#maybe it’s obvious but some things need to be shifted

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Six - Through the Haze

Part Five

———

There are some things in life that you don’t do, people you choose not to pick fights with and sayings you simply know to be true. There’s always a bigger fish, you can’t hit what your eyes don’t see, etc. One of those sayings is you shouldn’t fight pissed off organics, because they tend to go nuclear.

Most organics are ranked with a low danger level for the first few years of intergalactic relations, typically if a fight breaks out it is immediately raised. A little known fact, the organics of Earth were ranked a high danger level even before they reached their nearest satellite based on evidence that was scanned from space, it is entirely possible they have set off multiple nuclear arms on their own planet, potentially even against each other.

Fighting organics was stupid, they will win. Fighting humans was suicide.

—

Sunsteaker and Sideswipe came up from behind them, practically glowing from the overhead blaster fire, almost flying through the air as the haze cleared around them. Their visors were lit up bright, blades moving in synch to cleave the turret in half. Landing in the same instant, both light on their feet, standing together with chests lightly rising and falling as if breathing. Sunstreaker was the first to grab the shielding off the base and wedge it into the ground, offering a bit of cover, before Sideswipe did the same, “Move up!” Sunstreaker gestured towards where Hound and Breakdown were still providing covering fire.

There was still gun fire from overhead, but the barricade provided just enough cover to move up, Hound dove in and rested his back against it as Breakdown continued to lay down covering fire. His feet were braced as the shoulder cannon powered up even higher, exploding with covering fire. Hound shifted the grip on his own gun, checking over the scans and footage he got from the initial assault, “Do either of you know what we’re fighting?” There was an obvious answer, staring at the footage, but it couldn’t be true, “Looks like a couple mecha,” Sunstreaker was catching his breath still, “Maybe they had the same idea as us, to fight the freaks with the tentacles.” Sideswipe adds, also catching his breath, “Ready Sunny?” “When you are Sides.” They shared a brief glance before going over the barricade.

Hound, was still scanning the footage, hands shaking for a moment before he was up and firing at the logged targets. They were moving in the distance, trying to re-group, while Sunstreaker and Sideswipe took out another turret together. Watching them in battle was unlike anything else, moving entirely in synch as if both suits were manned by one pilot. But that was just the twins, as if the drift caught them both in the server and manifested them together.

It was time to focus, he needed to focus, Hound shook his head and steadied his hand while firing on the moving targets. Watching the land between them explode into shrapnel thanks to Breakdown’s cannon, “Watch out for the shrapnel you two!” Breakdown’s voice boomed over comms, the cannon slightly muffled by his microphone but still painfully loud, “We’ve got this old man, you just keep laying down the covering fire.” They even spoke together, “Stop being weird. Focus.” Hound’s voice cut in, full of determination as he was firing at the targets he couldn’t see, but his visual feeds picked up their heat signatures. Letting out a slow sigh, he fires again and one of the distant targets went down.

Throwing himself over the barricade, he follows the twins to the next turret, Hound’s breath slowing and heart rate leveling. Calm in the moment of the fight, his back slamming into the smoldering turret.

Sunstreaker cleaves what could best be described as an attack drone in half, Sideswipe doing the same before ducking back down behind some sort of machine, “Why do you think they’re attacking us?” The look spared by Sideswipe was hardly long enough to be a glance, “I don’t know, but we’ve got to show them who’s boss.” Sunstreaker smiles behind his visor, flicking his arms out with a practiced ease.

Breakdown was moving up the battle field, it already scarred from his barrage of attacks, sending rust particles everywhere. He was thankful for the filtration system in the suit, if it had even been bringing in outside oxygen. More thankful for the tanks of oxygen somewhere below his feet, each step was heavy as his feet flared out to balance the attack cannon on his shoulder, “Hound, what are we fighting here, my scanners are lacking.” “That’s not the only thing lacking,” Sunstreaker snorts, “I’m the one laying down the cover fire Sideswipe, I could misplace a shot.” “Communication is good guys, but keep it to the needed minimum.” Hound was in front of the twins now, moving much slower than the initial assault, the edge of the solar farm was within sight even in the haze. Whatever was firing on them was starting to retreat behind some structures.

“I think it’s fair to say that the artificial lights are in fact some sort of civilization.” Sunstreaker glances around the bit of cover he had, sighing slowly, “Oh really, you don’t say?” Sideswipe leaps over the over and cuts into something that shoots off a load of spark, a shot landing into his shoulder which sends him to the ground, “Damnit, I have to reroute my assist, cover me.” “Already on it.” Sunstreaker jumps over him and cleaves apart the blaster sticking out of the ground. Kicking away the remains and turning to shield his brother, taking a breath while the whine of a gun hummed nearby. He waited, before pouncing, cleaving through something that sprayed out bright pink fluid, “Oh gross!” Taking a partial steal back, Sunsteaker tries to clear his visual feed before getting an alert. Whatever he’d just gotten sprayed by, was incredibly toxic, “Shit!” Stumbling back, Sunstreaker wipes as much off as he can, Sideswipe finally regaining his feet and rushing over. Nearly colliding before reeling back, “What did they hit you with?” “It’s not eating through my plating, just don’t get it in your seems.” Taking a breath, Sunstreaker dove back into the fight with Sideswipe at his side. Both leaping into the air at the same time before coming down on another turret together, what had sprayed Sunstreaker left in the rusty haze.

The ground was looking less and less like a solar farm and more like a battle ground, from the mix of weapons on both sides. Hound was moving up as fast as he could, analyzing the data as it came in. It wasn’t right, none of it could be right because it wasn’t making any sense. There was a building a half klick to their south where they could re-group, swearing, Hound activated his comm, “We’re moving south to the warehouse, better there than being stuck in the open. Breakdown, we’ll provide your cover, move.” Taking a knee, Hound shifts his gun back to its typical hiding place before putting on its barrel attachment, bracing briefly as the shot changes from a bang to a boom, stock folding easily to his shoulder, “I didn’t know your gun could do that, did you know his gun could do that?” Sideswipe shouts at Sunstreaker, grabbing his shoulder and pointing, “Yes, now go be cannon fodder.” His brother shoves him towards the enemy fire.

Breakdown was the slowest of them all, his suit the oldest and the heaviest, it wasn’t even that large either. Not quite like the first generation suits. His shoulder cannon slide back across his back when he began to run, if it went off while he was moving it was likely to blow the shoulder of his suit apart. With the farthest distance to travel, he was the easiest target as the ground near his feet is peppered with explosions, “Some cover you all are.” His voice carried a bit, getting a rude gesture from Sunstreaker in return while his blades cut through another gun which folded from the ground, “This is a battle field of a million guns Breakdown, just get to cover.” Hound’s gun boomed in the distance, just out of Breakdown’s visual feeds radius. Grunting with effort, Breakdown pushes his suit to its top movement speed, eventually slamming through the wall of the warehouse.

—

The warehouse was full of conduits and energy storage, something typical for the coast of the rust sea, but entirely foreign for anyone who didn’t frequent the energy region on Cybertron.

—

Crashing onto the floor, Breakdown retreats to one of the far walls, trying to catch his breath as his cannon shifts back to his shoulder and hums back to life, “I’m in, building secure.”

Hound was still laying down covering fire, seeing multiple explosions through the haze and gloom that was lifting, he looks over his shoulder, “Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, go next and prepare for movement into the, uh, town.” They both nodded and took off together, watching each others back. It left him alone in the solar panel field, which was taken down to rubble by the assault. Breathing heavily, Hound scans the distance again, before accepting the odds and getting up, sprinting for the warehouse.

—

Each of them fell into the building, the slight dip in the floor enough to throw them off, and crash to the floor in one way or another.

Sunstreaker landed on top of Sideswipe, the pink fluid splashing across his red paint from the yellow and Hound crashed into the far wall after them. Breakdown’s cannon continued to hum ominously. Sideswipe tossed his brother off of him with ease but stayed on the ground, catching his breath, “So, does everything in the universe want to kill us?” Sunstreaker hits Sideswipe over the head, “Can it. Hound, what do we do? We can’t go into a potentially inhabited area and just blow it up.” Back to the mission, always the mission, “If these things are smart enough to make suits, then they probably have a society, which means-“ “Innocent lives, I know Sunstreaker.” Hound was rubbing his face, gun resting in his lap now, “If we go back out there they’ll keep shooting at us even if we head back for the Odyssey.” “And she’s stuck on this planet regardless.” Sideswipe sits up, holding his chin, “So we’re stuck regardless.” His insight was not helpful.

They sat in silence for a minute, staring at each other and thinking, “We’ll have to go out there, we’re dead in here especially if we can’t get supplies from the Odyssey.” Hound shifted to sit back up, still rubbing at his face, a nervous habit he’d grown into, “Otherwise we’re just sitting ducks.” A pause before, “I don’t know that one.” Breakdown almost sounded sad, it was hard being the only guy without English as a first language in a group, especially one on a foreign planet who knows how far from home.

“What are we going to do or even say when we get out there?” Sunstreaker threw his hands up, entirely overwhelmed, “I don’t know, take me to your leader?” Breakdown chuckled even as Sunstreaker facepalmed. Sideswipe high fives Breakdown, grinning, “There we go, you got one in old man.” Even as they chuckled, there was a light bit of static coming in over comms. Hound glanced up, then around at the slight change, even as the others kept talking the logistics of, invading an alien planet literally. Though references to movies were entirely frequent in the conversation. Hound’s visual feeds switched back over to scan all available view types, frowning at the lack of signatures nearby.

Minutes ticked by, while Sideswipe settled into eating a protein bar as Sunstreaker and Breakdown talked the logistics, Hound was staring intently in one direction, “Someone’s listening to us, or watching us, maybe both.” His voice was low and off comms, just coming out his external speakers at a low volume. Sideswipe started to choke on his food, “You can’t be serious, we just got out of that fight, we can’t get into another one.” Sunstreaker was quick to smack him and motion to be quiet. Then they all could hear the added static, “There it is.” Sunstreaker paused before looking to Hound, “Do we want them to take us to their leader?” It wasn’t a joke now though, Hound held up a hand and activated his comm again, “We don’t want a fight. Just answers.” He waited as the static lowered in volume.

—

There was a rushing of sound over their comms system, Hound winces, the twins shouted, and Breakdown swore before a voice cued on, “English?” It was very monotone and not even remotely human like, certainly didn’t sound like someone who actually spoke English, Hound held up a hand for quiet before speaking into his own microphone, “Maybe, whose asking?” There was another long delay, followed by a quieter burst of static, then, “Prowl.” Hound kept his hand raised to keep the crew of Arcturus One quiet, “Well, uh, Prowl. How do you know English?” This time there was almost no delay or burst of static, “Jazz.” Then line went dead.

———

A/N

I know, I’m sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger, it was either do that or not get this posted till much later than I wanted. I wanted this out easier but the day before thanksgiving is always crazy around my place.

I hope to have another part out to you guys tomorrow, but we’ll see, I didn’t get much done for my LSAT studying today so I might have to recoup the time unfortunately.

To all the lovely people who have been re-blogging, commenting, etc on my posts, thank you so much. It’s meant so much to me to see people enjoying it so much.

Tags!

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces

I never thought in a million years I would be writing like this, it’s actually insane. Thank you all so much.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

So Witches We Became

YA horror

a girl and her friends go on vacation to a house on a private Florida island, but when a strange mist and toxic tar surrounds them, trapping them there, they have to find a way to survive and/or escape

while she’s being haunted by a traumatic experience with her friend’s boyfriend - who just showed up - that she’s been unable to tell anyone about, and by a shadow from her childhood that she fears might have something to do with what’s happening

sapphic, explores complicated friendships, and surviving assault

[rhysazriel]

Only Angel [Mafia!Azriel]

SUMMARY: Azriel's a dangerous Mafia leader, Y/N is his favourite dancer at his strip club. His usual Friday night dance turns into something a little more. (6.2k)

WARNINGS: mentions of the mafia and illegal activities, kissing, teasing, swearing, smut; dirty talk, sexual intercourse, spanking, fingering, lap dance.

A/N: This is a rewrite of a very old fic from an old fandom I was in. I’ve edited it the best I can to fit around Azriel’s character, so I apologise in advance if anything appears out of place :) 

Azriel owns a lot of businesses. From stores to hotels, to apartments to clubs. To many, he's a man of business, a man of money. To those aware of the world around them, he's a man of the mafia. Powerful and dangerous. Maybe that's what caught her eye all that time ago, the mysterious aura that bubbled around him.

Y/N's been a dancer at his club since it opened three years ago. It started as a joke between her friends. She was fresh in college and desperately needed a part-time job to pay her bills after she was laid off from the bakery she'd been working at. Callie had mentioned a new strip joint opening on the outskirts of Prythian, that it was a more underground, elite sort of club.

Y/N had laughed it off, joking that she'd look into it and then didn't think of it anymore. But after two weeks of job hunting and no luck, she found herself bumping into a group of young women in a restroom at a bar, and somehow snagged herself an interview at said club.

Eria Vanserra, manager of the club, had hired her the second she opened her mouth and her pretty little voice spoke her name. Y/N was attractive, there was absolutely no doubt in that. She had that look of pure innocence in her eyes, but her lips were wicked. 

The girls had trained her up, taught her the basics on the pole. She's grown close to them, thinks of them as her sisters more than colleagues. They're a team, have each other's backs when new customers try to take advantage and hype each other up for when the regular 60-year-olds come in and request private sessions. 

Y/N -- or rather Angel -- only offers private sessions for one customer: The Boss. They met just over a year into her employment, and it was on their first greeting that Azriel took an instant liking to the devilish dancer, and she took the same approach with him. 

Y/N's been teased for it relentlessly; snickers made from a few of the girls that didn't like how much Azriel liked her, but she didn't care then, and she doesn't care now. Not when every other Friday night, he has her booked for an intimate performance in the back room -- the room that's only ever reserved by him. 

It's been a long week. Classes were cancelled due to some ongoing investigation with one of Y/N's professors, and so she's been able to pick up shifts every night at the club. Shadow's is an elite place, and Y/N knows it. It's a home for the best dancers and the richest of men that sneak off to get their fix. 

It's not a brothel -- at least, not primarily. And none of the girls is ever forced into anything they don't want to do. That's one of the first things Eris made very clear. 

You're here to dance. Private sessions are your own choice, and anything that goes on behind closed curtains is your decision. If you want to offer extra services, the club doesn't touch that money.

Y/N's never been one to stray from the pole. She knows her strengths, and she knows her weaknesses. She's strong, it's obvious, but even the strongest of dancers find it unsettling to be behind a closed curtain with a strange man that clearly can't get much outside of what his money can buy.

The thought unsettles her, but she's never let her own discomfort project on the other girls that spend hours in private rooms with a different man every twenty minutes. They're the real talent, she thinks. Inspiring and badass, and Y/N wishes she had that extra ounce of confidence that they do.

Or at least, she used to wish so. Before she met Azriel -- before he started watching her whenever he stopped by. For two years, she's the only dancer his honey eyes have watched, and something about that knowledge gives Y/N all the confidence she thinks she'll ever need.

Because she's the one that gets under the mafia leaders' skin. His eyes are always on Y/N. She's the one that occupies his mind and tightens his pants from her presence on the pole. It wasn't until almost five months ago that Azriel made a move to ask for a private dance. 

He's done it before, many times. He's had his dick sucked more than he can remember behind those red curtains, but never by a woman as captivating and as talented as her -- his Angel. 

Azriel still remembers the first time he laid eyes on her, upon that risen stage with soft lights offering a halo effect on her silhouette. He saw her hips first, her long legs as she wrapped them around the poll and jutted her ass out deliciously. Then he saw her face -- those angelic eyes and sinful lips, and he knew he was fucked.

He remembers pulling Eris to the side, eyes still on her as he asked who the fuck she was, and why someone so beautiful was working for him. Remembers the way Eris told him her stage name, how it had his cock springing to life in appreciation for the way she moved. 

It all seems like a lifetime ago when he thinks back to it. And while there have been plenty of Friday nights that he frequents the club, he's yet to take things outside of the red room. 

And it's not that he doesn't want to, because he does -- more than he wants a lot of things. But Azriel is a man of honour (even in his line of work), and he's never been one to pressure a woman into something he wants. 

But Angel isn't like any woman. Not to him. 

Azriel deems she's by far the most precious thing he's ever laid eyes on, and he has a need to hold and protect her and show her just how a woman like herself deserves to be treated. 

He could give her the world, and they both know it. 

Tonight is like every other late Friday evening. Y/N's dolled up to the nines as she reapplies her lipstick. She's been at the club since seven, and three dances later and a round of waitressing, it's nearing midnight. Y/N's ready to go to bed. 

She's ready to call it a night, to tell Eris she's heading out early after picking up so many shifts in the week. Not only because she's tired, but also, Azriel hasn't shown up yet, and he's never come this late before. 

Just as Y/N is adjusting her bra straps, she sees Mor’s head pop out through the corner of the door through the mirror. The blonde has a wide grin on her face, and she knows exactly what that suggests. 

