw is good

no you're good! I ended up having a flareup last night that hit pretty bad. I took my meds and got through it but I couldn't think straight so I'm finishing now, today lol there's a piece that goes before this here because you are not the only one who asked for more! and I love sentinel/guide au's so like, I definitely get being weirdly fond since i'm extremely weirdly into the trope.

thank you! I am definitely working to hydrate and drink water not just tea today! I hope you hydrate as well and have a good day and everyone who reads this! drink and rest <3

i hope you enjoy <3 lumine

currency of fate

Magnus frowns at the way his magic is tugging frantically at his levels, trying to beg for more magic yet he refuses. Recognizing exactly which one of his many wards are currently running out and unwilling to assign more of his magic to shadowhunters.

Fifteen minutes later, Magnus catches a fire message out of the air and when he goes to ignore it, Cahya’s growl deters him.

There’s a moment where Magnus meets eyes the same blue as his magic and then he rereads the message carefully. 

“You want us to go there, despite insisting we ignore everything to do with the Institute for almost two decades?”

Cahya growls, a stubborn note to the rumble.

“Then off we shall go.” Magnus steps into his closet to change and instead, his clothes are magically swapped. Cahya is unrepentant as they impatiently nudge Magnus and well, they have impeccable taste and are unwilling to wait.

Magnus’ outfit is dark, elegant and deadly.  It’s a statement piece of power and wealth and Magnus wears it with ease as he summons a portal and appears just outside the Institute doors. It’s with a sigh that he straightens his back and lets a smirk grow across his mouth.

The doors don’t open until Magnus flares his magic but there’s no one on the other side, in fact it isn’t until he’s already down the corridor that he hears voices at all. 

“Sentinel Bane!” There’s a call of recognition as a shadowhunter with dark, shoulder length twists greets him.  He’s clearly worried even as he nods to Magnus, politely refraining from offering his hand. 

“There’s a problem with the power levels of the wards, correct?” Magnus doesn’t want to waste time, he wants to get to the bottom of the issue so he can hunt down whatever is causing the restlessness in his soul to wake up.

“No, the wards are a problem but the real problem is Alec and his guide abilities and how the wards are isolating him.”

“What?” Magnus needs to be certain he heard that correctly. 

“Alec Lightwood, the Head and Commander, he’s a guide. We can’t get anyone close to him and the wards are shutting down in a pattern that’s locking us in our Institute but away from him. Medical can’t reach him and everyone who got past the wards before lockdown started are already unconscious from Alec’s abilities.”

That doesn’t make any sense.

None of it.

Magnus would have known if there was a nephilim guide on his territory, he couldn’t have been hidden under Magnus’ own wards. There is no reason for his own magic to betray him so intimately. There’s a slim chance the guide recently came online, or is visiting from Idris, but Magnus still should have been able to feel or at least notice them.

“Why wasn’t his pride called?”

“He doesn’t have one. I can’t tell you why, it’s classified and I don’t personally know.” The implication is he’d tell Magnus if he did know is not unappreciated.  “They said restraining and healing magic are our best hope and as local Archon, you shouldn’t be overwhelmed.”

“Overwhelmed?”

“He’s powerful and the sentinel who caused this had been decently powerful. The Clave sent him through from Idris but he was sent back catatonic before the wards started to rampage.”

Cahya growls and flicks their round ears before knocking a large paw into Magnus’ calf followed by a hurried snap of their teeth in the air. Impatience suddenly sharp as the frost beading on their silver fur.

“Oh.”

There would be a reason, and not one that could be considered a betrayal. In fact it explains why Magnus magic is so desperately trying to sequester the guide, to hide him away from intruders or other sentinels.

Sentinel’s who aren’t Magnus if what Magnus thinks is right.

Magnus portals through the shuddering and quickly closing wards.  

They are locking in on themselves, just as the nephilim at the entry said. The fragmented magic was running out of power and it latched on the angelic core like a leech. Layering shields around the shadowhunter guide, his surroundings and finally the very Institute.

—

Alec tries to forget the rage trembling through his body, tries to clear his mind and ignore the fact that the Clave is pushing their agenda on him. There’s a strange noise that the wards don’t react to and a presence Alec doesn’t recognize is suddenly in the same space as him.

Alec’s mind reacts first and yet instead of a foreign intrusion, he’s met with nothing but familiar comfort and his mind unravels, reaching out to pool against the stronger power. It’s slightly different from what already guards his mind, but it’s too familiar for Alec to be thwarted.

It’s exactly what he needs after the slick, disgusting feeling of someone else's mind trying to influence his own from earlier.

“Oh darling, do you even know what you’re asking for?”

The voice is rich and makes Alec feel like he can do or ask for anything. It also doesn’t matter if he doesn’t know the words for what he wants, when he knows instinctively it’s what he needs.

“I’ll settle you enough to get you out of here. Then I’ll bond you properly.” 

—-

Magnus' mind luxuriates in the feel of rich, raw energy nestling against him and his senses instantly calm. Layers upon layers of Alec... Alexander's mind wraps around him in protective defense. The restlessness is purged, instead being replaced by urgency.

Magnus frowns as his guide growls, clearly displeased by the suggestion and the fact that Magnus isn’t yet touching him.  However, the last thing Magnus wants to do is bond to his guide in an unfamiliar and dangerous location, no matter that his magic is wreathed about the Institute.

The euphoria of being right, of having his guide here and now and already begging to be his — as if he hasn’t always been. Considering that Magnus can already feel the reciprocal energy of shields on his boy’s mind and doubts Alexander’s ever been anything but his.

Magnus knows that with his own tendency to go feral and the way Alexander’s rage coils like veins of lava bubbling beneath the surface that he should go for the kind of bond that will stabilize them. However Magnus has always been accused of being ‘too much’ and perhaps, he wants to prove people right.

In his own special way, of course.

After all, it’s a gift from Magnus, a choice that he’s making, to ensure someone else is correct for once.

So as much as Magnus wants to fuck Alexander through the Institute’s floor and sear their bond into existence and would be happy to do so. He also doesn’t want to share a single moment of their bonding euphoria with any shadowhunter beyond the one that’s his.

“I’m going to leave a note and then I’ll take you somewhere we can bond.”

Alexander grumbles at the delay, his familiar echoing displeasure and then a sharp-toothed maw and soft muzzle nudge Magnus’ fingers as if in acceptance.

Which is sweet, because no how much Magnus wants to sink his senses into Alexander here and now, he can’t with the knowledge and sense input of all the enemies around him.

AN:

typically sentinel/guides kind of project emotions when bonding etc and Magnus doesn't want to share that sensation. he could share it with his own pride as like a morale boost but he might not ever share that.