"He's here."

Y/N rolls her eyes. "He's also late. My shift ends in ten minutes."

Mor pouts out her lips, shaking her head, and her breasts bounce slightly on her covered chest. "But he's asking for you. And stop pretending like it's such a burden. You love when he shows up, and he loves when you dance for him. We all know it. Quit acting like you don't secretly enjoy it." She bites back, stomping her foot to make her point and Y/N spins in her chair to look at her full on.

Mor raises her brows. "All the other girls would kill to dance for him, to have him ask for them. Myself included. Stop acting like a brat and put on a fucking show."

Y/N isn't given a chance to reply because Mor is sauntering out of the dressing room, and she's left alone to swiftly get ready. She pretends to ignore the rampaging butterflies in her stomach at the idea of seeing him again. 

She's never scared, could never be. Y/N knows Azriel would never hurt her. But, she's nervous. Azriel always gives Y/N his undivided attention when she's dancing for him, and it's intimidating and exciting all at once. His eyes are so dark and calculated, and he's always so damn respectful when she sits on his lap­ -- never wanting to make her uncomfortable. 

Sometimes, Y/N just wants him to take charge. Even knowing exactly what he's capable of, she wants him to take her. Ravish her. Have his way with her. She wants him to completely dominate her, and often, Y/N finds herself wondering what would happen if she riled him up enough to get him to that state. 

If she acted like a brat, would he throw her over his lap and spank her?

If she talked back, would he pull her hair or spit in her mouth?

If she asked for him to touch her, would he grip her ass and kiss her neck?

Y/N's mind swirls with the unanswered questions every time she sees him, and it's getting a bit much to keep to herself. She's getting tired of being a little plaything to him –- not that she has the right to be upset, but she is. 

She doesn't like that he only comes to her every Friday night. To the club. Is she not worth more than two hours a week? 

Then spirals the anxiety.

Is he only coming to her because he thinks she's easy? Is he doing it because he knows he'll never have to do anything more than let her dance? Is he doing it out of pity? Because he thinks she's lonely, so it's to make her feel special? 

Is Azriel even attracted to her, or does he just do it for shits and giggles? Does he go back to his brothers and his men and laugh about her? At her? Is it all a bit of fun to him?

Y/N gets too in her head, and then the idea of seeing him again is revolting. She doesn't know him -- she can't say whether her thoughts are crazy or valid. She doesn't know the kind of person he really is -- despite the rumours. 

But though she goes through these motions, Y/N pushes them to the back of her head and gets on with it. She puts on her smile, and she dances. 

Azriel tends to book her out for an hour at a time, sometimes two hours if he's feeling extra needy or he has the time. And he's generous with his money, too. Typically, he pays double for her time, which is a month's rent for Y/N but pocket change for him.

It makes her feel dirty, but she has to remind herself that actually, this is her job and he does have the money and means to pay for her time.

That's all he's doing -- paying for her time. For her. Like some sort of cheap and easy prostitute that he can go to whenever he needs a fix. And she never touches him (not under his clothes), but it still makes her feel dirty.

Y/N knows what the other girls do in the private rooms; the type of shows that they offer. She doesn't judge them, she could never. They're all in the same or similar boats: broke and trying to make a living, to make ends meet. But none of them dance for the owner. None of them are ever requested by him. 

Y/N takes a deep breath and composes herself. She can't look in the mirror for a moment longer because if she does, she'll start seeing every flaw she has, and she'll never leave the damn dressing room. 

The club is busy, it always is on a Friday night. There's a party in the upper left tier, a few dancers that have been hired for the night and Y/N is more than pleased that she wasn't booked for it. It's a bunch of frat boys celebrating one of their friend's birthdays, and from Y/N's place on the lower deck, she can already recognise a few familiar faces from her classes.

The last thing she needs is for people to know she's an erotic dancer at one of the most elite, secret clubs. 

She doesn't bother questioning how the younger men know about the place. 

Y/N makes her way toward the private booths, and the one to the far right has its curtains closed. She takes a deep breath, knows he's sitting behind it, waiting for her.

She doesn't give herself any time to hype herself up or change her mind, because she's pushing through the red velvet curtain and closing it behind her. 

The booths are all the same. Dim lighting and velvet cushioned seats. The walls are deep, silky pink, the furniture all an intoxicating shade of red, and in the centre of the rounded chair, Azriel sits. 

His legs are spread wide, dressed to the nines in a slick black suit, and his bulging arms are outstretched across the back of the chair. 

He's shed his blazer, has it hanging on the side, his shirt sleeves folded up to his elbows, swirls of black ink coating his dark complexion. Everything about his attire screams power and sex, and Y/N hasn't even looked at his face yet. 

"There’s my pretty girl."

Her eyes dart up, his lips are parted. There's a knowing smirk on his pink mouth, and Azriel's eyes are a glimmering caramel under the dim light. Y/N thinks he's never looked more handsome, but that's always her thought whenever she sees him.

She can't help the contagiously shy smile that tugs on the corners of her plump lips. 

"Little late tonight," she mentions quietly. 

He doesn't say anything, and his eyes are too busy taking in her appearance. He hasn't seen this outfit before; a lilac cami bodysuit, entirely of lace. The chest of it is plunged yet lifted, and her supple breasts look the most inviting they've ever been.

Azriel struggles to wrap his head around the sight of her -- he always does. Always thinks she looks even prettier every time he sees her.

Azriel finally shrugs his shoulders. "I'm a busy man, Angel. Thought you knew that by now." He doesn't take his eyes off her, he can't.

Completely fucking mesmerised.

Y/N shrugs. "Must've been extra busy to be this late." She tells him.

Y/N is making her way closer, her hips swaying with every small step and Azriel's sure he can feel his cock twitch in his pants from anticipation.

"I was starting to think you weren't going to come."

He raises a brow as she settles herself in his lap, his scarred hands–that she’s never shown any distaste to–slowly yet respectfully finding her waist.

"Oh, I always come, baby."

She knows there's a double meaning to his statement — can tell by the smirk on his lips and the tone of his voice. Always a smooth talker.

Y/N decides that if he can play, so can she. 

"I wouldn't know."

Azriel's the one to stop her hips from moving on top of his, and he chases her gaze to lock eyes. She's deadpanning -- void of emotion on her pretty little face and Azriel thinks this newfound side of her is the sexiest thing he's witnessed in a long time.

He cocks a brow. "Playing like that tonight, are we?" He asks, his thumbs pressing into the fleshy skin of her side.

Y/N shrugs her shoulders, plays coy. "I don't know. Are we?"

She twists the question, unsure where this surge of confidence is coming from, but she isn't about to back down from it, from him.

She wants more than just a lap dance. She thinks Azriel does too.

Azriel stays quiet for a moment or two like he's toying with the idea of having his way with her -- of letting her have him.

He squints and tries to look for an ounce of uncertainty or hesitancy. He comes empty, finding nothing short of confidence and desire. But has she thought it all through?

Has she thought about what this could mean? Has she accepted the fact that they may never see each other again -- something so silly because Azriel quite likes the girl, but if he kisses her, touches her -- what if it inherently puts her in danger?

She senses his dismay and offers an ultimatum; one that she knows she'll win. 

"Because either we are, or you need to find a new dancer."  

The threat awakens something in him. Something primal — animalistic. His eyes flash, darker and darker until his swelling pupils almost completely drown out the honey in his eyes.

His grip on her hips tighten, and Azriel forces her closer; lace-clad chest bumping against his clothed one. "I don't want a new dancer." He tells her. His voice is firm, tone even and stable. He knows what he wants, and now, she knows it's her.

Y/N lets her fingers reach for the longer curls on the nape of his neck. She intertwines her fingers around them, generously tugging, so his head pulls back just enough for her to use her other hand to grip his chin. Azriel's lips are parted, eyes hooded. He can feel her breath fan across his face as she brings hers closer.

"But that's all I am to you, right? Just a dancer?"

He isn't sure what she's doing -- whether she's fishing for something more or if she's about to walk out of the booth and leave him panting and painfully hard.

He plays into it, though. Let's see where this is going.

"More than just a dancer, baby." He promises.

Y/N ghosts her plump lips over his. "Yeah?" She breathes, her voice an airy whisper and Azriels got the perfect fucking sight of her cleavage. Reckons he wants nothing more than to bury his face between her pert tits.

He nods. "Mhm, you're my Angel." He tells her.

Azriel's hands reach around for her ass, grabbing handfuls and pulling her cheeks taut. He removes his hand and strikes it back down on her warm, fleshy skin. Y/N jolts into his body, teeth gnawing painfully on her lower lip to bite back her desperate pleads and whines.

Azriel gropes her again, massaging her cheeks and grabbing fistfuls. "My Angel."

His. She's all fucking his.

Her breathing is laboured as she takes in his words. Y/N tries not to let him see how riled up they make her, but she knows Azriel can see straight through any facade she tries to hide behind.

"Well, if I'm an angel, that must make you the devil."

Y/N's words echo through his mind, and his grip on her waist tightens in a squeeze before it loosens. His eyes find her chest, lip taut between his teeth.

"Maybe I am. Tell me, Angel… are you really ready to be corrupted?"

His eyes find hers, low and hooded and full of so much excitement and darkness, he gets lost in the way she pulls him in. Y/N's hands find his on her waist, her fingers gripping over his and his hold tightens again.

She rolls her hips against his crotch. "Maybe that's exactly what I want," she whispers, her lips trailing over the shell of his ear and her warm breath fans across his neck. "Maybe I'm already a little wicked."

She pulls away, nose brushing past his but he doesn't let her put any more distance between them. He wants her close, likes the feel of her warm breath on his face, likes the sweet scent of vanilla and coconut that's splattered on her skin and lingers in his mind.

Her lips are parted, as is Azriel's, and he can see the little peek of her glistening tongue, teetering between her teeth. His own does the same, subconsciously matching her teasing and his length throbs beneath her; something they both feel but neither say.

"If we do this, there's no going back. You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N's heart skips, her heat quivering and chills run down her spine. So she is more to him... but what will this mean after?

"If I'm not just a fuck, then what am I?" She pries.

Azriel nudges the tip of his nose with hers. A smirk ghosts on the corners of her lips as they brush against hers. "My Angel," he whispers. "My only Angel."

Y/N envelopes Azriel's lips in hers, fingers reaching for the back of his head and they tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. It's hot, fiery. She can feel her soul ignite in bursts of white flames, and Azriel's no better at controlling himself.

His mind is foggy, judgement clouded, but he knows he never wants to live a day without feeling her pillowy lips on his. So he kisses her harder, grips her hips with such force they both know she'll bruise by morning. But she loves it, loves the idea of having him mark her and the animalistic part of Azriel craves it too.

"I'm not gonna go easy on you." He warns her breathlessly through the smacking of lips, but Y/N rolls more rigid atop him; pulls his hair that little bit eager.

"Good," she pants, pulling away. "I want it hard."

Y/N stands between his thick, parted thighs. She lets her mouth water as her gaze takes him in. Azriel's no better. His cock is leaping eagerly in his pants at the sight of her. Perfect body in a perfect set, lips swollen and eyes wholly fucked. Her hair is a mess, lipstick smudged and fuck, does he want to shove her face into his silk pillows and ram her little pussy from behind until she can't breathe.

"You're gonna kill me, Angel." He chokes out through his lust-filled daydream, chest heaving in anticipation.

Then she starts to sink to her knees and rubs her palms up his inner thighs, and Azriel about loses it. He shakes his head, breathing hard through gritted teeth and his hands find her wrists, halting her movements.

He shakes his head as he pulls Y/N to her feet, dragging closer until she's straddling him again. Azriel's hands cup her jaw, fingers tangled in her hair. "Gonna take my time with you, have you squirming beneath me until you beg me to stop." His promise has her drooping eyes flutter close, and her lips parting. Thinks she's the sexiest thing he's ever laid eyes on.

His nose bumps hers, lips touching but they don't kiss. "But right now, I need you to be a good girl and turn around." 

Azriel's voice is stern, commanding. It makes her pussy throb and clench and gush, and he knows it. She nods and moves on trembling legs, turning so her back is to him, and Azriel's hands find their home on the swell of her ass.

There's something about him being so strong and dominant to her that has Y/N a puddle of arousal and submission.

She bites back a squeak as he smacks a palm down on her cheek, her eyes squinted closed while Azriel licks his lips at the way her flesh moves with the force of his strike. "Perfect fucking ass."

Y/N gnaws on her bottom lip, teeth piercing the skin but the slight sting of pain only spurs her on -- makes her even more eager for him. She sways her hips, ass a perfect peach shape as she does so and Azriel grips her hips and forces her on his crotch.

Her arousal is sticky against the lace of her panties as she can feel the thick outline of Azriel's cock when she gets seated over his clothed centre.

"Holy shit," she gulps.

Y/N has heard the rumours, the ones that are whispered in the shadows of the night -- of the one that's half man, half something else.

Now she can feel him directly beneath her, and Y/N's mind is heavy and clouded. "Feel how hard you make me?"

His lips are ghosting across her ear; teeth nibbling hauntingly on the shell of it which sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N nods, breathless and wanton. She can't make sense of anything, but she knows she wants this -- needs this.

"Use your words."

She swallows, shaky whimper teetering on the tip of her tongue. "Yes, I can feel you."

Azriel's sick behind her; full of himself as she strokes his ever-growing ego. There's something about hearing her so vocally express how much she wants him, how much she can feel him that has Azriel seeing stars. He isn't blind, he can see just how desperate and hungry the woman is, but a little verbal confirmation never hurt anyone.

His hands rest upon the globes of her ass again, swatting and smoothing however he pleases. The hits have her jolting and shrieking — they have tears stinging at her eyes but fuck, she wants more. She needs it harder.

"Please," she coos softly.

Her voice is cracking and unsteady like she's walking on eggshells.

"Please." Azriel mimics, voice high and childish, one that has her squirming in his lap.

He spanks her again. "Please, what?"

There's a pause of silence as Y/N attempts to catch her breath. She knows what this man can do to her, how he can make her feel. She knows he'll be far from vanilla, and maybe that's exactly what she wants and needs.

"Please, sir." She breathes. "Fuck me."

Smack!

A shrill shriek tears through her chest, and Azriel strikes his palm back down on her skin. His other busies with his belt, tugging it open and popping the button of his pants. He drags down the zip, a sound that echoes through her ears and sends shivers down her spine.

Y/N looks back over her shoulder, her hands steadying herself on Azriel's parted knees when she sees him. Thick, long... oozing with his sweet arousal that she wants to suckle up and swallow down her throat.

His cock stands tall, smacking against his lower stomach and he's big -- better than anything Y/N's ever had before. Her mouth waters at the sight. She can feel her cunt pulsing when his scarred hand wraps around his length and tugs deliciously at himself.

She whines, eager and needy. Azriel's eyes are on her ass, hasn't even realised that she's looking back at him.

He toys with the lace of her panties that disappears between her cheeks. Looping his pointer finger under the fabric at the top of her ass, he lifts it and bunches the lace in a fist, effectively tugging friction across her cunt as he gets a better view of her ass.

She's glistening, he can see. Y/N's pussy is swollen, and the sides of her lips threaten to spill out of the fabric that barely covers her.

"I'll fuck you, baby." He tells her.

Azriel tugs the lace to the side, her pussy soaked and perfect. He swipes a thumb through her wetness, swirling around her tight hole and bringing his thumb to his mouth as he suckles her arousal.

Sweet. So fucking sweet.

He grasps his cock in his hand again, pumping a few ample times before holding himself at the base and lining up with her sopping cunt. Azriel teases her for a moment, smacking the ruddy head of his prick against her pussy and she whines, rolls closer to him.

With a sick grin, Azriel massages his tip against her hole, jutting softly as he pushes in just enough to get comfortable. A low whine echoes through the room, but neither of them knows who it belongs to.

His hands find her hips, squeezing at her flesh. "But you won't be dancing on that pole for a few days."

Lifting his hips and pulling her down by hers, Azriel sheathes into her at once. Her frantic gasp tears through her lips, and her eyes are wide and watering with complete bliss and pain.

Azriel's gritting his teeth, sharp breath spitting through between them. He can't believe how fucking tight she is, and Y/N is fairly confident she can feel him so deep in her fucking stomach.

"Such a tight fucking cunt, Angel." Azriel's mind is in turmoil, can't quite fucking believe a cunt can feel this good.

Y/N is no better; she's a quivering mess on top of him, her grip on his clothed knees surely carving half-moons upon his skin but if it's causing Azriel any pain or discomfort, he seems to love it.

"So big, feel so full," she whines out.

Her ass is nestled in his lap, the coarse hairs of his pubic bone tickling at her supple skin and Y/N rolls her hips experimentally against his. He's still gripping her hips as she moves, her cunt clenching deliciously around his length and he's positively amazed by just how fucking tight she is.

"Yeah? Feel me in your tummy, Angel?" 

She's nodding, whining filthily, and she can't comprehend how sex can feel this good. One hand of Azriel's snakes around her body, tips of his fore and middle finger massaging tight circles on her clit.