Alec is dissociating right now because after another year of ignoring attempts, the Clave sent one of the sentinels who work more directly under their influence to uh... seduce him. It didn't work and Alec's mad and the wards had a panic because they don't want to risk losing Alec for Magnus' sake and Alec's safety.

i'll get more into descriptions later, Cahya is ice natured as a representation of Magnus' future guide and Jayr is fire natured for the same reason

[theseinfernalangels]

ok what are the FW boys pet names for their SO??

I’m glad you asked, because I think about this all the time. Keep thé asks coming! <3

Dain: It wasn’t for a while that he started calling you Dove, and it really wasn’t even on purpose. In fact, it was actually because you mentioned that you love how mourning doves sing in the morning, and then Dain mentioned that in a conversation — and, with how closely you stick to Dain, Second Squad dubbed you “Dain’s Dove.” He doesn’t mind, though — it’s cute.

Bodhi: I’m on team Bodhi Uses Tyrrish Names Religiously. He calls you basically everything under the sun. In passing, you’re a thaisce, which loosely translates to “my treasure/darling,” for obvious reasons. In private, though, when you’re having a deep, deep moment, you’re mo shíorghrá, his eternal love. The way his words flow, musically with a pretty accent, makes a pleasant tingle go up your spine — especially when he whispers it into your skin.

Ridoc: No doubt about it, you’re his sweetheart. It kind of started out as a sort of taunt on the sparring mat (“You really think you can keep me down that easily, sweetheart?”), but after some time, it actually became genuine. You didn’t realize that, though, until he shortened it to sweets in the middle of a casual conversation. It was either that or that little twinkle in his eyes that let you know how he really felt.

Aaric: If you think it’s anything concerning royalty, I hate to burst your bubble — he doesn’t want any of that life being forced onto you. I think you’re simply his love. Nothing flashy or extravagant. He finds beauty in the simplicity of it, your love. It’s second-hand nature at this point, how easily it slips out. It basically replaces your name, and it catches everyone off-guard the first time they actually register it.

Sawyer: Well! I’d put literally anything here and would eat it up, but I have two in mind. Generally speaking, you’re usually Darling or Sweet Girl. He started calling you Sweet Girl accidentally, when he was half-asleep and was feeling particularly soft. However, one thing that a lot of people don’t know is that he actually speaks pretty good Lucerish (he just doesn’t talk about it). So, late at night, when you’re nodding off on top of him, he whispers, “kardia” — heart.

Liam: Easy; you’re his girl, or just Baby in private. Liam is not a possessive guy by any means; he respects your autonomy and skills. However, that doesn’t mean he’s not protective. You’re his girl, and if someone tries fucking with you, you know that he knows about it without even telling him. The first time it came out was during a small fit of unusual jealousy, when he curled a hand around your waist, peered over your shoulder, and asked, “How do you know my girl?”

Brennan: This is more in the context of Sabine, I think, but he calls you his angel. You’re his saving grace — the thing that motivates him to get up in the morning and keep fighting. You’re always there next to him, fighting at his back, defending himself as he defends you. You couldn’t be more perfect to him if you tried, and for everything you’ve done and will do for him, he’s willing to get on his knees.

Garrick: He calls you lovely, because — well, he just thinks you’re lovely. You’re the light in a midnight storm, a lily in the midst of devastation. Not a lot of good has come out of Garrick’s life, and for someone as good as you to see something in him that you might love — he thinks it’s quite the blessing. Unless you’re Cosette, of course. Then, you’re his princess <3

[callsign-rogueone]

fell down a rabbit hole of wedding content on Instagram and now I’m thinking about the girlfriends getting married and who’s walking them down the aisle.

duchess: her dad. this was also the first time they’d seen each other in nearly a year, as she was in hiding in aretia / supposed to be dead. that made things that much more emotional <3

angel: I want to say xaden, though he’s also supposed to be up there as the best man. oh well. he can walk her down and then go to garrick’s side. I also see her having a teeny wedding party. Xaden is the one groomsman, and sweets is the only bridesmaid.

darling: xaden again. he’s technically her only older male relative, anyway. (and yes, bodhi and darling are getting a real wedding at some point! once all that venin and wyvern stuff is handled.) or possibly her younger brother, though he really just exists for sake of her character development lol

love: I know xaden is her older brother, but I think she has a deeper connection with brennan, as they’re both tacticians and nerds. and brennan is also her daughter’s godfather and an important person for dain (he absolutely idolized brennan growing up, and you cannot convince me otherwise.)

sweetheart: garrick. there is simply no other option. similarly to angel, I also see her having a small wedding party. peach is absolutely one of her bridesmaids, and angel the maid of honor.

peach: her dad, the only other dad who is still with us lol. gonna be honest though, this is the first time I’ve thought about him and what he’s like. either way, sawyer 1000% has his approval, and has had it for a full decade — their parents are the original sawyerpeach shippers.

sunny: no one. both because it’s kinda like the dad “transferring ownership” to the husband and that’s definitely not her vibe, but also because there just isn’t anyone who she’d want to do it. she likes the rest of our boys fine, but she doesn’t have a deep relationship with any of them. and this is just the first of the many, many disruptions to tradition / expectations that she and aaric will make. well. I suppose him marrying a commoner who was previously someone else’s property was the first one, if you want to be technical.

[porsche-grey-barnes]

Bucky’s day out

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky barnes x BakerFem!Reader

Warnings: FLUFF!!!, like mouth watering eye tearing fluff, the avengers being nosey, MJ x peter parker (tom and zendaya),

Master list

Next chapter

Previous chapter

enjoy<3

————————————— <3 ——————————————

Steve was excited.

Not only because this girl was putting a smile on Bucky's face, but because even way back when, bucky was always a ‘one date and we’re done’ type of guy.

Steve could tell buck was serious about this mystery girl, not only because the only ‘souvenir’ he used to keep were memories, or tickets from movies, but because steve hasn't seen that smile from bucky in over 30 years.

The smile that would make him look like he was 22 again, like before he went into war, like…he had something to live for.

He would find a way to thank this girl. One day.

Steve, sam, and bucky headed out on thair run the former two wearing small ear pieces.

“So…buck?” sam started.

“Yes?” the brunett supersoldier answered scepticlly.

“Where is it you run off to every day?” sam asked.

————————————— <3 ——————————————

Bucky didnt want anyone to know.

Only doctor Raynor knew about his secret angel, and that’s because she had to know.

He liked keeping y/n to himself. It was his own slice of paradise.

Talking and flirting with her felt so….right.

“Detour” is all bucky answered.

“Need to work off thoes extra calories from all the coffee you bring back?” sam asked.

Crap. damn it sam, couldnt you leave well enough alone. Cant i atleast have her to myself before people ruin it? DAMN IT! I almost missed the turn.