Y/N's cunt is on fire, swelling and pulsing and fucking gushing all over the thickness of Azriel's entire dick. He's a mess below her, though. He can't believe how well she's taking the entirety of him.

She's snug, tight — warm and fucking soaked. The feeling of her swallowing him up is completely euphoric; has Azriel's eyes rolling to the back of his head.

His rhythm on her clit is furious; strong, tight circles that have filthy cries and moans slipping past her flawlessly painted lips. Y/N's still gripping his knees, hips rolling and pussy squelching.

"Yeah, right in my tummy. God, it's so good. Don't stop, Azzy... please don't stop."

Y/N is a blubbering mess, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack. She bounces quickly on top of him, feeling every vein and ridge of his thick cock as it pounds into her and tears her apart. Her walls are slick around him, desperate to milk him dry and take his sticky cum.

Azriel lets his eyes focus on her ass, the way it's spread just a little and how the imprint of his ringed hands are starting to bloom on her supple cheeks. Azriel's eyes divert lower when he sees it, sees her take him.

Her lips are swollen, clinging to his length as she comes off him. The base of his cock is soaked, the start of a creamy ring forming around him and Azriel can't get enough. He relents his assault on her clit, makes for her ass instead and pulls her cheeks as far apart as he can. 

His hands massage her skin, saliva welling on his tongue and parting his gritted teeth for a split second, he spits down on her puckering hole and rubs the lubricant across her ass.

Y/N keens at the touch -- the welcomed intrusion -- and bounces faster. Azriel's thumbing at her hole, teasingly rubbing the tip of his thumb around her but it has her a quivering and desperate mess.

"Please, please." She pants out, head falling back and eyes tightly shut.

Azriel gnaws on his lower lip, biting back a smirk, but his hooded eyes are a dead giveaway he's having the time of his life. "Yeah?" He rasps. "Want me in both your holes, Princess?" He baits. He knows it's exactly what she wants.

Y/N nods quickly, crying and pleading for something. He knows precisely the effect he's got on her right now, the power Azriel holds over her, (not that he sees it that way, but knowing she's in such a besotted state from him playing with her ass a little, is feeding Azriel's ego tremendously.)

"Now that's not very Angel-like of you, is it? Angel?"

A shriek leaves her lips as the tip of his finger pushes through, immediately enveloped in warmth and softness. She's blubbering, can't make sense of fucking anything and it feels so damn good.

Azriel never anticipated such a reaction from her, but he's got it, and he fucking loves it.

"Who would've thought," he pants, feet firm on the ground as he fucks up into her cunt, completely obliterating her soul, "that my Angel likes having her sweet little ass stuffed?"

A borderline pornographic cry teeters past her silky tongue, and Azriel's mind is keening. She's still as she hovers over his crotch, letting him fuck her however he damn well pleases. His pace is fast, cock brushing every overwhelming part it reaches as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass.

"Your Angel," she whimpers out, eyes watering and thighs spasming. "I'm yours, all yours. Only want you stuffing me this good."

Her words are drawled in a matted string of barely comprehendible syllables, but Azriel can understand what she's saying.

"Yeah? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum, sweetheart."

"Cum! Please, cum in me, wanna feel it."

Azriel curses silently behind her, can't believe how fucking perfect this woman is. His balls feel tight, can feel her squeezing him harder and he knows she's about to come too.

"Yeah? It's gonna be a lot baby," he warns. "Think you can handle it? Think you can take my cum, Angel?"

Y/N nods quickly, vigorously. "I can take it! Please, I promise."

She's despondent, like a child. The need in her voice spurs Azriel to his edge, and as his cock bloats and shoots his arousal across her walls, she reaches her own high of euphoria.

They're both panting, grunting and moaning and whining. Y/N's gushing around his cock, creating a decent spillage on the base of him but even as he softens, he's still quite hard.

Azriel doesn't move, no. He makes no endeavour of pushing her off him. Instead, Azriel slowly pulls his fingers from her ass and cooing at the winces and whimpers that resound through the private booth. He shelters his arms around her waist to pull her back flush to his chest.

They both whimper, bodies spent, and eyes hooded. The back of Y/N's head is lounging on his shoulder when Azriel finally gets a glimpse at her face.

Totally fucked.

A wheezing laugh rumbles deep in her chest, and he reaches for her face, cupping the side of her jaw and guiding her lips to meet his in a messy, wet kiss. She pulses around him.

"You're fucking phenomenal."

Another breathy snicker falls past her lips to his. Azriel pinches her hips. "How are you feeling?"

Y/N puffs, eyes fluttering as she slowly raises, bites back the whine she wants to pout at the hollow feeling of him slipping from her cunt.

"The big bad Mob boss wants to know how I'm feeling?" She tantalises.

Azriel watches her make quick work of pulling her panties back over her cunt, halting his cum from leaking out and down her thighs, but he makes no effort to tuck his softening, yet still majestic, length back in his pants.

He lies back with his arms outstretched across the back of the oval couch. "He does," he agrees. "Cares about you, if you didn't already recognise that."

Azriel doesn't miss how she shies away from his gaze, turning her back to him to alter her outfit and to take a moment to compose herself. He takes the opportunity to fix himself too, before he's right behind her, nosing at her hair.

"I meant what I said, Angel," he murmurs. "You're not just a fuck to me."

Y/N turns, chin raised as she eyes him. Her shoulders are strained back, and Azriel knows she's making this posture move to assert confidence, and he doesn't doubt her one bit.

"Then what am I? And don't say your Angel."

"You're a strong, elegant, smart, badass, sexy, intelligent, confident woman," he begins, his hands finding her hips. "And I want you. I want you all to myself."

She peeps, her heart thumping sporadically in her chest. For a moment, it's like the mind-blowing sex from just seconds ago has been utterly omitted.

"You trust me enough for that?" She asks, and Azriel knows precisely what she's asking.

Does he trust her with who he is and what he does? Does he have trust that she will keep her mouth shut and not see him differently when she learns what he's truly capable of? Does he trust that she's all about him?

Azriel quirks a brow. "Do you trust me?"

Does she trust him with her life, because that's what it boils down to? Does she trust him enough to put her life in perpetual danger? Does she trust that he will only desire her, that he will put her before his work? Does she trust that he will never harm her?

Y/N nods. "I trust you."

Azriel drops his head, face closer to hers and the tips of their noses brush.

"Then I advise you to get your things and let me take you back to my place. Because you're in for a long fucking night, Angel."

Thank you for reading!! If you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a reblog and leaving some feedback!! <3

[smileysuh]

real talk

🌙 starring. Mark Lee x afab!Reader

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

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

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 19.4k

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

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

One:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is he?” Mark also dips his head toward the expo window, eager for a look.

“Yeah, mans just slipped her his number,” Hyuck laughs. “That’s our little Sunshine though, isn’t it? This restaurant is her playground.”

“What do you mean?” Mark asks.

“Just that she’s quite popular,” Hyuck brushes it off as you approach the expo line again. “Did you get a number, sweet thing?”

“Why, you jealous?” You grin, holding up the slip of paper with digits on it. 

“You wish,” Hyuck scoffs, but Mark gets the feeling there’s something else going on between the two of you, something unspoken. He’s still getting used to the dynamic of the restaurant, and in work spaces like this, relationships aren’t uncommon. He wonders what history you have with Hyuck, wonders what chance he has with you- wonders if it’s even a good idea.

Two

“Luna never runs her own food,” Sumi notes, standing with you by the entrance to the restaurant while you watch the tall waitress lean against the expo window. “I know that our new chef is cute, but, damn.”

“She can do what she wants,” you laugh, wiping down menus. “Makes my job easier.”

“You know, it’s kind of felt like you and Mark have some sort of understanding,” Sumi grins, moving close enough that your hips touch by the host station. “He watches you a lot.”

“Does he?” Your gaze moves back to the expo line.

“Uh huh, almost as much as Hyuck does- which, by the way, you sure did a number on him.”

“Hyuck will get over it, he’s a fuck boy,” you wave your hand. “I’m great at attracting that kind of guy.”

“Do you get fuck boy vibes from Mark?” Sumi wonders, tapping her pen against the top of her Ipad thoughtfully.

“He’s definitely cute enough to be a womanizer, don’t you think?”

“Key word being cute,” Sumi points out. “I don’t know, he doesn't give me fuck boy vibes like the other line chefs do.”

“Well, he’s roommates with Jeno, isn’t he?” Your eyes move to the bar. Jeno’s a night bartender, but his close friend, Renjun is working today. “Jeno’s a fuck boy, he got Hyuck and Jaemin jobs here. They’re both fuck boys. It would make sense if Mark was that kind of guy too.”

“I’m still not convinced,” Sumi states, crossing an arm over her chest. “Speaking of men though- whatever happened to that guy who gave you his number the other day? Are you actually considering a date with him?”

“I already had a date with him,” you admit. 

“Yikes, from the way you haven’t mentioned it at all, I’d guess it didn’t go so well?”

“Meh,” you shrug your shoulders. “He won’t be getting a second date.”

“How many first dates have you been on this year?” Sumi asks. “Didn’t you say it was like… a lot?”

“Too many to count,” you giggle. 

“So what’s the deal with that? Like- what’s your type? I know you were seeing Hyuck for a little while, how come that didn’t work?”

“It just didn’t,” you say, looking down at the menus you’ve wiped clean. “I try not to think about my failures too much.”

“Really? But you could learn so much from them,” Sumi frowns. “I mean- look at me and Doyoung. I was never into the more serious types, always went for fuck boys and younger guys- but after some soul searching, I realized I needed someone older who had their shit together.”

“You also have a thing for guys in powerful positions, and Doyoung is literally one of our managers,” you point out.

“Well, I’m still a work in progress,” Sumi winks. “Anyways- think about it. If you look at your dating patterns, you might be surprised by what you find.”

Three

There’s nothing like the air outside after being in a hot kitchen for a few hours. The lunch rush is finally over, and after having a 20 top that ordered an insane amount of food with an even crazier amount of modifications and allergies, Mark is ready to take a massive puff from his vape pen.

He stands by the back exit to the restaurant, looking out at the cars on the street as he takes a long drag. As he inhales, the door behind Mark opens, and he turns to come face-to-face with you.

The shock of seeing you makes him choke a little, and he begins to cough out a large puff of smoke. Mark’s lungs burn, and his skin feels even hotter, enflamed by the embarrassment of you seeing him take a crappy hit when in reality, he’s a vaping veteran. 

“You good?” you ask, reaching out and gently rubbing his back as you step past him.

“Yeah, I, uh-” Mark’s entire body tingles at the physical contact. “Sorry, you just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you grin, stopping in front of him. He notices the way your eyes go to his vape pen, and he immediately holds it out to you.

“Want some?”

“I mean, if you’re offering.” You reach out and accept the sleek black vape. “What’s the flavor?”

“Uh… cotton candy?” God, Mark feels like a fool, especially when you raise a brow at him. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“Didn’t peg you as a sweet tooth type,” you grin, bringing the refillable device to your lips. Mark watches you take a drag, focusing on your mouth and the way you look sucking on something- he starts to imagine what you’d look like sucking on something else, something substantially bigger. 

As you exhale, you cough a little, and Mark wonders if you’re doing that to make him feel better about his screw-up a moment ago- or maybe you simply don’t vape often, he’s not too sure. 

“Thanks,” you say, still coughing as you hand the vape back to Mark. Your fingers brush gently as he accepts it from you, and as Mark brings the device to his mouth, he’s extremely aware of the fact that your lips had just been where his now are. 

He wonders if it means anything that you’d be so willing to swap spit like this, even on something as innocent as a vape pen. 

“How long are you here till?” you ask, breaking him from his daze. 

“Started at seven am, eight-hour shift, should be off around three when the night cross-over guys come in,” Mark explains. 

“Any fun plans for tonight?” you continue to press. “It is a Friday after all.”

“No plans, will probably just go home, make some food, and watch Netflix all night… what about you?”

You sigh. “No hot dates, unfortunately. Will probably do the same as you. Do you have any good show recommendations? I’ve been looking for something new.”

“I mean, it depends, what are you into?” Mark asks, eager to hear more about your tastes, your likes and dislikes- he knows so little about you, mostly things related to work. He’s curious about what you do in your downtime, and he’s grateful he has an opportunity like this to get to know you even a little bit better.

As you part your lips to respond, the back door swings open, and Hyuck steps out, already mid-puff of his neon orange vape. 

“Oh,” the line chef grins, exhaling through his nose and flashing a grin, “Am I interrupting something?”

“No,” you respond quickly, and Mark notes the shift in your energy, “I was just leaving actually.”

“See you later,” Mark offers, watching you hurry off. 

“Classic her,” Hyuck sighs, coming to stand next to Mark.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a runner, that one,” Hyuck takes another puff from his vape.

“So you two definitely used to date,” Mark states. The interaction he’s just witnessed verifies his suspicion, and since they’re technically outside of work/the kitchen, Mark feels able to actually discuss this now.

“I don’t know if I’d call it dating,” Hyuck cocks his head to the side, eyes still fixed on you where you’re crossing the street a couple hundred feet away. “Look, do you want real talk? You wanna know about your favorite expo girl?”

“Yeah, I wanna know.” Mark lifts his vape to his lips, readying himself for whatever is about to come out of Hyuck’s mouth.

“I know she looks like sugar and sunshine, but I hate to burst your bubble Mark- she’s a bit of a fuck girl, that one.” 

“It takes one to know one,” Mark points out.

“Touche, but to be fair, I never claimed to be anything other than a guy who likes pussy, and little miss sunshine knew that when we started hooking up a few months ago.” Hyuck lets out another large puff of smoke into the air. “Look, I said I’d give you real talk so here it is. She’s got a lot of expectations. Girl reads those horny romance books-”

“Erotica.”

“Yeah, that’s it, erotica.” Hyuck nods to himself. “Well, she reads erotica, and her ideas about fucking are kind of hard to make real. She’s too in her head all of the time. Apparently - and don’t repeat this anywhere - but apparently no guy she’s fucked has ever made her actually cum. She has this thing where someone told her that if a guy doesn’t make you cum, he doesn’t add to your body count, so allegedly her body count is zero and she’s a virgin, but we both know it’s a lot higher than that.” 

“The whole body count thing doesn’t phase me,” Mark says quietly, although the wheels in his head are spinning.

“Sure it doesn’t,” Hyuck scoffs. “Just listen, if you’re into her, it’s not going to work out. She’s not for beginners like you.”

“Beginners like me?” Mark side eyes the line chef.

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

Four

“Mark?” you ask, looking at the takeout bowl in front of you.

“Yeah?” he leans forward, lips parting as he waits for your judgment.

“Didn’t they order the spicy yogurt on the side?” You push the rice bowl forward, pointing at the lines of orange tinted cream that cover the veggies. 

“Shit,” Mark cusses, grabbing the chit-paper receipt and scanning it. “There were like, three other modifications, I didn’t even see the yogurt on the side.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “It’s takeout, and there’s pretty much no one in the restaurant, so you have time to make another… besides, I’ll just take this one as my lunch.”

One of the perks of the job is getting to take home the food that’s not correct. You’d been dreading going to the grocery store, your fridge empty of easy meals, but now you don’t have to make the trek, and you’re more than happy about it.

“You know, Mark, you’re my favorite new chef.” He’s also the only new chef, and you’ve been reaping the rewards of minor fuck ups the past two weeks. 

Mark, however, doesn’t seem to note your teasing, and he offers you a genuine smile. “You’re my favorite expo girl.”

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why’s that?”

“You’re really nice about things I mess up,” Mark’s eyes shift to the dragon bowl you’re packing up. “Like, you point things out, and you turn them good. As you said, it’s an easy fix, I have the time, and now you get to eat that.” 

“It’s a mutually beneficial arrangement, that’s for sure,” you laugh. 

“You’re also pretty happy most days, always makes me happy to come in and see our Little Miss Sunshine.” 

“Jeeze, not you calling me that pet-name too,” you roll your eyes. Hyuck had taken to calling you that a few months ago, and somehow the title had stuck. Mark was the only chef using your real name, but it looks like those days might already be behind you.

“It fits,” Mark assures you. “I think it’s cute.”

“Does it fit because I’m cute?” 

You notice the way Mark immediately swallows thickly, his skin turning a pretty shade of pink. “Uh- I mean, yeah,” his voice cracks, and he fiddles with his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows, “you’re cute-”

“Oh my God-” you stare at his forearms, which are usually covered by his chef coat. “Have you always had all those tattoos?!”

“Did you really never notice these?” Mark looks down at his arms, lifting them so you can see the details.

“I have never noticed them,” you confirm, leaning forward. “Damn, how many tattoos do you have?!”

“A lot?” Mark’s tattoos are patchwork style, all black. They litter his forearms, and you wonder how high up the markings go- you wonder if his chest is covered, or his back- what about his legs?

“I need a tattoo tour,” you insist.

“I mean… I can’t show you all of them-” Mark says sheepishly. 

“Start with that one,” you point at a tattoo of three letters near his inner elbow, “What’s SSG mean?”

“So uh- the first restaurant I worked in, a few of us dishwashers worked our way into the kitchen with no formal training or anything- just started at the bottom, and went up from there. One of us came up with the idea of being the Soapy Suds Gang, like- dishwashers to chefs. Was at that restaurant from the age of fifteen to twenty, and when it closed down cuz the owners just didn’t wanna be in the business anymore, me and all the others got the matching SSG tattoo.”

Mark is adorable. Like, shockingly so. It’s such a stupid yet endearing story- and for some reason, it feels so on-brand for Mark. 

He begins to tell you about a few other tattoos. There’s a shotgun to commemorate his years playing Call of Duty online with friends. A cartoon puppy because apparently his mom never let him get a dog - something about him not being able to handle it if the dog ever died - so when he turned eighteen, he got a dog that could never bite the bullet, etched into his skin with black ink. 

All the marks have meaning, stories that make up the groundwork of Mark’s life. 

“What about that one?” you ask, noting a King of Hearts tattoo that he’d skipped over.

“Oh, uh…” Mark rubs the back of his neck shyly. “My ex-girlfriend wanted a Queen of Hearts tattoo, so I got this one, and… I mean, I don’t regret it, I was with the girl for three years- but, it’s not a tattoo I talk about too often.”

“Three years?” you ask in shock. “You were with your last girlfriend for three years?”

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

“It’s just- I mean,” you lick your lips, leaning in so Mark’s the only one who can hear you, “I hate to say it, Mark, but you look like a total fuck boy.”

“I’m really not,” Mark admits. 

“Even before your last ex?”

“Even before,” the line chef confirms. “I’ve got two ex-girlfriends. The last one ended about a year ago, dated her from age twenty-two to twenty-five. Had a girlfriend from when I was sixteen to twenty-one-”

“So a three-year relationship and a five-year relationship?” 

This gossip keeps getting juicier and juicier. 

“Yeah. The first one moved to another country to teach English, and I’ve never been that into long distance. We tried to make it work, but we agreed the best thing was to let each other go. Then the last girl decided she wanted more from life than some line chef so…” Mark trails off and you feel your heart hurt for him. “Anyways, what about you? How many relationships have you had?”

“A lot more than you,” you answer quickly, although, that’s only if you count one-night stands, flings, and situationships, but you won’t go into those details with Mark right now. “I mean… are you looking for anything right now?”

“What do you mean?” Mark cocks his head to the side.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but… a few of the waitresses are into you,” you whisper.

“Really?” he looks past you at the restaurant, and you see him trail Luna with his eyes. “That’s nice and everything, but waitresses really aren’t my type.”

“Then what’s your type?”

“Expo girls.” 

His words hit you in your chest, and you can feel your pulse quicken immediately.

“I mean-” Mark’s skin has returned to that pretty pink colour. “My first girlfriend- the five-year one, she was the expo girl when I met her- we got close cuz we spent so much time together. I didn’t mean you- I wasn’t trying to hit on you or anything- not that I don’t think you’re cute, cuz you’re definitely cute- fuck.”

You watch him, smiling and completely amused. It appears you’d read the new line chef all wrong. He’s not a fuck boy, he’s a lover boy, and you kind of adore that about him.

“I should uh- I need to remake this dragon bowl-” Mark turns away from you, and you watch him scurry off to the fridge to grab vegetables. 

You’re kind of hoping to tease him so more when he returns, but before he does, Doyoung appears from the back, and he waves you over. “It’s been dead for half an hour,” your manager notes, “you’re cut. Head home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Five

Mark hasn’t been able to stop thinking about your conversation. All night, he’d had you on his mind- and he’d kind of been hoping to get to talk to you today, but you have the day shift and this is one of his first nights scheduled.

Even so, Mark arrives to work thirty minutes early just on the off chance he’ll catch you, and as he’s waiting outside the backdoor, hitting his vape, his hopes come true.

You step out of the back of the restaurant, looking down at your phone. The jacket you’re wearing today is vibrant in contrast to your all-black uniform, and the comfy sneakers you always put on after your shift in flats are beginning to look a little worn out now that winter is almost over. 

“Hi,” Mark says, drawing your attention.

“Oh,” you put your phone into your pocket, offering him a smile. “Hey- you just starting?”

“In ten minutes or so,” the line chef nods. “I uh- I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Apologize for what?” You cock your head to the side. 

“All of it?” Mark suggests.

You laugh, and the sound does things to Mark that he’ll never be able to express. “Seriously, we’re all good,” you assure him. “I think you’re pretty cute too, so, don’t worry about any of it.”

Mark’s mouth feels dry, and it’s not just from the vaping. He fiddles with the device in his hand, working up the courage to say what’s on his mind. “I was wondering- I mean, it sounds like you’re still on the market and all- so I was thinking, maybe, if you’d like- maybe we can go out sometime, or something- but no pressure.”

Your smile widens, and you step closer to him. “What would going out with you look like?”

“Honestly…” Mark swallows thickly, “it would look more like staying in. Since we both work in a restaurant- or maybe it’s just a ‘me thing’, but I’m not super into drinks as a first date, or even food- I’m a bit of a homebody. I’d love for you to just come over, watch some netflix, talk- that sort of shit.”

You look him up and down, and Mark’s body tenses as he waits for your response.

“That actually sounds pretty nice,” you admit. “Here, give me your hand.”

Mark holds out his palm, watching you pull out a Sharpie from your pocket. You write your phone number across his skin. “Careful,” you say, as you draw the last digit, “Don’t wash this off or anything.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, already planning on taking a picture of it with his phone just in case. 

“I should get going, but yeah- text me when your shift is over and we can figure something out.” 

“You got it,” Mark grins, unable to hold in his excitement any longer. “Have a good night.”

“You too.” 

With one final exchange of eye contact that makes Mark’s heart lurch in his chest, you walk off, the line chef’s eyes following you all the way out of sight. 

As he turns to head inside, Mark bumps into Hyuck. “Don’t go in just yet,” Hyuck insists, “stay out here and vape with me for a minute.”

It’s hard for Mark to focus on anything Hyuck is saying about the afternoon rush, but he manages to nod and make sounds of affirmation while his coworker rants about some party of fifteen that walked in and only ordered appetizers. 

“Mark, you’re not paying attention,” Hyuck sighs.

“Sorry, I’m just kind of-” Mark swallows the lump in his throat, “yeah, I’m distracted.”

“Got a hot date?”

“What?” Mark looks up.

“Someone wrote their digits on your hand,” Hyuck grabs at Mark’s wrist, “let’s see-”

Mark tries his best to pull away, but Hyuck’s already assessing the phone number. After a moment, the younger man lets go, his mouth forming a firm line. “I warned you about her.”

Mark’s surprised that Hyuck - who has the memory of a goldfish most days - clearly recognizes your phone number. 

“I told you she’s not for beginners.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have to listen to you,” Mark insists. “And not everything is about fucking. She’s gonna come over, we’re gonna watch movies- nothing has to happen. I just want to know her better.”

“Lover boy,” Hyuck scoffs, “she’s going to eat you up, and spit you back out.”

“And if she does, then that’s my choice,” Mark says firmly. “I know she fucked you over or whatever, but that doesn’t mean anything to me, Hyuck. I’m sorry, but I really don’t care about what happened between the two of you.”

“Ouch, dude.”

“If she’s as bad as you say, then you can say you told me so when this is all over. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Six

“So this is Jeno’s famous fuck pad,” you tease, stepping into Mark’s apartment and looking around. 

“Uh, he doesn’t actually bring girls here that often,” Mark says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “He likes to go to their place, makes it easier to run than kicking a girl out the next morning, you know?”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod… you usually fuck guys in their homes for the same reason. “It’s a nice place.”

“Thanks, my ex had a lot to do with the decor and shit.” Now that Mark mentions it, the vibe definitely doesn’t scream ‘boy’, and it especially doesn't scream ‘home of a line chef and bartender.’ 

The cream-colored couch in the living room has pretty sage pillows, there’s a tasteful rug under a circular coffee table. On the table are three candles varying in size, as well as a design book that you’d bet has never been opened or looked at in detail by the men who live here.

It’s a comfortable home, but you wonder what it feels like for Mark to live in a space that constantly reminds him of an ex who ditched him for not having his own shit together.

“I didn’t realize Jeno was a tidy guy,” you note, thinking back to the line of dirty cups he always allows to build up in the bar dish area. 

“He’s not, but I am.” Mark enters the living room, and he takes a seat on the couch, kicking his legs up onto a small puff stool next to the coffee table. “I guess when you work on the line, you’re used to doing little clean-up jobs to keep everything smooth. I don’t mind moving two or three beer cans to the sink every day if it means there aren’t any piles building.” 

So he’s a sexy line chef, with tattoos, who likes long-term relationships, and also cleans up his home? Mark really is a catch amongst flounders.

“Are you going to come sit?” Mark asks, noting the way you stand at the edge of the room. “Or, shit, should I offer you a drink first? We’ve got beer, or I could make you a cocktail or something-”

“I’m good, just… getting used to this.” 

It feels kind of odd to be with Mark in a casual setting. You’ve only ever seen him in a professional manner, with an expo station between you both- now, Mark is right in front of you, and as you sit on the couch next to him, you’re hyper-aware of the way your thighs almost touch.

“So… Netflix?” you ask.

“Yeah,” Mark grabs the remote, the sleeve of his hoodie pushed up so you can see his forearms. 

“You still haven’t given me a full tattoo tour,” you tease, reaching out to gently trace the puppy etched against his skin.

“Maybe that’s a date number two sort of thing,” Mark suggests, tugging the fabric down to cover his skin.

Your grin widens. “Do I make you nervous, puppy boy?” 

“Definitely,” he lets out a shy laugh, and you watch his Adam’s apple bob with the effort of swallowing. “So uh… what do you wanna watch?”

You let out a sigh, relaxing back against the couch. “Surprise me.”

“Well, there’s this anime I’ve been wanting to get into-” Mark finds the show in his ‘to watch’ list.

“Let's do it.”

“Really? You’re down?”

“Uh huh, I’m not that picky,” you nod, offering him a smile.

“It can be…” he starts the first episode, “like- if you wanna keep doing this sort of thing, it could be our show.”

“That actually sounds nice,” you admit. You suppose it shouldn’t be a shock that Mark is thinking long term- you do work together after all, but when you’d been seeing Hyuck, every day was a question of longevity. Would he call? Would he not call?

Hyuck never talked in definitives. He never made promises. The only true thing you could count on was seeing him at work three of five days of the week when your schedules aligned, and he never locked himself in for any more than that. 

“Should I-” Mark licks his lips, “I mean, finding a show was way easier than I thought it would be. Do you want a drink? I’ve got chips?”

“I’m okay, but if you want something, you should grab it.”

“I’m good if you’re good,” Mark mutters, leaning back against the couch. Your shoulders are touching, and you’re already finding it difficult to focus on the tv screen as the anime begins to play.

You’re aware of each breath, each slight shift of Mark’s body. “Are you comfortable?” he asks after a short while.

“I mean, we could probably find a more comfortable position than this one,” you note. 

“Like… do you wanna cuddle?”

“If you want to, I’d be up for that.”

“Okay, one sec,” Mark turns, grabbing at the back cushion of the couch. He tosses it to the side. “I can big spoon you.”

In under a minute, Mark is settling behind you, pillows are adjusted, and a gentle hand finds your hip. You wiggle slightly, trying to get snug against the line chef’s chest. 

“Is this good?” he asks, his breath ghosting by your ear.

“It’s nice, but let me just…” you grab his hand, threading your fingers and bringing it up to your chest, so you’re truly wrapped in his embrace. You can feel his heart against your spine, and you can hear the way his breath catches. “That’s better,” you let out a sigh of relief. 

The anime is fun, but you’re much too focused on Mark. Something tells you he’s quite focused on you as well, and finally, your patience snaps. You roll onto your back, looking up at him.

“You good?” he prompts.

“Uh huh. Just thinking.”

“About?”

You shrug. “I guess maybe I’m just wondering what work is going to be like tomorrow.”

“Hopefully busy.”

You laugh at how innocent Mark can be. “I mean in terms of cuddling with you tonight, then working together in the morning.”

“I mean… how was it with Hyuck when you two were seeing each other?” 

Your heart clenches. “Oh… he uh… he told you about that, huh?”

“Mentioned it once or twice.”

“All good things, I hope?”

“For the most part,” Mark nods. “But just so you know- I don’t take everything Hyuck says seriously. You two had something going on, but every relationship is different. I’m sure you have your own side to the story. I know you’re a good person - that’s what my heart tells me at least - so that’s what I’m going off of.”

You stare up at the line chef. The man you’d pegged as a fuck boy, who is turning out to be the farthest thing from a womanizer that you’ve ever met.

You can’t help but reach up and cup his face. There aren’t words that come to mind, but you hope your expression shows your gratitude for his kindness.

Mark’s gaze dips to your mouth, and you watch the way he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on his slightly. “So no pressure or anything,” he says, voice cracking, “but uh… can I kiss you?”

“You can kiss me,” you confirm, staying still and waiting for the precious man to make his move. Part of you is scared to take control- you’re worried about scaring Mark off, like you’d scare off a wild bird with one wrong muscle twitch. 

You’re still cupping his face, and Mark mirrors the act, gently cupping your cheek. He looks down at you, searching your eyes for a moment. You wonder if he’s looking for any hesitation, any sign that you regret your affirmative answer. Then he looks at your lips, and you can see some of the tension leave his body.

In fact, you see the exact moment Mark decides to give in to his desires. His lips part ever so slightly, his brown eyes shyly meeting your own as he begins to move in closer-

As his mouth presses to your own, you realize this might be the softest kiss a man has ever bestowed upon you. He’s not trying to shove his tongue down your throat- not biting at your lip and asking for entrance. It’s a simple brush of lips on lips, and it leaves you wanting more.

Your hand finds the back of his neck, and you drag him closer, letting out a small mewl. You capture his bottom lip between your own, suckling on it gently-

Mark pulls away, and your eyes open. You’re disappointed, but when you notice Mark breathing heavily, your annoyance dissipates.

“Was that okay?” you ask, worrying that maybe you’d been going too fast for the soft man.

“Yeah- better than okay,” he assures you. 

“Can we… can you kiss me again?”

“Uh huh,” he nods, leaning back down to press his lips against your own. His hand finds your hip, and you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss is just as gentle as the first, but the passion begins to burn brighter with each passing second.

No one has ever kissed you like this.

You can’t explain it- but in a matter of moments, your attraction to Mark has grown tenfold. 

When he breaks away from you for a second time, you’re both breathing heavily. You open your eyes to stare up at the pretty line chef, watching him swallow thickly.

 “Should we uh… should we keep paying attention to the show?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “Yeah, we should.” You roll onto your side again, and Mark settles against your back. He tucks you closer, his fingers threading through yours. 

It’s impossible to focus now, and you begin to wiggle slightly, pressing your ass back against the front of his jeans.

“Are you uncomfortable?” Mark asks, letting go of your hand to grab your hip, steadying you.

“I’m fine- I’m just…” - unbelievably horny - “you’re a good kisser.”

He lets out a small laugh. “Thanks. I liked kissing you too.”

“So…” you look over your shoulder at him, “wanna kiss me again?”

Mark grins, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

As with the first two times, Mark pulls away much too fast for your liking.

Your head is spinning. You’ve never experienced a situation like this. Mark is being respectful- he’s keeping his hands in PG locations, and the kisses have involved zero tongue- does he not like you as much as you like him?

How much do you like this line chef?

Do you like him because he’s not completely fawning over you like you’re used to?

What is going on?!

“I just want you to know,” Mark says, “it sounds like you’re used to fuck boys and shit, and I uh- well, I’m not like them. There’s no pressure to get naked or anything today-” his voice hitches, “in fact, Jeno will be home soonish so it’s better if we don’t-”

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

Mark tenses behind you. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“If we move to your room, Jeno won’t walk in on us.”

“It’s not about that,” Mark assures you. “Look, I want to take my time with you. This is our first date. I want things to feel right. I want to do this right. Can you understand that?”

You think maybe you’re too horny to want to understand it. 

You want to tear Mark’s clothes off. You want to push him down and ride him until he’s gasping your name and filling you with his cum. You want to feel him still dripping out of you when you go into work tomorrow morning- 

No one has ever made you wait. You’re much too impatient for playing around- and your past lovers have been the same way. 

Even so, you respect the boundary Mark has just expressed. “No fucking tonight,” you agree, “I get that. It’s for the better.”

However, it’s not for the better of your throbbing pussy. 

Seven

God, Mark can’t take his eyes off of you. It’s been two hours since you arrived on shift, and Mark has been distracted for all of it.

You look adorable today. Your black outfit hugs your body just right, and Mark’s mind is consistently wandering to last night, when his hands had traced your hips before lacing your fingers-

When you speak, he finds his focus shifting to your lips- those pretty lips he’d kissed. The lips that had left him wanting more- the lips he’d thought about for hours after you’d gone home. He’d dreamt of kissing you, but it had fallen quite short to the real thing.