“yeah , sure, man,hey so listen. You guys go on ahead, im gunna take that detour.” bucky said as he stopped at the entrance.

“Why dont we go with you? I could use a cup of coffee. Steve?”

“Yeah we should-” steve was cut off by bucky.

“NO! I-i-mean i- uhm” think barnes.THINK!

“I use this time to think, get better hold of the old me, ya’know?” bucky technically wasnt lying, when he talks to y/n he feels more like himself then ever before. Even before the war.

“yeah, man, go ahead,” sam said. And bucky took off.

Man, i really want to be next to her. She’ll make this sinking feeling go away, just by being there.

————————————— <3 ——————————————

“He’s on the move. Red one and two, any sight?” sam said.

Sam wasnt doing this to be nosey like the others, him and steve actually cared for bucky and want to make sure this girl isnt using him for some kind of five minutes of fame.

“Red one and two here. We have eyes on the target. Hawk?” natasha said as sam and steve nodded to eachother and started down the same path as Bucky just left from.

“Hawks. The bird has flew from the nest.i repeat, the bird has flew from the nest.” the entier team groaned at clint trying to sound cool.

“Tin man?”

“I have eyes on mr.loverman.” Tony said.

A screech came from the other side of the comms making both men stop in thair tracks.

“Sorry, dear friends, i had pressed to hard on the miniature cell phone in my ear.” thor’s broad voice came threw.

“Brother, you arent supposed to press it twice, just the once and lightly at that.” you could hear loki’s eyeroll.

“Love birds, any sight?” sam asked.

“Mr. lover man just passed us. Hes heading towards green team.”

“We have eyes on barnes, he- he stopped. He’s walking into mars’ bakery?” bruce said.

“No, no no no. please dont let bucky be y/n’s guy, please” peter said.

Sam and steve made it to mars’ bakery, and walked in and hid in the crowed.

They saw bucky get in line, his fingers twitching as he got closer and closer to the register.

Once he got there, it wasnt y/n who was there, he could tell from peters picture, it was peters girlfriend.

“Hey, MJ, is she here?” bucky said, and MJ had a knowing smile, and turned around.

“y/n! Your favriot customer is here! See yah buck,” she said and left.

There was some pans banging and then a woman came out from the back in a flour covered apron and flour on her face.

Her eyes scanned the cafe and she visibly brightened when they laned on him, buckys face a mirror of hers.

“Hey doll, what do you have for me today?” he said.

She went to the coffee machines and started to make some kind of drink.

“I call it a summer fling. It’s a bit sweeter than usual, but you might still like it.” she said.

a voice came in threw the line.

“Barnes just thought ‘this is my chance to start off stronger then usual, to give a hint.’” wandas voice came through.

“Can’t be sweeter then you, doll, but hey, I love to eat sweet things.” and bucky winked. Actually winked.

y/n’s face went red, steves mouth was open and peter was getting up.

“Im going to kill him.” peter said.

“I’v never heard him be so brave. Im honestly impressed.” steve put his hand on peter and dragged him back down as he said so.

“So, im not going to get her phone number?” loki asked. And peter glared at him.

“I-ugh- wow- i- here is your coffee, james. Any reason you’re acting so bold?” y/n asked.

“What can i say, doll? Iv got some plans. Anyway, you guys still doing that message’s on a cup thing tomorrow?” bucky said.

“Oh, uhm, yeah, we are. I cant wait! It’ll be so fun!” the girls smile was wide.

“Barnes thought’s were ‘what i wouldnt give for that smile.’ and ‘make her blush again, barnes!’.” wanda informed.

Wanda’s powers have been growing since she started to work with stephen strange.

“Well thats good. I actually have a question for MJ if i can?” bucky said. y/n’s face fell a bit, but not enough to say anything.

“The girl thought ‘am i too boring?’ poor thing is missguided.” wanda says from the comms.

“Of course! MJ! James has a quick question for you!” y/n says brightly, but im pretty sure we can all tell its fake.

“Red and blue, we have passed our land time by a minute. We have to go.” bruce says.

“Got it green.” Steve says and we all leave and head back to the tower.

And now, we all fake the fact that we definitely weren’t following our close friend to see who made him so happy every day.

[cressidagrey]

not gonna lie I scream when I saw there was a new chapter

verstappen just being iconic like always, not surprised there, I'm just so happy Belle has a really amazing support group, it's what she deserves, I'm gonna start to ramble so I apologize for how long this is gonna be

first, I can't believe they also missed her graduation, like Belle baby, I'm so sorry I wasn't your mother, she just deserves the world I'm actually crying

I actually appreciate Arthur not making this about him (no like someone who's names starts with a C) he still has a long way to go with a lot of apologies and actually being there for Belle, but this was a good start for them reconnecting

I'm like a little hesitant with Lorenzo but curious about how he is gonna handle all of this, like I feel him being the oldest is like more hard to forgive because he is the person she was supposed to have when no one noticed she was not okay, as a little sister I can't imagine how hard that was for Belle

now, Pascale, I'm just not satisfied about her pain right now, like it feels not completely honest, and making it about herself more than about Belle, it's the same with charles, like THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU, it's about the pain you caused on this angel, they have a really long journey to go if they don't realize what is the problem

charles is so annoying I just want to get myself in this universe and give him a putazo (like a punch just in Spanish😭) I'm still speechless his first thought was that she married Jos, like how stupid can you be, I'm so glad Arthur and Fred traid to put some sense in his dumb mind, but bless him (not really) he needs to start using his brain cells, not everything is gonna solve being pretty

anyway that was so long and I apologize but I needed to vent, can't wait to the next chapter of this beautiful story (I genuinely was seeing if there was a new chapter every hour, that's how obsessed I'm with this)

Your message is honestly everything! 😭💖 I’m so glad you loved the new chapter! I can feel all the emotions you’re going through, and trust me, I feel the pain with you. Belle deserves the world, and it’s honestly heartbreaking that they missed her graduation. She’s so strong, and I’m so glad she has an incredible support system now.

Arthur’s growth is definitely a step in the right direction, and I’m glad you appreciate him not making it about him this time. But you’re right—he’s still got a lot of work to do. As for Lorenzo, I get your hesitation. Being the oldest sibling and the one who should’ve been there for Belle is a lot, and I think we’re going to see his character evolve as he realizes how much he failed her. Belle’s position as the overlooked middle sister is tough, and it makes her journey that much harder to watch.

Pascale? Ugh, I hear you. Her pain is definitely more about her own guilt and ego than Belle’s suffering. It’s frustrating to watch her try to make it about herself when she has done so much damage. And Charles? Don’t even get me started. I wish you could step into the universe and give him that “putazo”! 😂 He really needs to stop thinking everything can be fixed with his looks, and I’m glad Arthur and Fred are trying to knock some sense into him.

Your venting is totally valid, and I’m so glad you feel comfortable sharing all your thoughts! You’re amazing, and I love that you’re so obsessed with the story. I promise there’s more to come, and I’m so excited to continue this journey with you. 💖✨ Thank you for your incredible feedback!

[tomatette]

Chapter 1

Billy doesn’t wake with a start as you might think he would after what happened at the mall. 

The memories are still so very fresh. Pain, first and foremost. Sharp talons digging into the tender meat of his sides, piercing his flesh. His panicked nerves sending lightning strike after lightning strike of pure, unadulterated agony into his thalamus, from where it scattered like wildfire through his brain, sparking every circuit that knew how to scream.

And, oh, scream he did. Until his throat was raw and he could taste black bile on his tongue.

He knew, then, that this would be the end. Had known it from the moment he’d surfaced from the bottomless well he’d kept drowning in whenever the shadow took over, which was pretty much always.

But he just hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of the girl, who had touched his face so tenderly, to die the same gruesome death he’d condemned the others to.

He sees them all the time, it’s like their faces are burned onto the inside of his closed lids. Men, women, children. Every single one he had fed to the shadow. God, there are so many of them. And they are surrounding him, their mouths open in silent screams, their eyes full of fear and rage and hatred, cutting into him sharper than the monster’s claws ever had, tearing him apart.

And right in the front: Heather.

He cannot bear to meet her gaze. She’d been worried about him, and look what it had gained her.

But it’s not an entirely new development, that. All he’s ever done was hurt the people around him. Even before the shadow. Max. Her friends. Harrington.

A whine escapes his throat, tearing the soft tissue on its way out. He squeezes his eyes shut but the tears escape anyway, burning salty trails wetting the hair at his temples.

So no, he doesn’t wake with a start, but slowly, gradually. And, frankly, he thinks he shouldn’t be waking at all. Because by all rights he should be just as dead as them. Still, they are gone and he’s not. So he decides that, no, maybe he really doesn’t deserve to be dead. Death would be too easy. 

The first thing he feels is the sun on his face. Something he had never expected to feel again. A soft breeze caresses his face, slightly cooler where the tear tracks are drying.

Where is he? It can’t be the mall, but he has no recollection of getting out (but he remembers dying, remembers it vividly).

His lashes are clumped, his lids heavy when he tries to open his eyes and squints when painfully bright light drills a direct path into his brain, making his whole head throb and pulse. Bile floods his mouth, bitter and sharp, and he rolls over retching, curling in on himself.

A voice that sounds eerily like his father’s sneers: “Look at you, can’t even die like a man, huh? Spineless pussy.”

It doesn’t hurt like it used to, which, he supposes, is a good thing. And when he finally manages to open his eyes, it’s not Neil he’s seeing, but the gentle, smiling face of his mother.

“M-Mom?”

Soft, golden light surrounds her head like a halo, the wind plays with the sun bleached strands of her hair. It makes her look angelic. Ethereal. 

“My darling boy.” She cups his face, still smiling and his heart swells with emotions he can’t even begin to decipher, when suddenly her eyes turn sharp and her fingers dig into his cheeks, holding him still. “What a grave disappointment you are. Getting rid of you was the best decision I’ve ever made …”

And then she starts to laugh and Billy reels back, eyes wide in terror.

He wakes with a start.

*

I posted the full chapter on Ao3 but for registered users only. Please let me know if you want me to post the full chapter on tumblr too.

[vicedmuses]

there was something about mike that was alluring. brett wanted to show him all sides of him. it seemed like even when he did, the man didn't care. he didn't run away screaming when he saw his pearly white teeth. his fangs. did this man have some sort of death wish? did he normally attract danger at this magnitude? if the vampire was any different, he would have lectured him on how to be better, on how to take care of himself more. maybe on how to not fall into a trap. then he would've lectured him that if a monster was after him, making out definitely wasn't the right thing to do. he would've if he were good. he wasn't though and all of this just made him want mike some more. “do i look like the type of person who gives a damn about being selfish or not?” he shook his head slowly. “no no, my pleasure is the only one that matters.” he wasn't going to admit to the amount of time. he couldn't. that would have been giving up too much power and he was already used to having more power in a dynamic than this conversation. “i do think you're pretty. i thought that part was obvious when my tongue was down your throat, but i guess not?” sarcasm laced his words as his tongue darted out to lick his own lips. almost like showing him what he was getting moments before. “i know you think i'm hot. it's okay. you don't have to be scared about what you're feeling right now.”

technically, he didn't even know what he was feeling in that moment. there was a sense of pride that filled him up when mike said that he didn't want another man. he only wanted him. the vampire didn't do emotions, at least he didn't think he did. not as a human, not as a vampire, not as anything. that just wasn't something that was on his radar or important for him to think about. now though? he would never admit to rethinking that whole thing, but he was feeling an attraction for the man. one that went beyond adrenaline or hormones. even if he drank from him, he wanted to still see him and be around him. almost like he felt a little bit more energized with … whatever mike was … around. did he think that he was going to make him a better man? probably not. brett didn't even let his nagging brother get the best of him and change his ways. so he highly doubted that this would change him for the better. still, when he was with mike, he didn't necessarily feel like going out and committing a crime.

"i would like to interject here to say that while we weren't exactly planning this moments before, he didn't pull away. hell, i think he was ready to let me fuck him right here and now if you didn't walk in on us. so can you be a dear and just leave?" his brother's commentary mixing in with mike's explanation wasn't helping anyone. if anything, it made rhett even more confused. how did they end up going from chasing each other down to ripping each other's clothes off? the werewolf did have to chuckle though. at least it wasn't like his brother was the angel in this story. “he is an asshole, yeah. everyone knows it, but most people don't jump into the sack with him because he's such a dick.” since it almost sounded like the other was using that as an excuse for being turned on by him. the vampire just flashed another smile at him. “have you no survival skills? they always say you should humanize yourself to your hunters so they won't want to kill you.” the werewolf wasn't really surprised his brother was acting that way. what he was surprised about was why mike seemed to like it. “so you're both horny, but only one of you is a sadist while the other is a masochist?” he just wanted to make sure that he had all of the details correct.

at the mention of all three of them leaving together, both of the brothers glared at each other. neither of them had a problem with making a long trip. for brett, he could probably cut most of that time down and do it multiple times. for rhett, his legs were strong enough that he probably wouldn't have gotten tired. the detective was the first one to reply. “you're going to keep on getting yourself into trouble, so i might as well tag along no matter who else is there.” he took off his zipped up hoodie to hand it over to the other. at some point, it seemed like somebody had tried to rip mike's clothing. brett seemed to have a smug look on his face when he realized why he was trying to cover him up. “darling, i am the trouble you keep running into yet i can't seem to get you away from me.” although, if he was preoccupied with the other man, that meant he was going to have less time to hunt another meal. someone he didn't care about killing. so both brothers walked out of the shack and waited to place their arms around mike. the vampire around his waist and the werewolf around his shoulders. the clear distinction between hot and cold was apparent from both of them. hopefully mike didn't get sick. then, the detective continued the conversation. “so, mike, what were you doing before brett here found you?”