You’d sounded hurt when Mark had said you shouldn’t fuck last night, and part of Mark regrets drawing the line in the sand. But on the other hand, Mark had meant it when he said it wasn’t the right time. 

He doesn’t want to bed you after watching a few episodes of anime. You deserve so much more than that. 

Besides, if he had fucked you last night, Mark might have needed to take a sick day just to calm down. Even now, knowing he’s tasted your lips has his skin heating every time he looks at you. 

God, you’ve got him practically bewitched.

As the lunch rush comes to an end, Mark finds time to go outside and vape. He watches the cars pass while he puffs on his device, closing his eyes and imagining your lips.

As his little break is coming to an end, the door hinges squeak behind him, and Mark turns to find you standing there. 

“Oh, hi,” you grin. 

“Hey.” He looks you up and down. “You leaving?”

“Doyoung cut me again, it’s been slow this week,” you nod. 

Mark swallows thickly. He can’t help the way his gaze dips to your lips again.

You step forward, smiling. “You wanna kiss me again, don’t cha, Mark?”

He doesn’t even bother responding. He slips his vape into his pocket, grabbing your hips to tug you closer. As he brings his mouth down to yours, he pauses for a second, meeting your gaze. If you want to pull away, he gives you ample time, but instead, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, closing the distance between your lips.

You take more control today than last night. You lick at his lower lip, not doing too much tongue, but providing just enough that it has Mark’s skin tingling with need. His fingers dig against your hips, pulling you tighter. 

The kiss deepens, and Mark’s entire heart lurches in his chest when you let out a pleased mewling sound.

Fuck, he loves your sounds already- you sound so fucking pretty-

“Jesus.” Head Chef John’s voice makes Mark practically jump, and he tears his lips away from your own, eyes immediately finding his boss, who’s standing by the exit door. “Damn, newbie, you work fast, don’t you?”

Mark’s skin feels like it’s on fire, and he’s quick to let go of your hips, stepping away and running an awkward hand through his hair, “Chef-”

“Don’t tease him, Johnny,” you sigh. “You nearly gave Mark a heart attack sneaking up on us like that.”

“I’m shocked neither of you heard the door.”

“We were busy!” you insist, raising your voice in jest at the head chef.

Mark is shocked at the way you talk so easily with his boss. But he supposes you’ve been at the restaurant for over a year- maybe you’re closer with the tall head chef than Mark realized.

“Look, I’ll say what I said when Hyuck was trying to get with you, sunshine,” Johnny grins, reaching into his pocket to pull out a jacked-up vape pen. “As long as you use protection we’re good, I can’t have my line chefs becoming fathers and taking time off.”

“And I’ll say what I said last time you told me to wrap it: never gonna happen.” 

“IUD’s aren’t a hundred percent viable,” Johnny points out, making Mark nearly choke on air.

“Mine has been so far, so stick it old man.” You turn to Mark, “Don’t mind him, he’s protective.”

“I was protective with Hyuck, because he’s a douchebag, but Mark seems okay,” Johnny laughs. 

“Thanks?” Mark can’t believe what he’s hearing. 

“Listen, I’ll text you okay?” You grab the front of Mark’s apron, pulling him in so you can press a chaste kiss to his cheek. “Have a good rest of your shift.”

Mark watches you dart off. He’s tongue-tied, skin still flaring, heart racing in his chest.

“She’s a good one,” Johnny muses. “Best expo girl we have. Don’t fuck it up, Mark, I’ll fire you before we get rid of her.”

“Trust me,” Mark coughs, “I wasn’t planning on fucking things up any time soon.”

Eight

In the year you’ve had your solo apartment, you’ve not had any guys over. Your MO is to go to the man’s place so you can dip out whenever you get anxious or tired. Inviting a man over to your safe space woman sanctuary is new. The nervousness is manifesting physically; you’re fussing over the overswept floor and the frill on your couch blanket when Mark texts you that he’s arrived. 

With one final breath, you head down to the lobby to let Mark in.

He’s in blue jeans and a black hoodie that sets off the blonde tone of his hair. You’ve been meaning to ask him about who does his bleach out, but you know men can be touchy about their physical appearance and certain body modifications, so you’ve been holding yourself back.

He looks good. That’s all that really matters. 

“Hey,” Mark grins as you open the door, pulling you into a hug. 

“Hey, yourself,” you smile back, pulling away from the embrace to lead Mark to the elevator. You can hear the line chef following you, and you suddenly feel self-conscious about your building. 

“It’s a nice place,” Mark notes, as if he can read your mind. “New build?”

“I think it’s been here like three or four years? I moved in last winter.”

“Right,” he nods, coming to a stop next to you as you hit the button to call the elevator. 

You can feel him staring at you, and it’s making you even more nervous. “What?” you ask, letting out a short laugh.

“Nothing, you just uh… you look cute.” 

“I’m literally in PJ’s.” Your gaze dips to your simple fuzzy purple shorts, and the tank top you’re wearing.

“But they’re nice. I’ve only ever seen you in work outfits, and when you came over last time you were in jeans. You look cute dressed down like this.”

You’d been worried about being so casual with Mark- dressing for comfort instead of the need to impress, but it seems you’ve succeeded in both comfortability and making a good impression. 

“Thank you,” you smile, your insides practically glowing from the compliment. No other man has seen you this way and called you cute- it’s one of the reasons you usually dip out from a man after sex. There’s no comfort or getting comfortable- your other relationships have always been rigid, a push pull and need to be perfect at all times in order to be deserving of attention.

You make it up to your floor, and another wave of anxiety washes over you as you let Mark into your small apartment. “It’s not much,” you sigh, “but it’s home.”

Mark slips off his sneakers by your door, looking around. “No, I like it,” he assures you. “No roommates kicking around- I bet living alone is pretty relaxing.”

“It can be, but it’s also lonely at times,” you admit.

“Well, if you get lonely here, you can always call me and I can come entertain you.”

Mark’s words give an air of longevity. He sounds certain about this, as if it’s a given that he’s part of your life now, as if he’s not going anywhere. 

You’re not sure what to make of Mark. You’ve never really had steady consistency from a man- but he seems so sincere, it makes you want to be hopeful, and hope can be a dangerous thing for a girl like you.

“So uh… can I get you something to drink?” you ask. “We’re just watching anime right?”

“I’m good. If I get thirsty, I’ll let you know,” Mark assures you, taking a seat on the couch in your living room. “Should we uh… should I move some of these pillows so we can cuddle again?”

You grin, pouring yourself a cup of water. “If you want to cuddle, we can cuddle.”

“I want to cuddle,” Mark states, immediately grabbing at the cushions and rearranging your space to allow for you both to lie down. 

He’s adorable. Laying down in front of him already feels kind of natural. The way he grabs your hip and tugs you close to his chest has your heart singing, and his breath against the back of your neck is as familiar as anything.

Not much needs to be said as you start your anime. You’re simply enjoying the comfortability of companionship- companionship lacking any pressures or timeframes. You’re two souls sharing your moments together.

It’s a different feeling for your mind to go blank while you’re with Mark. You’re shocked by how safe you feel in his embrace. 

You talk here and there, the two of you discussing moments in the anime, but conversation doesn’t get much deeper than that. You actually kind of enjoy not having to use your brain, and you’re definitely enjoying the warmth of the man behind you.

“I’m uh, gonna take my hoodie off,” Mark tells you, shifting slightly. 

“Okay.” You give him space, turning to look over your shoulder as he lifts the fabric off his body, revealing the white tshirt below. “Wait, can you give me a deeper tattoo tour now?”

“Uh…”

“You said you’d give me a proper tour on the second date,” you tease, hooking your finger in the neck of his shirt and gently pulling, giving yourself a tiny peak of marked skin along his collarbones.

“I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” Mark laughs sheepishly. “Okay,” he takes a deep breath, sitting up again and grabbing the hem of his shirt.

As Mark reveals his chest to you, you’re a little taken aback by what you see.

Generally, you’re pretty good at guessing a man’s build under his clothing, but Mark is much more toned than you thought he would be. It’s clear he works out, and the muscles you see are amplified by tasteful placement of tattoos littering his torso.

“Where do I even start?” Mark asks, looking down at himself.

“Wherever you want to.” You turn to face him, anime forgotten in the background.

He brushes his own fingers across one of the ferns decorating his collarbones. “These are my mom’s favourite plant.”

“Her favourite plant?” you grin.

“Yeah, I know, most moms have a favourite flower, but my mom kind of really likes ferns.”

“Sounds like you’re close with her,” you note.

“I’m a complete mama’s boy,” Mark admits with a laugh, which is when your gaze lands on a heart with the word ‘Mom’ tattooed on his ribs.

“I see that.” You reach out and gently brush the mark.

The line chef shivers under your touch, the muscles in his abdomen jumping deliciously. You wonder how ticklish he is. 

“Then this one,” Mark touches the moth blooming out from his sternum, “was just really cool and the artist needed someone to practice on, so I said, let’s do it, fuck me up.”

You grin at his choice of words. Mark can be kind of reserved at work, it’s interesting to hear his dirty mouth now that you’re alone. 

You kind of love listening to him as he continues with the tour, tracing the lined patch work. Each mark is another story or detail about the line chef you’re starting to fall for, and you commit his words to memory. 

He’s done the tour of his tattoos much too fast for your liking. You trace the last of the marks, a dagger on his bicep. 

Laying on your back with Mark on his side next to you, things feel very intimate, especially now that his focus has shifted away from his tattoos and is solidly fixed on you.

His hand finds your abdomen, and he gently lines the curve of your hip with his fingers.

Neither of you say anything, caught in the peaceful quiet and moments of mutual discovery. 

His fingers brush by your rib cage, and you’re struck by the need for more. Gently placing your hand over his, you prompt him up higher, until his palm is placed over your breast. You sneak a glance at Mark, noticing the way he swallows thickly.

“Are you a boobs man, Mark?”

“I mean… who isn’t?”

You grin at his answer. “Should I take my shirt off? It’s only fair, right? Yours is off.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” he assures you.

“I want to take my shirt off.”

“Then take your shirt off,” he says quietly.

You sit up, quickly discarding the fabric before laying back down again. Now you’re just in a bra and PJ shorts. Mark sucks in a breath, his hand finding your bare hip. Once again, you have to guide his touch up to your breast. This time, when he squeezes you, his thumb rubs over the swell of plump flesh.

You can feel your nipple hardening with interest, pressing against the cup of your bra. “We should take this off next,” you suggest, grabbing at your strap.

“Yeah?” Mark’s eyes widen as he looks at you, his lips parting as he breathes heavier.

“I mean, unless you want me to keep it on?”

“Like I said,” the line chef brushes his thumb over your skin again, “do whatever makes you most comfortable.” 

You sit up again, reaching behind your back to undo the clasp. For a moment, you pause. This is a line you won't be able to uncross. You’re about to show your coworker your boobs. Your sweet, honest, adorable, line chef coworker, who gazes at you with stars in his eyes- your fuck boy look alike secret softie-

You undo your bra, throwing it off the couch before laying flat again. This time, you don’t have to prompt Mark’s hand, he gently traces his fingers up your ribs until he’s cupping your breast. He watches you tentatively, sucking his lower lip into his mouth as his thumb brushes over your hardened nipple.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Mark says, firmly this time.

“Come here,” you reach up to cup the back of his neck, drawing his lips to yours. He kisses you like he’s afraid you might break, but when you whimper, he responds with a groan, deepening the passion as his tongue glides against your own.

His hand kneads your breast, making you moan again, pushing up toward his palm. You can feel the desire growing between your legs as he kisses you, and you reach out to trace his chest. Your touch begins to lower, fingers grazing over his abdomen-

Mark breaks the kiss, nuzzling against your jaw to prompt your face to the side so he can access your throat. He peppers your skin in soft kisses, slowly descending until he reaches your collar bones-

You realize what he’s about to do and tangle your fingers through his soft blonde hair, pushing your chest up in silent affirmation. “Mark-” you whimper, rewarded when his wet lips wrap around your nipple.

Fuck, he feels so good-

Has anyone ever felt this good?

Maybe it’s the waiting- the going slow, or maybe it’s just the fact that Mark makes you feel safe, but regardless, each touch, each brush of his lips and tongue, has you mewling. You’re pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties at this point, your pussy practically throbbing with each flick of his wet muscle against your pebbled nipple.

“Mark?” you whisper, tightening your grip in his hair. “Are you…” you swallow thickly. “Are you going to fuck me?”

The line chef pulls away from your breast, looking up at you with dark chocolate eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do-”

“What if I want this?”

“I usually don’t sleep with girls on the second date-”

“Make an exception?” you plead. 

You haven’t been fucked in a few weeks, and you’re feeling desperate. You want to connect with Mark on that physical level, and sex is always the way you do that with men. You want him to feel good, to give him a reason to stick around like he says he will.

“But wait-” you feel your skin heat, “I have something I should tell you first.”

Mark cocks his head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“I uh… I’m going to be super real with you right now.” You take a deep breath. “Look, I read a lot of smut? That’s like- I read a lot of erotica, written porn, I guess- and, in smut, and porn especially, girls always just cum so easily- and I wish I was that type of person, but I’m not. No guy has ever… you know, gotten me there. What I’m trying to say is, I can have fun even without cumming. So if I can’t get there with you, it’s not you, it’s literally me-”

“Hey,” Mark reaches up to cup your cheek, cutting off your rambling. “Thanks for telling me, but there’s no pressure. Whatever happens, happens. For some girls, you have to get more comfortable. My first girlfriend was like that too, and there’s never any judgement from me. I’m willing to wait for you to feel safe enough that your body relaxes.”

“You are?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures you. “I mean, I can’t promise that I’ll be as good as the guys in your books or in porn. Dirty talk is something I have to get used to using too, but, if we give it time, I’m sure we’ll figure each other out.”

You search his eyes, processing what he’s just said. Then you give him a small nod. “That sounds good to me.”

“Good.” He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours. “But, if we’re going to do this, I’d like for us to go to your bedroom, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” You sit up, getting off the couch quickly while Mark follows. As you get to the door of your bedroom, you look over your shoulder, snaking your fingers into your shorts and pulling them down.

“Fuck-” Mark groans, eyes taking in your body.

You can see a half chub pressing against the denim of his blue jeans, and your pussy throbs again. “Come on, puppy boy,” you tease. 

He’s quick to catch you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his chest to your back. His lips find your neck and you giggle, moving toward your bed while dragging the line chef with you.

“You’re so pretty,” Mark groans, tracing your curves with one hand while the other reaches to grab your breast.

Turning in his arms, you press your lips to his, enjoying the way each kiss gets deeper. He’s relaxing against you, his tongue exploring you more and more. 

When you make it to the bed, he gently prompts you to sit down. You look up at Mark, watching him take in your form. “How did I get this lucky?” he asks.

“You asked me out,” you remind him. “So you did this all yourself, Mark.”

“Did I?” he grins, sinking to the floor.

You’re surprised by the new position, surprised by the way he gently parts your knees, his gaze finding your hot core. 

“Can I take these off?” he questions, gently tugging at your panties.

“Yeah-” you whisper.

Most guys don’t eat you out as an appetizer. In fact, you have to ask most men to go down on you- but here’s Mark, doing it all of his own accord. And he looks so needy- in the best possible way.

Mark slips your panties down your legs, and then his lips find your calf. He begins kissing up your skin, spreading your thighs to accommodate him. 

“You don’t have to-” Your words are lost when he presses a kiss to your clit.

“Don’t have to what?” Mark asks, looking up at you.

“Don’t have to eat me out-”

“I want to eat you out,” he confirms. “I’ll eat you out for as long as you want me to- but, when you need more, just say something, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” Mark hums, immediately pressing his mouth against your core again. He licks a wet stripe of your pussy, and it makes your legs twitch on his shoulders.

You relax against the mattress, closing your eyes and focusing on the feeling of Mark pleasuring you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, keeping him where you need him. He focuses on your clit, circling it and toying with it.

It feels amazing- it does, but there’s some sort of mental block in your brain. You wish you could just cum from this, but the more you think about that, the more you distract yourself from Mark. God, you almost feel bad making him eat you out like this- he’s not getting anything-

The overthinking is something you’re used to, and try as you might to talk yourself down from the ledge of sexual issues, you can’t relax. You can’t focus on Mark, and it frustrates you to no end.

Finally, after what feels like hours of him eating you out - although it must only be a few minutes - you gently tug his hair. “Want your cock now,” you tell him.

“Yeah?” Mark wipes his hand across his mouth, looking up at you with pupils blown from lust.

“Please,” you nod. 

“Should I uh- should I grab a condom?”

You’re quick to shake your head. “We’re both clean right?”

“Yeah-”

“I have an IUD, remember? I want you to cum inside of me.”