Maybe it was fitting that he’d fallen for Brett. No one in his family really had normal relationships. Maybe it was in their blood—to crave the wrong people, to mess things up before they even had a chance to go right. Mike made bad choices like it was second nature, but that was a whole other rabbit hole he wasn’t about to fall down. Not yet. Still, it was getting harder to pretend. Harder to hide how his body reacted, how his voice softened without permission, how his guard cracked whenever Brett looked at him like that. The kind of look that could be manipulative—or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Brett was just that intense. That honest. Hell, he seemed more honest lately. Sure, trust and protection sounded nice—but in Rosewood, that didn’t mean much. Anyone from there could’ve told you that. And still, Mike was going against every instinct to run. To shut down. Instead, he leaned in.

“Oh yeah? Some would say that’s selfish,” he teased, his voice low, playful. “Shouldn’t it be their pleasure is your pleasure?” And then he saw it—just a flash, but enough to confirm his earlier suspicion. The teeth. Not fully human. Not exactly a vampire either, but close enough to set off every alarm in his head. He should be afraid. But he wasn’t. Quietly, like the moment didn’t need words, Mike cupped Brett’s face. His thumb traced his cheek, slow and tender. It wasn’t fear. It was something else. Acceptance. Maybe even curiosity. Maybe more than that. “Oh? So you were being a creep?” he laughed softly. “Do I even wanna know how long? Days? Hours? Weeks?” He groaned, burying his face for a second. “God...” The blush bloomed before he could stop it. No one had ever said something like that to him. Not like that. And the thing was—he could tell Brett wasn’t just saying it to get in his pants. He could’ve lied. Spun some pretty line. But he didn’t. “The feeling’s... very mutual,” Mike murmured, leaning in to give him a quick, meaningful kiss. He pulled back just enough to smirk. “So you admit I’m pretty.” His voice dropped into a softer register. “Well, a very handsome, very charming man is doing the same to me. So... guess that makes two of us.”

Mike playfully rolled his eyes at Brett’s response, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t know why he’d expected anything different—Brett always had a way of answering that walked the line between honesty and charm. And damn if it wasn’t working. Not that it had to. Mike was already in too deep. “Good to know I’m in good hands,” he said, voice dropping into something low and teasing—seductive, even. Two could play this game. For a split second, Mike considered telling Brett the truth—that he’d never done this before. Not like this. That he was ready to give himself completely. No walls. No lies. Just trust. “Please... I don’t want another man,” he whispered, the words heavy with truth, edged with something raw and real. But fate had other plans. Just as the moment was moving along, they were interrupted.

This had to be the most embarrassing moment of his entire life. And somehow, every word that came out of Mike’s mouth just made it worse. His explanation was a disaster. The guy probably thought he was either easy—or straight-up mentally unwell. Which, okay, maybe he had a few issues, but this wasn’t about that. Brett wasn’t helping, of course. Not that Mike expected him to. If anything, Brett probably didn't care they’d gotten caught. “No! It’s not like that!” Mike blurted out, waving his hands like that would magically fix everything. “He was attacking me—at first! But he stopped when all that chaos broke out. Something was about to hit him, and it was the only safe spot, okay?” He winced. Yeah, this wasn’t sounding any better. “I ended up on top of him, we weren’t exactly planning it,” Mike continued, digging his grave deeper. “And yeah, I got to know him a little better in the process. Murder-y tendencies aside, he’s not all bad. Still kind of an asshole, but... that’s part of the charm, I guess?”

He shot Brett a sharp glare. ��May I remind you that you were literally trying to kill me? We didn’t exactly have time for pleasantries. And you made no effort to learn my name, either, Brett.” His tone had bite, but the roll of his eyes carried more sass than venom. Then Rhett stepped in scolding Brett and Mike had to bite back a laugh. He wasn’t surprised Brett didn’t listen, but what did surprise him was the warmth of Rhett’s jacket being draped around his shoulders. He hadn’t even realized he was cold until that moment. The difference between the two guys was... stark. Night and day. One tried to kill him, the other was wrapping him up like something worth protecting. “Likewise, Rhett,” Mike said, his voice softer now. “I... I lost control, too. Brett’s not completely to blame. And I’m sorry you had to witness all that. I’m not usually like that.” He didn’t know why it mattered so much—what Rhett thought of him—but it did. A lot. Maybe too much.

Mike caught himself before reaching out to touch Rhett, not sure where the urge was coming from. It was the same strange pull he felt with Brett. Maybe it had something to do with whatever flew at them or that damn book .“That would be nice, yeah,” he nodded, responding to Rhett’s offer. “As long as I’m not running. Breaks would be good—it’s a bit of a distance. But... thank you.” For a second, he got lost in the warmth of the moment—until Brett grabbed his arm, yanking him back into the chaos. Mike turned, arching an eyebrow at him. “Of course. Even though, you did try to kill me,” he teased. Now he was stuck between the two of them—literally and emotionally He liked both of them. And he wasn’t sure why. Rhett was gentler, kinder. Easier to talk to. Brett? He was chaos and fire and danger... but not just that. “Do you guys mind if we all go together?” Mike asked, glancing between them. “Something still feels off. Whatever happened earlier, I don’t know if it was something that from the bottles or whatever the book was. Either way, it’s probably not smart to be left alone. Or leave Brett alone either, for that matter.”

[celestialtrolls]

A Letter of Recommendation

Angel || Past || ~650 words

-

When living in the countryside, with an extremely long commute to her school in the nearest town, Angel usually stayed on the school grounds for as long as the gates were open, taking advantage of the internet connection and waiting for the rush hour to end before even thinking about packing her bags.

This usually led to her being the only student left, and often she would be asked to move to sit in the headmistresses' office so that she wasn't left unattended as all the other teachers went home.

And so it had become routine, and usually the evenings consisted of sitting in a comfortable silence. The elder would be taking care of her business, filing documents or writing reports, and Angel would work on essays or research.

This evening, about halfway through her final school year, was a little different however. Earlier in the day, as the headmistress had been making her rounds into each of the classrooms, she had placed an envelope on Angel's desk.

-

"A military university? Sorry Miss Diniav, but I'm not really interested in fighting."

"There's more to our fleet than just shooting at enemies. There are logistics, supply, developing technology, public relations - You would benefit from moving to a capital and attending."

The tealblood doesn't look up from her laptop as Myraki stands over her, typing away at an essay that is demanding her attention - an analysis into a series of cases led by a famous legislacerator of the past, a topic Angel had become intimately familiar with since choosing it for some of her coursework.

"Law is very competitive for tealbloods, and I have no doubt that you would succeed in the field, but you're bright enough that you could go into any industry. Everyone who graduates this university gets a position in the fleet - and a good position, if they seek it. Ones that pay more, are less dangerous, and you wouldn't have to work so hard as this."

A sweeping gesture at the laptop and the pile of books and folders on the desk punctuates the violet's sentence, and silence falls in the room as the keyboard taps pause. It's hard to discern Angel's expression through the curtain of hair covering the majority of her face, but her lips are pressed into a frown.

"You don't think I should be working hard?" Despite the frown, her speech on it's own is light, almost a laugh behind her voice.

"Don't misinterpret me on purpose." In contrast, the headmistress's tone is sharp enough to cut fabric, but Angel doesn't seem fazed. "But your teachers have expressed concern that you have allowed yourself to have an undeveloped social ability due to your uncanny focus on study. You're never seen speaking to your peers. You would benefit from a field where you are able to learn to balance your schedule."

Angel lifts her head, the frown now wider. Of all people to lecture her about 'social connection', she did not expect it to be the headmistress who had come into the school to straighten everyone out and focus on academics. On second thought however, the fact that she had been former Fleet, working in teams and with people working under her...

It makes sense that even she sees the value of other people. Annoying.

"I spoke to some of my former colleagues in Druzhale, and with my recommendation and a high score in the entrance exam, you could get a scholarship and move to the city. It is very rare for people from outside the city to get a placement there, do you understand? You will consider it."

The atmosphere in the room after such a lecture was heavy, and Angel did not begin typing again. Words gathered on her tongue, despite not being sure of how she felt, how she should feel, but sitting on a convoluted mix; maybe somewhere between anger and pride. But she swallows them all down, and shuts her laptop.

"I'll be heading home early."

[purpleshadow-star]

So, the season finale of Hazbin Hotel came out last night.

Spoilers ahead

I was never part of the Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss fandom(s), though I have been watching Helluva Boss since about midway through when season one was being released. I only watched the pilot for Hazbin Hotel maybe six months to a year ago, and I only ever watched it once. I never kept up with VivziePop or whatever was happening behind the scenes. I watched Hazbin Hotel as it came out the past few weeks, I’ve watched some TikToks about it over the past week, and I read through a few (like, three) of the character’s wiki pages like, yesterday.

So, with all of my inexperience in the fandom and in this universe, I’m going to try to predict how the show is going to end.

Kind of.

Well, I’m going to make a prediction.

I think Angel Dust will be the last resident of the hotel we see get redeemed.

Angel was the first resident of the hotel. It’s only fitting that he’d be the last (that we see, anyway).

I think that season one was almost like a set-up season. The main characters and their characterizations/arcs have been established. The main problem, the extermination, has been temporarily dealt with. It’s been proven that the main objective in the show, redeeming sinners through the Hazbin Hotel, is possible. Seeds of a bigger plot and future trouble have been planted.

Now that the bigger plot things are out of the way, I think the show will be able to (hopefully) slow the pace down now and really focus on the hotel itself and the redemption process of the sinners that choose to be there, along with the individual characters and their personal journeys and arcs.

I think that Sir Pentious getting redeemed and making it into Heaven proved that the concept of the hotel can work, so now that they have the bigger, newly built hotel, they’ll start to get more residents. We’ll meet and bond with more characters as the seasons go on and they’ll go through the hotel and eventually get redeemed and go to Heaven.

I think that during all of this, for the next few seasons, we’ll see Angel work towards redeeming himself too. At this point, he’s accepted the hotel. He’s accepted his place there and he’s been visibly getting better. We’ll see him continue his path to redemption while also dealing with Valentino, his contract with him, and any other personal conflicts that arise.

I think that partway through the show, we’ll see Angel start to kind of put off becoming fully redeemed. Maybe he’ll just slow down, but I think we’ll see him become more apprehensive about completing his redemption.

At this point, he’ll probably already be in an official relationship with Husk, and his situation with Valentino might be resolved or at least not as much of an issue anymore. I think he’ll start putting off officially moving on into Heaven because he realizes that he doesn’t want to leave his friends behind. He won't want to leave the friends he’s made at the hotel, so even though he might be ready or almost ready to go to Heaven, he’ll just keep putting it off.

I think Angel’s ascension to Heaven will be the big series finale. I think that it’ll be a big emotional moment. Angel will accept that it’s time to move on, and there will be an emotional scene where he says goodbye to Charlie (who, as a Hellborn demon and not a mortal soul, can’t go to Heaven like the other sinners), and Vaggie (who will choose to stay with Charlie and has no desire to go back to Heaven), and probably Alastor (who loves his power and control too much to want anything to do with redemption himself) and maybe Niffty (I’m undecided about whether she’ll try for redemption, but I’m thinking no, at least as of right now). If Husk stays behind, that’ll be an absolutely heartbreaking goodbye too, but I’m thinking that, at some point in the show, Husk might decide to try for redemption as well, so maybe he and Angel are going together and saying their goodbyes together.

I think we’ll get a teary goodbye for the people Angel is leaving behind in Hell, but we’ll also get a joyous reunion scene where he meets up with all the redeemed souls in Heaven as well. He’ll get to see all the former residents we got to meet throughout the show, and maybe he’ll even have a moment where he gets to reunite with his sister, too. It’ll be a somewhat bittersweet moment, but a happy one overall, because Angel Dust, the first resident of the Hazbin Hotel, who didn’t take it seriously in the beginning and thought redemption wasn’t possible, who went through so much in Hell and who didn’t think things could get better for him, will have finally completed the journey to redemption and moved on to Heaven.

And then maybe we’ll get an epilogue-esque scene or series of clips of Charlie and Vaggie happily continuing to help redeem sinners in the Hazbin Hotel, of Angel and the other redeemed souls happily living their best afterlives in Heaven, of the redeemed sinners meeting and welcoming new redeemed souls into Heaven as they come in.

And maybe, taking place some time in the future, maybe years after Angel goes to Heaven, we’ll get a moment of Charlie and Vaggie, and any of the other original cast that stayed in Hell, being allowed to take a day trip into Heaven. Maybe we’ll get to see them reunite with the redeemed sinners in Heaven in person for the first time since the redeemed souls left, and it’ll be a happy reunion where they’re all just happy to see each other again and catch up. Maybe at this point the show has already established a way for the redeemed souls to still be able to communicate and keep in touch with those in Hell, so maybe this isn’t the first time the two groups have spoken to each other since the redeemed souls left the hotel, but maybe it is the first time since the redeemed souls left that they’ve been able to see each other in person, so the teary hugs all around are expected and maybe even appreciated.