Mark draws in a shaky breath. You watch him swallow thickly, then he stands up, undoing his blue jeans. When he pushes down his pants, he moves his underwear too, and just like that, your favourite line chef is standing naked in front of you.

He’s got a pretty cock. It’s girthy, cut, and must be around seven or so inches. The tip is curved slightly to his left, and it’s leaking precum even though you’ve hardly touched him.

Did Mark really get that turned on just from eating you out?

“Come here,” you offer him a small smile, shifting up your bed until your head reaches the pillows. You open your arms for Mark, watching him press a knee onto the mattress and approach you. Your legs wrap around his hips, and you drag him into a kiss.

The kiss is passionate, but there’s a tentative energy to it as Mark’s cock presses between your pussy lips, collecting the juice and saliva that’s congregated there. 

“Are you sure about this?” Mark asks, panting against your mouth. 

You open your eyes to look up at him, nodding.

“I uh… I need to hear you say yes.”

“Yes, Mark, I’m sure about this,” you say, trailing your fingers through his hair. “Please, I want you.”

He searches your eyes, then, with a final nod, he kisses you again. One of his hands slides between your bodies, and you feel him line his cock up with your core. Your legs tighten around his hips, and it’s something like a united effort when his length sinks into your pussy.

You both groan against each other’s lips. The kissing stops, but you remain close enough that your noses are touching. His breath is hot against your skin, and he begins to fuck you slowly, his cock filling you perfectly.

“You feel so good,” Mark groans. 

All you can do is moan in response, drawing his lips back to yours while he fucks you.

You get lost in the feeling of him, and the kissing does aid in calming down your tumultuous thoughts. You can focus on the pleasure that thrums through you with each thrust, the way his cock glides against your inner walls and stretches you out.

Mark grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers and pressing you against the bed, his hips working faster. His tongue is eager against your own, and he eats up your soft whimpers. His groans and grunts of effort make your soul sing, your heart beating quickly in your breast.

“Shit,” Mark pulls away from the kiss, looking down at you. “It’s been a minute since I’ve- since I’ve slept with anyone,” he admits. “I’m uh… pretty close.”

“Want you to cum,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Please- want you to fill me up-”

Mark groans, pressing his lips against your own. You kiss him desperately, tightening your legs around his hips. He squeezes your hand, his groans muffled by your mouth.

His hips work faster and faster- then, all at once, he kind of just stops. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, and his grip on your hand is tight as he coats your insides with his cum.

You hold him through his high, your free hand petting his hair while he brings his lips to your neck, panting desperately and kissing your skin. 

He lets out a sigh of relief as he finishes. Mark pulls away from your throat, looking down at you. You can tell there’s something he wants to say, but it’s clear that he’s not able to find the right words. “I, uh…” he licks his lips. “Should I grab you a tissue or something?”

“Yes, please,” you laugh, letting go of him so he can get off the bed. You watch him look around your room, finding your tissues on the nightstand. 

His legs are as covered in patchwork tattoos as the rest of him, and you’re pleased that the tour will continue another day. He hands you the tissue. “Do you want to use the bathroom first?”

“You can go for it, I just need a second,” you tell him.

Mark nods, pressing one last kiss to your lips before he leaves your bedroom.

You lay there in bed, holding the tissue between your legs to capture any of the cum beginning to leak out of you. 

You’re glad Mark got to cum. You’re not surprised you hadn’t. You just hope maybe one day you will get there, and for some reason, you have a hunch Mark will be the one to achieve an orgasm for you. Or at least, you hope he will. 

Nine

“So did you do it?” 

“Hmm?” Mark looks up from the chicken he’s cutting.

“You had your second date with Sunshine last night, right?” Hyuck presses. “So…. did you do it? Did you make her cum, or what?”

“Why are you so obsessed with this?” Mark sighs, looking at the other side of the kitchen where John is working. “We shouldn’t be talking about this here.”

“Nah, this is the perfect place to talk about it,” Hyuck leans against the work station, his back to the head chef. “So I’m guessing you didn’t make her cum.”

“Is that all you were thinking about every time you fucked her?” Mark asks.

“Duh.”

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe that’s the kind of mentality that would make a girl overthink the situation?” Mark shakes his head. “I bet you would watch her super intently and then just ask her to cum.”

“That’s a move, Mark, it’s called having rizz.”

“But it never worked, so was it really rizz, or were you just fucking yourself over?”

Hyuck narrows his eyes. “So now you’re the expert on making girls cum?”

Over Hyuck’s shoulder, John stops what he’s doing and turns to stare at the line chefs. Mark can feel his skin heating, and he opens his mouth to rectify the situation, but Hyuck’s already speaking again. 

“I bet you a hundred bucks you won’t be able to make her cum.”

“Fuck you, I’m not betting money on this shit,” Mark hisses. 

“Sounds like something a pussy would say.”

“A pussy with a knife in his hand,” the line chef notes, his grip tightening on the handle. “Look, when I do make her cum, you have to stop bashing her like it’s her fault that you wouldn’t take the time to make her comfortable.” 

“And when you don’t make her cum?”

“It’s not going to happen.” Mark’s not sure where his confidence is coming from, but something in his heart tells him to be firm about this. He’s going to get you there. It might take a few weeks, hell, it might take over a month- but he’s going to get you to the point where you relax enough to cum for him, or so help him God-

Ten

Mark had cum inside of you three times since arriving at seven, and at two am he had finally broached the idea of heading home. “I should probably go,” the line chef had sighed, holding you closer to his chest.

“I mean… you could always just stay over?” you’d suggested.

“Yeah?”

“It’s our third date, why not?” you’d shrugged, cuddling tighter against him. 

You hadn’t planned this, it had just sort of happened, and that’s how Mark had ended up sleeping at your place for the first time. 

He’d woken up half way through the night, voice raspy, hands grabby, moaning about how lucky he was to be here with you. Falling asleep again after he’d railed you had been as easy as breathing, and now, in the morning hours, you’re in the shower to wash off all the cum he’d left on and inside of you. 

Neither of you have to be at work till the afternoon, and you kind of like the idea of lazing around with Mark, who’s still passed out in your bed. 

You take your time with your skin care and hair, and when you finally enter your room, you’re intrigued to find the line chef still asleep. He’s quite handsome like this, all bundled up in your white duvet, blonde hair shining around him like a halo.

You try to be careful as you crawl onto the mattress next to him, but Mark immediately rolls over to pull you tight to his chest. He lets out a soft groan, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

God, why are things so domestic with this boy already?

His hands trail up and down your back, fingers stroking your skin. You’d put on his shirt, but other than that, you’re naked, and it doesn’t take long for Mark to realize that fact. His touch moves down to your hip, sliding under the shirt. His thumb draws circles against your bare skin, and he lets out another moan. 

“Morning, puppy boy,” you laugh.

“Hungry,” Mark whispers. 

“Hmm?”

“I said,” he leans down, pressing kisses to your throat, his lips brushing by your ear when he repeats himself; “Hungry.”

“I can make you breakfast,” you assure him.

“Don’t want food,” Mark says. “Want you.”

In one quick motion he pushes you onto your back, getting on top of you. His breath is hot against your neck, and he tugs on your shirt, pulling it up to reveal your breasts. His mouth wraps around your nipple, and he sucks on it gently, releasing sounds of pleasure. 

You thread your fingers through his hair, letting out a sigh of relief. “Feels good,” you tell him.

One of his hands slips between your legs, his digits teasing your slit. “Always so wet for me,” he groans, releasing your nipple with a pop. “Can I taste?”

Mark is definitely getting more bold with you, but that’s what happens when you’ve fucked a handful of times, had three dates, and one sleep over. 

“You can do anything you want to me,” you tell him.

The line chef kisses down your abdomen, pushing your legs open as he settles between them. You thread your fingers through his hair as he brings his mouth to your core, licking at your pussy lips. 

Mark is really good at oral. This is the fourth time he’s eaten you out. With each time he presses his mouth to your pussy, part of you gets more and more convinced that you’ll cum this way. When he adds two fingers into your aching core, you’re pretty much sure that it will happen-

It feels so good, and the moans that escape you reflect that. Your hips buck toward his face, prompting Mark to press a palm to your lower abdomen, keeping you pinned.

But every time you think you’re close - every time you’re about to announce it to him - the feeling dissipates. 

You can feel yourself getting more and more irritated with your body, and soon, you give up entirely. “Mark?”

“Hmm?” The vibrations against your clit have your thighs shaking.

“Can I just- can we just fuck? Please? I want you inside of me.”

Mark pulls away from your pussy, his fingers continuing in your hole. “Are you sure? You know I enjoy playing with you like this.”

“I know- but, I just- I’m in my head again. Want your cock in my pussy.”

Mark takes his fingers out of your core, bringing them to his lips to lick clean. Then he crawls up your body, kissing you so you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

“I’ll fuck you,” he says, “but don’t ever think I don’t enjoy being between your thighs like that, okay? You don’t have to cum, I know from the sounds that you make that you enjoy it, and that’s enough for me until you get there, yeah?”

You swallow thickly, nodding. “I’m still in my head.”

“I get that, Sunshine,” he kisses you gently, cupping your cheek as he lines his cock up with your wet hole. “If there’s anything I can do to stop the overthinking-”

“Just fuck me,” you insist, wrapping your legs around his hips.

Mark laughs. “You got it.”

Eleven

“Dude, is that a hickey on your neck?” Hyuck’s annoying voice makes Mark flinch, and his hand immediately flies to slap against the side of his throat.

“What? No.” 

“It totally is,” Hyuck laughs. “Damn, you two must really be going at it a lot.”

“We’re having fun.”

“Fun like two times? Three?”

“Fun like five times in the past twenty four hours.”

“Jesus Christ.” Hyuck’s eyes practically bulge out of his head. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t know what you were talking about with her not being able to sleep next to you. She passed out just fine with me last night.”

Hyuck lets out a deep breath. “Fucking Hell. Maybe I underestimated you. So… did she cum?” 

Mark sighs. He hates to be talking about this while at work. You’re running food, but you could be back at any second, and Mark doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea about all of this. Hyuck is the instigator of these sexual talks, and Mark doesn’t know how much to keep to himself.

“So that’s a no,” Hyuck deduces. “Big ouch.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t talk about this anymore,” Mark says finally.

“Why? Is your pride hurt?” 

Mark lets out another annoyed breath. “I just think it’s disrespectful. You’re an ex fling of hers, you don’t deserve to know everything about her personal life.”

“I don't want to know about her personal life,” Hyuck rolls his eyes. “I want to know about her sex life, there’s a difference.” 

“I’m done talking to you about this,” Mark insists.

“Damn, someone is starting to sound like a protective boyfriend. Jeeze, calm down.”

Mark hates that there’s some truth in what Hyuck is saying. He already feels quite protective of you. He’s got dates planned, things that can make you smile. He pays close attention to you when you speak, looking for your likes and dislikes. 

Mark is falling for you faster than he’d ever care to admit, especially not to Hyuck of all people. 

Twelve

“Who does a staff Christmas party in January?” Jungwoo asks as a bunch of you take the big table after the restaurant has closed.

“We were all too busy at Chirstmas time, remember?” Jaehyun says, looking at his waiter friend. “And then there was New Years, and we closed early.”

“I agree with you Woo, a mid January Christmas party feels weird,” you grin, leaning against your favourite server. 

In all honesty, it feels like your managers Taeil and Doyoung just wanted to give you all some time to relax and celebrate. January can be a slow month in the restaurant business, and you’d heard Jeno mention yesterday that there are four or five bottles of wine that no one has been ordering that have to be used up. 

As you begin to drink the wine, the mid January Christmas party makes more and more sense. The chefs have finished their closing tasks, with John joining you first, followed by Hyuck, and finally Mark.

With Jaehyun across from you, Jungwoo on one side, and John on the other, you’re surrounded. Mark sits at the other end of the table, offering you a small smile. You give him a gentle wave in response, giggling to yourself over the rim of your wine glass.

“Gosh, Sunshine,” Jungwoo slides closer to you. “Are you drunk already?”

“You’ve been refilling my glass,” you point out, pouting a little.

“Because you’re a cute drunk,” he grins. 

“A very cute drunk,” Jaehyun agrees, eyeing you from across the table. 

The thing about dating a coworker and it being new means you can’t talk about it. Until there’s a label with you and Mark, you’re keeping your lips shut. As far as Jungwoo or Jaehyun know, you’re single, and the latter of the two has been hitting on you for months.

It feels odd to have Jaehyun calling you cute while Mark is just a few seats down. Your stomach twists into drunken knots, and you wish you could move to be closer to your new secret Boo-

In the periphery of your vision, you note Mark stand up and begin to head to the bar. It feels like the perfect excuse to get some time alone with him, so you hop off of your chair. 

Mark’s grabbed a glass and is beginning to pour himself a beer from the tap by the time you reach him. “Hi, puppy boy,” you grin.

“Hey, Sunshine,” he laughs, looking you up and down. “Jungwoo’s been feeding you the wine, huh?”

“Just like… a normal amount.” God, you can’t help but smile constantly at the boy who has your heart twisting into love sick knots. 

“Are you tipsy?” Mark cocks his head to the side as he finishes pouring his drink.

“Maybe…”

“Can I get you some water?” he suggests.

You lean forward over the bar top, lowering your voice so only Mark can hear you. “I’m thirsty, but not for water or wine.”

It takes Mark a moment to read the innuendo of your words, but then he laughs. “I should get you some water.”

“What if I don’t drink it?”

“What if I ask you to please drink it?” he counters, already filling a cup for you. 

“Okay, fine. Just for you, though.” 

Mark grins as he hands you the glass.

“Why do you take care of me so much?” you ask, as the two of you head back to the table.

“Because,” Mark pulls your chair out for you, “you’re my favourite expo girl.”

“I better be,” you say, teasingly narrowing your eyes at Mark before he walks back to his own seat down the long table.

You begin to nurse your water. Mark’s right about you needing it. The tipsyness has somehow intensified- probably because Jungwoo had insisted you finish your wine glass. You feel blurry as you sit there and listen to your coworkers chat.

“I just don’t like saying chicken breast,” Jungwoo states.

“But that’s what they are!” Yuta, one of the night line chefs, insists. “They’re breasts!”

“I just tell customers that the alfredo comes with chicken, they don’t need to hear me say breast!” Jungwoo fights back. “Jaehyun agrees with me, right Jae?”

“Yeah, I just say chicken,” the man across from you nods.

“Taeyong also just says chicken,” Jungwoo continues. “So right now it’s three to one.”

“Hyuck,” Yuta calls across the table, gaining the attention of the men at the other end. “Do you call it chicken breast, or just chicken?”

“Neither,” Hyuck says confidently. “Thems some chicken boobies.”

You can’t believe the conversation you’re hearing. “I think it’s time for me to leave,” you decide. 

“What? Why?” Jungwoo whines.

“I can’t be here for a discussion about chicken.”

Jungwoo slams his hand on the table. “See, she said just chicken too!” 

Yuta points his finger at you like you’re on a game show. “Is that your final answer?” 

You lean forward, pretending his hand is a microphone. “Chicken titties.”

“Yeah, we’re cutting you off,” Jungwoo decides. “You need to go home and sleep.”

“Someone should make sure you get back to your place okay,” Jaehyun notes, standing from his chair.

“I’ll take care of her,” comes Mark’s voice from the other end of the table.

Jaehyun turns to stare at the line chef, who also stands up. 

John is next to you, and you watch a knowing expression appear on his features, grinning as he sips his beer. 

“You still have half your drink left,” Jaehyun insists, “And, I’ve known our little miss Sunshine for much longer than you have. I’m sure she’s probably more comfortable with me taking her home.”

A muscle in Mark’s jaw feathers. You watch him reach down and grab his beer, downing the whole thing in three large gulps before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth.

Fuck, the motion reminds you of what he does whenever he eats you out, and you feel almost dizzy thinking about it.

“Who’s it gonna be, Sunshine?” Hyuck grins. “Jaehyun, or Marky boy?”

“Let’s go, Mark,” you say, offering Jaehyun a small smile. “We’ll see all you guys tomorrow.”

Jaehyun looks pretty defeated, but you can’t even bring yourself to care as Mark comes around the table to offer you his arm. At first, you think you don’t his help, but when you stumble after one step, you latch onto his bicep.

“I was hoping you’d go home with me tonight,” you whisper as the two of you exit to the parking lot, where Mark’s truck is waiting. He helps you climb inside, smiling and shaking his head.

“Sunshine, if you ever want me to go home with you, you don’t have to get drunk, just ask.”

Thirteen

“I’m really not that drunk,” you insist, making your way over to the liquor cabinet again.

Mark sighs. You’re a grown adult, he can’t keep directing you away from the booze. “Okay, I believe you. What do you want? Let me make it for you.”

“I want…” you think about it for a moment. “An espresso martini.”

“It’s late, won’t the espresso make it hard for you to sleep?” You’re definitely drunk and you both know it.

“I don’t care. Want espresso martini.”

“Okay, Sunshine, you got it.” Mark moves through your kitchen, finding the espresso machine there. He slips a pod into the device, setting up a cup. 