Maybe the show will end on a happy note, where our first and most skeptical hotel resident ends up happily redeemed with a partner who loves and values him for who he is and friends who care for him, and where our main character is able to fulfill her dreams of helping her subjects find the best version of themselves and move on to a better place.

Maybe the extermination no longer happens, so there’s no more deadlines. Maybe being redeemed is no longer just an escape from second death. Not every soul in Hell is going to want to change, but for Charlie, it’s not about redeeming every soul. The Hazbin Hotel started as a way to decrease Hell’s population so that the extermination would no longer be necessary, so that no more souls, however awful, would be needlessly killed, but Charlie knows that the extermination was never about overpopulation, and yet she’s still going through with the hotel and she’s still working to redeem sinners.

So, maybe the extermination is a thing of the past, but Charlie will still continue running the hotel and giving sinners another chance, because everyone deserves another chance. Because Hell isn’t forever, and despite whatever some people did when they were alive, they deserve the chance to try to redeem themselves. They deserve the chance to try to be better. And that’s Charlie’s dream. She just wants to give her subjects the opportunity to do better, and not everyone will take it, but in the end, we'll see that all the effort was worth it for those few souls who do.

So, to recap: I think Angel Dust will be the last sinner we see get redeemed. We might get clips and/or mentions of souls after him, but he’ll be the last character to go to Heaven who’s journey to redemption we’ve seen. In the series finale, he’ll be the last major character to be redeemed, and we’ll get to see him live his best life in Heaven while Charlie happily stays behind in Hell to help guide more souls along the path to redemption.

Or at least, that’s something I’d like to see, anyway.

[soulsxng]

Good evening/afternoon/morning, my friendos. Today, I am being enabled to add to my fae children and give some of the angels some rivals

I don't have names for them yet (If I've gotta fuck with fae names, it's gonna be a minute, okay--), but they're both originally from Unseelie; high ranking and long standing knights serving the former ruler before their assassination by the hand of the current ruler took place. Though they were given the choice to switch sides, they decided against it, and instead slipped away before they could be imprisoned or killed.

For a short while following this, they were displaced knights that were trying to keep under Unseelie's radar...until some of the Tuath Dé Danann found them and took the pair under their wing. The two knights now serve these former deities in the Otherworlds in gratitude for the mercy they were shown unprompted.

[mariasont]

HI i have an idea and its making me really giddy

ok so reader is a translator for the bau and they’re always reading and translating texts or calls or anything like that. and the reader to spencer is basically like penelope to derek. they flirt all the time and all of those lovely things.. and it’s kinda just where they’re flirting on the phone and morgan teases reid about it and reid gets all flustered

IDK IF IT CAN WORK I JUST LOVE FLUSTERED SPENCER :(

anyway i’ll probably be in your inbox a bunch uhhh so call me h or something

-h

Warm Under the Collar - S.R

summary: spencer insists he is not flirting. morgan insists that spencer absolutely is. one of them is lying. pairings: spencer reid x translator!reader warnings: heavy flirting, pre-relationship mutual pining, verbal sparring as foreplay, workplace hr violations, use of angel wc: 0.6k

“Are you thinking about me, Dr. Reid? Because I’ve been thinking about you.”

Spencer exhales, tugging at the collar of his dress shirt as if loosening it might alleviate the sudden stranglehold of your words. He wasn’t sure if it was always this constricting or if it was conspiring against him at the mere sound of your voice.

He rolls his eyes, performative, really, because you can’t see him, and it’s easier to feign exasperation than admit the effect you have on him. His mouth, however, twitches in betrayal, flirting with a smile before he crushes it. 

The crime board he was supposed to be focusing on, filled with monochrome photos and reports, was now blurring into meaningless scribbles as his thoughts veer off-course, plummeting headfirst into you.

“I’m always thinking about you.”

The words come easily because they require no effort to be true. Always isn’t hyperbole, it’s a mathematical constant, an irrefutable fact.

He was thinking about you before he even called you, felt the shape of you in his mind like an afterimage burned onto his retinas. 

Thought about what color you were wearing, whether your hair was up or down. He wondered if you’d eaten, if you were drinking enough water, if you’d remembered to bring a jacket to the office because the temperature had dropped unexpectedly. 

“Always? Spencer, if you wanted me that bad, all you had to do was say so.”

He isn’t sure why he hesitates — why his brain takes a detour through all the ways he has said so, if not in words, then in the way his thoughts orbit you like a law of nature. 

“I feel like I did say so. Quite literally. But if you’d like me to be more explicit about it, I’m happy to oblige.”

Another pause. He wonders if you’re smiling.

“Mmm, well, I’m certainly not going to stop you.” You sigh, a little dramatic. “Go ahead, be explicit.”

Spencer physically winces at how hot his face gets. The very concept of explicit sits indecently in the pit of his stomach.

“Tempting.” He exhales, rubs a hand down his face, forcibly redirects. “But I do actually have a job to do. And, lucky for me, it just so happens to require your specific set of skills.” 

He leans against the crime board, half-smirking despite himself, because if nothing else, this is fun — the sharp back-and-forth, the way you press all the right buttons just to see what happens.

“I have a recording that needs translating. Think you can focus for long enough to help me, or do I need to, I don’t know, compliment your intelligence first to get you in a professional mindset?”

“Complimenting my intelligence to get what you want? Interesting. Manipulative, even.”

He groans, tilting his head toward the ceiling, appealing to some higher power for patience. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t say I was going to —”

“Too late, you put the idea in my head, and now I expect it. Preferably in an eloquent, well-structured speech. Bonus points if you make it poetic.”

“Or,” he counters, “you could translate the recording first, and I’ll… circle back to stroking your ego at a later, more convenient time.”

A small pause. The kind that feels intentional, like you’re weighing your options.

“I guess that works,” you say. “Send it over, pretty boy.”

Spencer shakes his head, fingers moving on autopilot as he sends the file, because if he thinks too hard about the way you lilted that last pretty boy, he might die. “Alright, thanks. Be good, angel.”

He hangs up, still grinning like an idiot, still entirely too warm under the collar. He exhales, staring at the phone in his hand like it might have the decency to cool him off, maybe undo the physiological mess you’ve left him in.

“If I have to listen to one more of your phone calls with her, I’m sending y’all an invoice.”

Spencer freezes when he sees Morgan standing behind him.

He clears his throat, ignoring the flush he knew was climbing up his neck. “Flirting is an unsubstantiated claim.”

Morgan just stares at him. Stares. “You don’t even believe that.”