“Can you add honey?” you ask, already moving to the cabinet to grab a bottle. Mark takes it from you, squeezing some of the honey into the bottom of the cup as hot coffee begins to pour over it. “I also want Baileys.”

Mark laughs a little, shaking his head as you stumble to grab the large Irish Cream bottle from your cupboard.

“And also ice,” you declare. “Frothed.”

“This is a whole thing, huh?” Mark watches you fill the frother with Baileys. 

“I like what I like,” you insist. “We’re gonna triple froth this.”

“You’re the boss.” Mark reaches into his pocket, pulling out his vape. You’ve been letting him smoke in here, and he appreciates the reprieve as the two of you make this very complicated espresso martini. 

By the time you’re done with it, Mark’s not even sure you could call it an espresso martini. With the amount of frothed foam on top, this drink is something else entirely. 

He watches you lift the cup to your lips, immediately getting foam on your face. You simply giggle and wipe it off, licking your finger clean. Then you dip your digit into the froth, scooping it up and popping it in your mouth.

Mark swallows thickly while watching you do this.

“Puppy,” you groan, “this is so good.” You offer him your finger. “Try it.”

Mark can’t say no to you, so he allows you to dip your finger into his mouth. He licks you clean, watching the way your breath catches. You bite on your bottom lip, swaying a little on your feet.

“Your turn,” you say quietly, holding out the cup.

“My turn?”

“I wanna suck on your fingers.”

Mark knows you're drunk. He knows this probably isn’t the best idea for either of you, but he simply can’t say no to you. Not now, not ever. 

He dips his pointer into the foam, then presents it to you. 

You grab his wrist, keeping him still while you move forward to suck on his finger, releasing a small groan. Mark can already feel the blood rushing to his cock, but he ignores it as he goes for another scoop of froth. 

“Tastes better on you,” you tell him, licking his digit clean again. “More. Please.” 

The way you look at him each time you suck his finger tells Mark that you’re as horny as he is. When he scoops with two digits, you practically mewl as you lick.

“I wanna suck on something bigger,” you state.

“Sunshine,” Mark sighs, “I really don’t want to take advantage-” 

“You’re not. Mark, you’ve eaten me out so many times, please let me return the favour?” You’re already sinking to your knees on the kitchen floor, and the sight of you makes Mark’s cock throb in his jeans. “Please, I just wanna suck you off.”

“You know I can never say no to you.”

As the words leave him your hands find his belt. In moments, you’re pushing his pants down, your grip wrapping around the base of his cock. He watches you lick your lips, your gaze meeting his as you lean forward to take him into your mouth.

Mark immediately lets out a groan. “You feel so good, sunshine.”

You whimper around his length, and the vibration has Mark’s fingers twitching. He reaches for your head, cupping your face while you suck him off. His other hand places your drink on the kitchen counter before falling to his side. The line chef’s head falls back, his eyes closing as he eats up the feeling of you.

“That’s it,” he sighs, loving the way you twirl your tongue around his shaft.

You take as much of him past your lips as possible, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. You gag around him, causing Mark’s eyes to fly open. He looks down at you with concern, but you keep sucking him.

“You don’t have to deep throat me,” Mark assures you, pushing some hair away from your face.

You let out a whine, sinking onto him again, only for your throat to constrict tight around his tip. 

Mark groans. “Fuck, Sunshine, I’m serious.”

The line chef could never do what you’re doing right now. Not because he’s not into cock, but because he has the worst gag reflex ever. He knows what it’s like to choke, and he doesn’t want you sputtering on his cock in the name of pleasuring him. 

When you try to deep throat him a third time, Mark simply pulls you off of him. He’s struck by the view of a string of saliva keeping you connected to his cock, and the way you look up at him in a confused daze has his heart thundering in his chest.

“Enough of that,” Mark says softly. “Let me take care of you.”

He reaches down, gently taking your hands so he can help you to your feet. 

“Bedroom?” he suggests.

You nod, swallowing thickly and wiping at your mouth, then you dart off. You’re awfully agile for a drunk girl, and Mark smiles to himself before following you. By the time he’s made it to the bedroom, you’ve already stripped.

You’re sitting on the bed, grinning at him with a hint of mischief in your eye.

“Take advantage of me, Mark,” you say as he pulls off his shirt.

“Jesus,” Mark whispers. “I hate to say it, but that line is not enticing at all.”

He’s still kind of questioning if this is a good idea, but at the same time, you’ve already fucked on multiple occasions. He knows you want him sober, and especially - it appears - while drunk. 

“Come on, please?” You pout out your lower lip.

Mark slips out of his jeans, joining you on the bed. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss while your legs encircle his hips.

As his cock slips past your core, Mark is shocked at how wet you already are. Booze has really done a number on you, but neither of you are complaining.

“You sure you want this?” he asks.

“Don’t make me beg,” you laugh, “Cuz I will.”

“No, it’s okay,” Mark swallows the lump in his throat. “Just checking.”

Before he can reach for his cock, you beat him to it, grabbing the base and lining his tip up with your entrance. “Fuck me, Mark, I’m begging for it.”

He presses his lips hard against your own as he pushes into your wet hole, both of you groaning loudly at the feeling. 

“Shit,” you whimper, breaking the kiss to look up at him, “I’m so sensitive today-”

“Alcohol does that sometimes,” Mark notes, bringing up a hand to cup your breast. When his fingers pinch your nipple, you let out a high pitched squeal, pushing your chest up toward his palm. 

“Fuck, Mark-” Your pussy clenches tight around him, and the feeling makes Mark dizzy. 

“You sound so good, Sunshine, and you’re gripping me so fucking hard-” Mark begins to fuck into you. Your nails claw at his arms, your head thrown back, eyes closed.

Mark reaches down to rub your clit. You shudder below him, legs tightening around his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-” you moan loudly. “Just like that-”

He applies more pressure to your sensitive bud, making your hips buck toward him, your core clenching him in a death grip. 

“If you keep squeezing me like this, I’m not going to last long-” he warns you, tension building in the base of his cock.

“I want you to cum,” you insist, opening your eyes to look at him.

“Don’t you want to try and get there too?” he asks. 

“I don’t-” you swallow thickly, “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

“Let me fuck you a little longer, yeah?” Mark prompts. “I can wait a bit. Actually, we should switch positions.”

“To what?”

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly. As soon as Mark pulls away, you’re flipping over, pushing your ass into the air for him.

“Fuck, what a view,” he breathes, hands smoothing across your bum. 

You whimper, and the sound encourages Mark to slip himself into you again. The sigh of relief that leaves you has Mark’s skin tingling, his grip finding your hips. 

“It’s so deep,” you groan, tangling your fingers in the sheets.

You’re right about that- your wet pussy is taking every inch Mark has, and each smack of his hips against your ass has you getting even wetter. He’s pretty sure you’re dripping down your thighs at this point, and his fingers dig into your skin even harder.

The sounds you’re making are like music to his ears. Your grip on his cock is insane. Mark’s pretty sure tonight is going to be the night that you cum- but as he continues fucking you, it becomes more and more clear that only one of you is going to get there- and fast. 

“Fuck,” Mark grunts, his heart racing in his chest as he picks up the pace of his thrusts. 

“Cum in me,” you insist, reaching behind yourself.

Mark grabs your hand, lacing your fingers and holding you against the small of your back.

“You really want me to cum?” he asks, breathless.

“Please,” you nod, squeezing his hand. “Wanna be full.”

Again, Mark can’t say no to you.

“Okay, fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he whispers, fucking you even harder. “Shit-” 

His orgasm hits straight on, tingling through his entire body like an electric jolt. He pushes his cock into you as deep as it can go, feeling it throb as he coats your walls in cum. Mark throws his head back, eyes closed, overcome by the pleasure that courses through him.

He’s not the type that can fuck someone through his high. When he cums, he has to stop, has to experience the feeling in full. His mind goes completely blank…

But his first thought when the words come back is that he should tell you he loves you.

Fuck. This is becoming a problem. 

Every time he cums deep inside of you, his feelings grow. He’s overwhelmed with this sense that you’re meant to be, that he should just lock you down and let you know how much you mean to him.

But as always, that logical side rears its head, reminding Mark that it’s only been a few weeks of seeing each other. He needs to take things slow- for your sake. He doesn’t want to scare you away. Being a safe space for you includes watching his tongue, it means not putting pressure on you like this- 

If there’s one thing that will pressure you, it’s the admittance that he’s kind of in love with you.

Instead of saying what’s on the tip of his tongue, Mark pulls out of you. He gets you a tissue for the cum that begins to drip out of your pussy, and a cup of water to make sure you’re hydrated. Once you’ve both cleaned up in the bathroom, he cuddles you close to his chest, stroking your back and listening to you breathe.

To Mark’s complete shock, you fall asleep on him within minutes. 

It’s a sign that you’re truly feeling safe with him, and Mark thinks he must be going in the right direction. He’s careful not to wake you up, he simply enjoys the feeling of holding you close while you rest.

Fourteen

You wake up slowly, cuddling closer to the warmth next to you. It takes you a moment to realize that the heat is coming from Mark, and you open your eyes to stare at him.

“Morning,” Mark grins, putting down his phone to watch you. “Sleep well?”

“Shockingly well,” you grin, snuggling closer. “You?”

“I like sleeping next to you,” Mark muses, wrapping his arms around you. “You know, I was thinking I could make you breakfast or something. Neither of us have work today.”

“Breakfast?” You perk up.

“Yeah, I can cook most breakfast or brunch foods, but uh… don’t ask me to make eggs.”

“Eggs?” You raise your brows, looking at him with a laugh.

“I know, it’s stupid cuz I’m literally a line chef, but I never went to school for it, remember?” Mark grins, stroking your skin. “John tried to teach me during brunch last week but I just- don’t have the patience for eggs.”

“Poor John, hired a chef who can’t cook eggs,” you tease. “Are you sure you don’t want something else for breakfast?”

“Like what?”

“Like… me?” 

Mark laughs. “As much as I’d love to fuck you today, I feel like- maybe it would be nice to not sleep together this morning... You know this isn’t just sex for me, right?”

“Yeah, but… sex is nice, isn’t it?”

Mark strokes your cheek, meeting your eyes. “Sex with you is always nice, but I think I kind of want to be domestic with you today instead, if that’s okay.”

Your heart clenches in your chest at his words. You can’t help but lean forward and kiss him gently. “That’s okay with me.”

“Good,” Mark grins. “Let's cuddle some more, and when you get hungry, I’ll take care of the food.”

As you slowly wake up next to Mark, you’re struck by how comfortable you are. Being with him like this feels natural. There’s no pressure to fuck, no need to suck dick in order to earn affection- Mark simply cares about you, and it’s clear in the way he holds you.

If you’re not careful, you could get used to this.

Fifteen

Since the ‘Christmas’ party, Mark’s been wanting to broach the subject of Jaehyun with you, but in the handful of times he’s slept over with you since then, it’s just never come up.

Today, watching Jaehyun talk with you by the bar, the question is fresh on Mark’s mind, and he only has one person he can justifiably ask about it.

“So… how close are Jae and y/n?”

“Hmm?” Hyuck looks up from the burger he’s stacking. “Oh, those two? Pretty close.”

Mark groans at the lack of detail. “Did they ever date?”

“I think she’s definitely his work crush. Pretty sure he’s asked her out a few times, but I don’t know if she realized it was a date sort of thing.” Hyuck laughs to himself. “I actually walked in on him asking her out around Halloween, but I think she thought it was a group idea. She rejected him though.”

“Looks like he hasn’t taken the hint,” Mark says, mouth forming a firm line.

“Nah, Jae has a pretty big ego. I mean, you’ve seen his face. He’s not used to rejection, it doesn’t compute for him.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, he simply goes back to the alfredo he’s cooking. But it becomes clear that Hyuck doesn’t want to let this go.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you, Marky boy?”

“No.”

“Yes, you totally are,” Hyuck grins. “How long have you and Sunshine been seeing each other now?”

“Like… three weeks? A month almost?”

“Have you talked about being exclusive or anything?”

“Not really.”

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s a yes or a no, Mark. There’s no ‘not really,’ when it comes to ‘the talk.’”

“No, we haven’t talked about it,” Mark admits with a sigh.

“Sounds like something you want though, right?” Hyuck presses.

“I thought I said I wasn’t going to talk to you about this anymore.”

“You’re the one who brought up Jae,” Hyuck points out, raising his hands in mock defense. 

Mark supposes Hyuck is right about that. He’s been considering defining the relationship recently- thinking about how a label could offer you safety, stability, things that are needed to help you relax. 

But now, the label transcends the use for comfortability and cumming, it almost feels needed.

You’re hot. Mark knows that. He sees the way people hit on you every day while you’re working. At first, he’d been okay with it- but now, he thinks maybe he needs something more. Maybe he needs the comfort of knowing that you’re taken, by him. 

He’s not the type to feel insecure, and he’s not even sure that insecurity is the right word for what he’s feeling.

All Mark knows, is that he wants to get to the next level with you, and he’s going to pull up his big boy pants to finally do it.

Sixteen

You’ve been at home for a few hours, having been cut from work early since it was a slow day, and you’re a little surprised when Mark calls you around dinner time.

“Hey you,” you grin, collapsing onto your bed to give Mark your full focus.

“Whatcha doin?” he asks.

“Just sitting here, was thinking of watching a movie. How about you? Just got off work?”

“Yeah, in a minute, just taking a vape break first. I was thinking maybe you’d let me see you when I’m off?”

“Definitely, you know my door is always open for you. But I should warn you, I have literally nothing in my fridge.”

“That’s okay, I’ll make your favourite and bring takeout,” Mark assures you. “See you in like… half an hour?”

That’s how Mark shows up on your home a short while later. You look him up and down, taking in his work outfit. “Didn’t wanna change after shift?” you grin, holding your door open for him.

“I uh, wanted to see you. Need a shower, so I figured I’d put on my fresh clothes after that.”

“Sounds good, you know that my home is your home. Go shower, I’ll put our food in bowls.” You accept the takeout from Mark, intent on turning to head to the kitchen- only for him to pull you back into an embrace.

“Hi,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your head and nuzzling against your hair.

“Hi,” you grin, turning in his arms to press your lips to his. “Go shower.”

“You got it.”

Mark goes into your bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water begin to run. You take your time in the kitchen. Mark has made himself alfredo, and he’s cooked your favourite rice bowl for you. You smile to yourself while plating the food, loving how domestic things have gotten with Mark.

Part of you is tempted to join Mark in the shower, but you’re not sure if you’re there yet, so you wait patiently for him to finish. This isn’t the first time he’s showered at your place, and you trust he’ll see his designated towel hanging on the hook behind your door. 

You kind of enjoy that he’s gotten so comfortable at your home. You’ve been spending so much time with him here and at work that it feels kind of odd when he’s not around. 

Soon, Mark is coming out of the bathroom. He’s in sweatpants and a tank top that shows off his tattoos. You have to actively stop yourself from drooling as you move to sit at the dinner table.

“So… did you need to talk to me about something?”

“Hmm?” Mark sits across from you.

“We didn’t have plans, you called and wanted to come over, I guess I’m just wondering if you had a specific reason.”

“Can’t I just miss you?” he grins.

Despite his words, it’s clear that there’s more to it, however you drop the issue. When Mark is ready to be real with you, he will be. You have time until then.

Mark begins to talk about work, how it had gotten busy after you’d left. You listen, happy to chat with him while you eat. 

After food, the two of you move to the couch, cuddling up while Netflix starts.

You’re two seasons into your anime already, it’s funny how time flies. You can turn your brain off when Mark spoons you, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder every now and again.

One episode in, Mark reaches over you for the remote, pausing your show. 

“I guess there is a reason I wanted to come over,” he admits finally.

“Yeah?” You turn onto your back, looking up at him. 

“I hate to say that I’ve been jealous, but uh… since the Christmas party, I’ve been a little jealous about you and Jaehyun.” Mark won’t meet your eyes, and you give him the space to continue. “I just… people are always hitting on you, and I don’t know, I think… I mean, I’m a serial monogamist according to Hyuck, and I know we haven’t been seeing each other for that long, but I only see you, in all ways, and I just… I don’t want to lock you down if you’re not looking for something serious, but I guess I wanted to know how you feel about exclusivity and that sort of thing.”

“With you? Mark… I’d love to be exclusive.” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t you realize that I have to watch girls flirt with you too? Maybe we’ve both been jealous.  I think… locking each other down would be good for us.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s beaming now.

“You’re special,” you confess. “I’ve never been able to sleep next to a guy I’ve slept with, which feels like such a contradiction- but sleep has always come easy with you. I’ve never felt such a lack of pressure- such acceptance, for all of me, the good and the bad. I like you a lot Mark, and I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”

“It’s not that it wasn’t clear,” Mark assures you, cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I just… I know you have that wild side, which is totally valid, I just wasn’t sure you were a settling down type.”

“I wasn’t so sure I was either, and then I met you.”