Spencer mutters something about professionalism because he’s nothing if not a walking contradiction.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[bloodnight-blaze]

“ who cares, baby? i think i wanna marry you. ”

ft. xavier, zayne, rafayel, and sylus w a gn!reader.

synopsis: you marry the love of your life.

notes: started off as silly thoughts for my friend and then turned into this so. take it. enjoy it.

warnings: not canon to the story of the game, self-indulgent, weddings, sickeningly sweet fluff, they all cry lol, it's short and it's sweet, reader does wear a dress so sorry if that's something that makes you uncomfortable, petnames used: starlight (x), sunshine (z), angel (r), princess (s).

XAVIER — certainly fantasized about getting married, but it was never something he actually expected to happen. Not until he met you. It wasn't love at first sight, but when you two entered a relationship, he could just see himself marrying you.

When he proposed, he had been so nervous that he barely slept the night before, which is saying something. But you accepted with a bright smile, and the man nearly smothered you to death with a hug. The mere thought of marrying you has him smiling, honestly.

He doesn't care how big or small the wedding is, though when it turns out to be a small wedding he finds he prefers it that way. There's an air of excitement at the wedding, most of the guests being your own friends and family since there wasn't anyone for him to invite.

Xavier knew he was going to cry. There's no denying it, he knew he'd cry at some point during the day because, I mean... he's marrying you. He's the luckiest man alive. He just thought he'd hold strong a little longer, but the tears were falling when you walked down the aisle in your breathtaking dress.

His gaze was drawn to you the entire time. Nothing else mattered but you. The way the fairy lights bathed you in this beautiful golden glow, the way you smiled at him with all the love in the world... it was like you contained galaxies in your eyes.

The vows were short and sweet, and when the officiant says you two can kiss, he was quick to gently cup your face in his hands. He could only hope the kiss he pressed against your lips conveyed the sheer and utter adoration he felt for you.

This was the beginning of a new chapter for the two of you, and while he's sure nothing will change, he can't help but being excited at the idea of being able to refer to you as his spouse.

ㅤ— “ I love you, my starlight. Until every last star dies, I love you. ”

ZAYNE — had always known that he would marry you one day. Ever since you two were kids, he had imagined it. You're the only person he's ever loved, so if he ever got married, it would be to you or no one at all. It was only a matter of time, really.

The actual proposal was nothing big. You two had dinner at his place and the box with the ring rested in the place he knew you'd be able to see it. He hadn't been nervous when he proposed, but he can't deny that his heart was racing when he popped the question.

He'll definitely want the wedding to be small, just a couple of friends and family on each side. His parents were overjoyed to learn about his engagement and made sure to clear their schedule for the day of the wedding, and he had invited a few friends from work as well.

Zayne hadn't really wanted to cry, especially not in front of so many people, but he couldn't stop the tears from blurring his gaze when he saw you walking down the aisle. How could he not cry, when he felt so overwhelmed by his love for you?

It was the first time he saw you in your wedding dress as well, since you had been so adamant at keeping to tradition. You weren't lying when you said you would match your dress to his suit.

The bouquet of flowers in your hands only added to the beauty of... everything about you. So he won't deny that he cried, his gaze never once breaking from you even when the officiant started to speak.

He was able to keep his tears in check for the rest of the ceremony, and once you two were home and no longer wearing your wedding clothes, he found it near impossible to stray from your side for you long. His hand was almost always interlocked with yours, his finger absently brushing against the wedding wing that bound the two of you together.

ㅤ— “ You've always been the love of my life, sunshine. You always will. ”

RAFAYEL — never thought about marriage. It's not something that ever entered his mind, and he avoided attending any weddings just to dodge the inevitable 'so when will we get an invite to your wedding' he'll no doubt be met with. It isn't until you entered his life that he started to give it some thought.

And when he did decide to propose to you, it had been spur of the moment. He bought the ring on a whim months ago, and he kept it in his pocket almost every time you two went out, waiting for the perfect moment. That perfect moment just so happens to be you spending the night at his place, laughing at his smears paint on your face. The question slipped out, and he seemed more shocked than you.

He was adamant on keeping the thing small, even though Thomas wanted to invite a bunch of people once the man found out about the engagement.

The only people Rafayel was willing to invite was Thomas and a couple of crabs he befriended. Sure, your family and friends questioned why they were being seated with crabs, but it's not their wedding, now is it?

Before the wedding starts, he had gone to the bathroom to give himself a lengthy pep talk about how he was not going to cry at all at any point during the wedding. And for a good portion of it, he didn't. When you walked down the aisle wearing a beautiful dress that reminded him of the ocean, he didn't cry. When you guys shared your vows, exchanged rings, and kissed, he didn't cry.

No, Rafayel only cried when the first dance started. When the lights dimmed and you took his hand and pulled him close, he could feel his heart stuttering. You looked at him as if he were the only person in the world, like you never wanted to look away. The feeling of your wedding ring was cool against his skin, and it was impossible to stop the tears at this point.

He spent the entirety of your first dance together with his head buried in your shoulder just so people couldn't see his tears. Only you got to see him like this, because there's no one else he'd rather be vulnerable with.

ㅤ— “ I'd marry you over and over again, angel, until you get sick of me. ”

SYLUS — certainly thought marriage was something he'd never experience, given his lifestyle. What person would be insane enough to marry the leader of Onychinus, let alone date the man? You, apparently, because you became a pivotal part of his life.

He won't propose until he's absolutely certain that marrying him is something you'd be willing to do. Marrying him means really accepting the darker parts that come with being in a relationship with him, and he didn't want to force you into such a commitment. And when he does propose, he can't help the relief he feels when you say yes.

While the wedding isn't necessarily big, a few of his most trusted associates are invited, alongside your family and friends should you invite them. It's a strange mix of people, and a few of your friends will probably pull you to the side after the ceremony to ask what exactly it is that your husband does for a living.

For the most part, Sylus won't cry during the ceremony. Though, once you two start to recite your vows to each other, he does choke up a bit. Any man would be a fool not to tear up at the sight of their spouse professing their love to them. And it doesn't help that you're looking at him with pure and utter devotion in your gaze.

You were okay with who he was. With what he does. You weren't scared off by the darker aspects of his life, and you were vowing to stick by his side through whatever the world threw at you two. Crying only seemed natural. Other than the vows, Sylus stayed composed. Softer, than usual, but overall he kept his usual demeanor.

Truly, he thinks he could die happy now that he's married to you. The ring on his finger was a comfortable weight, and he'd find himself looking at it way more than he'd care to admit.

He spoiled you rotten before you two were married, but trust it'll only get worse now that you're his spouse. Anything you want, he'll get it for you. You deserve the whole world for wanting to spend the rest of your life with him.

ㅤ— “ I'm staring? How can I not stare at the key to my heart, princess? ”