Mark kisses you instead of responding, but you can feel the emotion in the press of his lips against yours. He’s elated by what you’ve just said, and you’re close to floating to cloud nine too. 

Even so, there’s something else. You can feel it in the slight tension of his shoulders when your fingers brush over his skin.

“Mark?” you break the kiss, blinking at him. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“It’s just… I know I said there’s no pressure, but I really wanna help you cum. And I’ve been thinking maybe… maybe we could use some of your toys.”

“My toys?”

“Like… some girls cum better with a vibrator, and if you have one, I’d love to use it on you.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Lots of men think their dick is good enough, they feel emasculated to bring sex toys into the mix- but here’s Mark, being as contrarian as ever. 

“Even if it doesn’t help you cum, I still think it would be fun. I’m not trying to pressure you-”

“We can use my vibrator,” you assure him, heart thundering in your rib cage at the mere thought of it. 

No man has ever used a sex toy on you- it’s probably one of the reasons you’ve never cum with a lover before.

“Come on,” you sit up, heading to your bedroom while Mark follows. “I keep my toys in the closet,” you explain, bending down to find the shoe box that stores your vibrator. You pull the device out, showing it to Mark. “Is this going to work?”

“Yeah, it will work.” Mark watches you stand up, and he holds out his hand for you to pass the toy to him. “I’m uh… I’m gonna put this down so I can get you naked.”

“Okay,” you grin.

He sets the vibrator on your bed gently, turning to you. Mark grabs your face first, pulling you in for a kiss. He’s gentler than you thought he would be, but you don’t mind it. You like getting lost in the feeling of Mark, allowing him to guide you toward the bed.

When you reach your mattress, his hands slip down to the hem of your shirt. He carefully removes it, and you lift your arms to help him with the task. Mark doesn’t immediately go for your pants next, he kisses you again instead, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other grabs the small of your back.

His touch is so gentle, smoothing across your skin. It’s making you even more eager, and you find yourself removing his shirt before he begins to work on your sleep shorts. Soon, you’re just in a bra and panties, but even those get taken off. 

When you’re completely bare, Mark gently pushes you down onto your bed, eyes taking in your body.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he muses.

Your skin heats at the praise, and you begin to close your thighs, only for Mark to gently prompt them open. 

“Don’t hide from me, please,” Mark says softly, getting onto his knees at the foot of your bed. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your clit before he pushes his tongue into your wet hole.

You breathe a sigh of relief, threading your fingers through his hair. You adjust your thighs on his shoulders, trailing your toes against his well-defined back. 

He eats you out for a little while, groaning as he goes. It’s clear to you now that Mark enjoys getting his fill of you, and it makes the experience ten times more enjoyable for you. You’ve been getting better at slowing your mind while Mark licks at your clit, better at focusing on him and not all the worrying thoughts that generally buzz around you.

You feel the bed shift, and you open your eyes to see Mark has reached for the vibrator. He turns it on, assessing the way the toy shakes on the lowest setting. “Do you wanna show me where to use this, sunshine?” he asks, holding it out to you.

With a deep breath, you nod, accepting the toy and bringing it to your clit. “I like… a good amount of pressure,” you tell him, showing him exactly where you like the vibrator to be held.

It feels kind of odd to be pleasuring yourself like this in front of Mark, but from the way his pupils are blown, eyes fixed completely on your core, you can tell that he’s enjoying the view. It makes you feel more confident, as you begin to drag the vibrator side to side, teasing yourself. 

“This sort of movement is good too,” you tell him.

“Can I take over now?” he asks.

You nod, allowing him to grab the handle of the toy. 

Now that you’re not the one holding it, you can focus completely on the feeling of your clit being vibrated. It feels amazing, your toes curling at the stimulus.

Mark’s free hand is on your inner thigh, smoothing against your skin, but soon, it joins the vibrator. He teases two fingers along your folds before pushing them into you, crooking them up to find the spongey spot that has you crying out.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Mark tells you, applying more pressure to your clit with the vibe. “Fuck, I could watch you like this all night.”

“Puppy-” you whimper, skin tingling at his words.

“You have no idea how good you look,” he continues. “I swear- I want you to cum, but even if you don’t, I’m not going to be able to forget about this. This view is- fuck, it’s the best view in the world. We’re going to be at work and this is all I’ll be thinking about. I won’t be able to get you out of my head.”

With each admittance, each uttered word of praise, you can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach.

“Can you grind on this a little, sunshine? Grind on my fingers and your toy?”

“Yeah-” you whimper, hips moving as you try to follow with his prompt. 

“That’s it-” Mark groans. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

His fingers work harder inside of you, and the added pressure makes you squeal. You can’t help the way one of your arms comes up to cover your face, muffling your sounds as your body moves on it’s own accord now. You’re grinding against his hand, grinding against the vibrator that sends tremors of pleasure through your entire form.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” Mark tells you. “So lucky that you’re mine- I could watch you like this for hours and not get bored.”

“Mark-” you groan. Usually, when you acknowledge an orgasm building, it dissipates, like some cruel trick of fate, a complete defiance of the laws of physics- but this time, when you whimper “I’m close” the feeling doesn't fade, it only builds.

“Yeah?” Mark sounds shocked. “All it took was a vibe, huh?”

“And… and your praise-”

“You like when I talk dirty to you, sunshine?” Mark asks. “Like it when I tell you how perfect and pretty you are?”

“Yes-”

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Or should I finger fuck this cute little pussy even harder?”

“Oh my God-” you whimper. Mark has truly gotten comfortable with you now- he’s not holding back with his sinful words, and they make your stomach pull into a tight knot. “Please, harder-”

Mark presses the vibrator against your clit, turning up the vibration with his thumb while his fingers continue their brutal pace inside your core.

You find yourself gasping, unable to speak as he works you closer and closer-

“Cumming-” you whisper, your orgasm slamming into you like a train. 

Your breath catches, waves of pleasure surging through you. Your fists grip the sheets, your back arches, your thighs quaking around Mark. Whimpers and moans fill the room, your core pulsating around Mark’s fingers while he works you through your high.

“That’s it,” Mark groans. “That’s my good girl.”

“Puppy-” you breathe, the feeling almost becoming too much for you.

“What do you need, sunshine?”

“Your cock,” you blurt out. 

“Yeah?” Mark’s fingers slow inside your pussy. 

“Please, wanna cum on your cock-”

Mark lets out a breath. “Holy fuck.” He turns the vibrator off, taking his digits from your core. Mark licks them clean before he stands up, pushing down his sweatpants. “Move up the bed for me?” he suggests.

You wiggle up to the pillows, watching Mark get onto the mattress. He allows you to lock your legs around his hips, pulling him close while he crashes his lips to yours.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him deeply. He ruts his hips, allowing you to feel his cock dragging against your core.

Patience is a virtue, but you don’t have any left. You reach between your bodies, grabbing his hard length to line it up with your pussy. 

Mark slides into you, and you let out an immediate sigh of relief. His fingers had been nice, but his cock is even better. It stretches you open, you can feel him deeper than ever. You gasp against his mouth, dragging him closer as he begins to thrust into you. 

“You feel so good, sunshine,” Mark groans, breaking the kiss so he can press his lips to your throat. 

“Puppy-” you whimper, arching your neck so he has better access to find your sweet spot.

Mark captures your hands, lacing your fingers and pressing you into the bed while he fucks you. 

You can feel him everywhere. You’re completely bewitched by Mark Lee. Your core is practically dripping, each thrust made easy by the wet that exudes out of you. 

Then Mark is reaching for your vibrator. He sits up slightly, looking down at you. “Missionary? Or maybe doggy would be better?”

“I wanna see you when I cum again,” you tell him, accepting the vibrator he holds out to you. “Want you to see me cum with your cock in my pussy.”

Mark lets out a low groan, pressing his lips to yours as you turn on the toy, adjusting it onto your clit.

“If you can’t cum, that’s okay-”

“I think I’ll cum,” you assure him. “Just fuck me hard, and I’ll get there.”

“I can do that,” Mark grins, immediately picking up his pace and adding more power to his thrusts.

“And… tell me I’m pretty again?”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Mark groans. “I’m so fucking lucky- how did I ever get this lucky?”

“Puppy-”

“You have no idea how into you I am- I love your sounds, love your voice- love the face you make when you feel good- love your smile-”

Each admittance has your heart buzzing in your chest. It’s crazy how easy it is for him to praise you- it almost feels like all these things were built up inside, like he’s a dam that’s just been released, and God, you love the flood.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, entire body surging with energy. 

“You’re squeezing me so well, baby,” Mark groans, and the sound has your pussy throbbing. “Want you to cum with me so bad, do you think you can cum with me?”

“Yeah, just- kiss me?” you suggest.

Mark presses his lips to yours immediately, cupping your face with one hand. His tongue glides against your own. You eat up each other's sounds, getting completely lost in each other.

In no time at all, another orgasm is building in the pit of your stomach. 

“I’m gonna-” you whimper against his lips.

Mark fucks you even harder in response, and the motion is dizzying. 

“Please, sunshine, cum with me- fuck, I can’t hold it, cum with me-”

His words are your last straw as you explode on his cock. Your core clamps down hard, gasps of extacy escaping you.

To Mark’s credit, he holds off his own high long enough to fuck you through yours, and the moment you begin to be oversitmulated, he cums too. You can feel his cock throbbing in your pussy, his load spilling along your insides and coating your walls.

You kiss him deeply, enjoying his whimpers of pleasure.

You’ve never cum with someone balls deep inside of you before, and there’s a voice in the back of your mind itching for you to tell Mark that you love him- but you bite your tongue. You simply kiss him, holding him close while he finishes.

Finally, Mark lets out a small gasp, pulling away from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily.

You’ve never felt this connected to someone in your entire life.

“Are you going to get us tissues?” you ask after a moment, letting out a small laugh.

Mark chuckles, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “I just wanna enjoy you a second longer.”

“Puppy, you have literally all the time in the world.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I really wanted to kick the year off with something more realistic. I wanted to write about a reader who over thinks, who doesn’t cum super easily like we usually see in fanfic. I wanted to touch on the realism of relationships, the use of sex toys, things discussed in the bonus like whiskey dick, domestic showers together and troubles sleeping next to someone new- I really hope you guys liked this even though it’s not as classic fanfic as I usually write :) 

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “I drank too much,” Mark admits. “Hyuck kept egging me on- I’m pretty sure he wanted to get me blackout so I couldn’t fuck you tonight- But I swear- whisky dick won’t last all night,” Mark tells you. “And, I mean, you know I love using your toys so it doesn’t even matter.” He’s adorable. Of course Hyuck wouldn’t take into account that sometimes Mark is perfectly happy making you cum with your toys and not fucking you at all. Mark truly is a man built for your pleasure, and you’re not surprised that ‘whiskey dick’ hasn’t phased him.

cw/ tw. drunk!Mark, shower shenanigans, fingering, pussy eating, use of toys/g spot stimulator, Mark has ‘whiskey dick’ and can’t get hard at first, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, munch!Mark, creampie/fullness kink, etc…  I petnames. (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 starring. Mark x afab!Reader

bonus

“Puppy?” You sit up in bed, holding your phone close. Mark’s at some boys night thing, and you really hadn’t expected to hear from him, but here he is, calling you at midnight.

“Hi, Sunshine.” 

“Hi Sunshine!” Someone else screams in the background.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Hyuck!” Mark yells back. “Not you, baby, I’m talking to Hyuck.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, “I gathered that.”

You’ve also gathered that your boyfriend is drunk. You can hear it in his voice, and when he begins to hiccup, it’s even more evident.

“So uh, I wanna see you.”

“You can see me tomorrow, we have dinner plans, right?”

“No, I wanna see you tonight and tomorrow,” Mark insists. 

“You do, huh?” God, he’s adorable.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t you want to finish boys night?” you prompt, not wanting to get in the way of his time with friends. You know Jeno would get mad about Mark spending time with his ex instead of his boys, and you don’t want to be that girlfriend who restricts her lover from his bros.

“Nah, fuck this,” Mark says. “Jeno went home with a girl, it’s just me and Hyuck and Renjun and Chenle and Jaemin and Jisung-” Sweet Jesus, he’s listing half of your work staff. “But I wanna be with you. I can call a cab and be at your place in like, fifteen minutes?”

“Whatever you want, puppy,” you grin. “I’ll be here.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here

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general taglist

@gotshinct - @subhyuck - @fraechan - @learnthisfeeling

@runahways - @d-abin - @milkteade - @woogyuhae 

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✘ nct taglist

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Thank you to those who interacted with the teaser

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@stolasisyourparent - @icedearlgreytea

[just-jordie-things]

kiss cam surprise - gojo satoru

word count: 2.8k warnings: none! :) summary: when (y/n) kisses shoko during a kiss cam at a baseball game, satoru gets a little ~jealous~ this is half fluff half crack tbh lol a/n: ok i don't take fic requests but someone dropped this in my ask box awhile ago and it resurfaced in my mind so... ur a lucky duck. also! if u like kiss cam fics y'all should check out kiss cam! by @naosaki <3 one of my fav megumi fics <3 ___

For being at an event that they couldn’t care less about, Shoko and (y/n) had been on their best behavior for the entirety of the baseball game.  Satoru and Suguru had been so excited to gift the tickets to the girls so they could join them in a fun outing, that they’d tried their best to accept the offer graciously.

Even though neither of them had any interest in going.  It was obvious when the tickets were presented to them, from the awkward smiles they’d worn to the way their eyes shifted towards one another as if to make sure the other was thinking the same thing- why wouldn’t they just go on their own? 

Shoko and (y/n) would’ve happily spent the day doing their own thing had Satoru and Suguru gone to the game just the two of them.  Maybe some light shopping, or maybe they’d hole up in one of their rooms and eat junk and watch romcoms all day.  Either way… any activity would have been more entertaining to them than this.

They barely even knew the rules of the game, only cheering when the guys did, and sharing knowing looks when they tried not to laugh at just how uninterested they were.

Still, they did their best to participate.  Both glad in the same colors of the cheap merch Satoru and Suguru had treated them to.  (y/n) was in a jersey too big for her that hung off her body awkwardly, and Shoko wore a hat with a bill that wouldn’t stop dipping over her eyes, but they didn’t complain.  They were very good sports for their friends, only sneaking off for a smoke break one time.  They even made a few trips for snacks and drinks so that Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t miss any of the games.  Sure, maybe they were trying to stretch their legs and ease the ache in their butts from the uncomfortable plastic seats, but they had the right intentions!

“This is fun, right?” 

When (y/n) turned to him, Satoru was beaming from ear to ear.  His sunglasses were slipping down his nose due to the way his ball cap bumped into them, and his bright eyes seemed to hold even more light from his obvious joy.

She couldn’t lie to him if she wanted to.  It was too cute to see him this excited just from sharing the experience with his friends.  He’d had his arm draped over the back of her seat for the majority of the game, and whenever his team got the upper hand, he’d eagerly tap or shake at her shoulder to involve her in the hype.  (y/n) was grateful for the que to pay closer attention to what was happening, but she did fluster and blush every time he’d touch her.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who would knowingly knock her elbow from her other side, a small smirk on her face when (y/n) would peek at her from the corner of her eye.  She tried to ignore the silent teasing, but after a while it got hard with how much it was happening.

With a smile and a nod of her head, Satoru’s expression lit up even more.  “Yeah, I’m actually having a really great time,” She said.  It didn’t matter that she was more interested in all the attention he’d been giving her than the great seats they had for the game.  He didn’t need to know that part.  “We should do this more often” She adds before thinking.

Once again, Shoko’s elbow was bumping into hers, and this time a less-than-discreet snort could be heard.  (y/n) sent her elbow back into hers in retaliation, silently scolding her for eavesdropping.

“Yeah?” Satoru fixes his cap so that he can push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose.  “Tickets weren’t that expensive, we could go to more games this season, if you want?” He suggests.

Bullshit, she thinks with a smile telling him that’s exactly what she was thinking.  Nothing was expensive to the Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah, maybe” She says without much commitment.

Going to baseball games just the two of them? The idea had her heart soaring.  Having to sit through a game that could take more than three hours was less than ideal.

Soon enough a break in the game came, the announcers hyping up the crowd with some silly chants and trivia on the big screen.  (y/n) found herself slumping down into her seat, aimlessly tapping around on her phone to pass the time.  She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the change in game on the big screen, that is until there was a hand smacking at her shoulder again.

Looking up, she’d almost expected to see the game in motion again.  Satoru had only been tapping at her like that when an exciting play was in action.  However this time, he’s pointing up at the screen.

She gapes when she sees that she’s displayed on the screen.  The camera has a wide angle that includes Shoko and Satoru on either side of her, the words Kiss Cam spelled out in pink cursive above them.  It’s complete with lipstick stains and sparkles for dramatic touch.

“Oh my god” She mumbles, hoping that her blush is undetectable by the camera, seeing as her face felt scorching hot from embarrassment.

The longer the camera is focused on her, the rowdier the crowd around her becomes.  Eagerly chanting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ like a bunch of teenagers at their first house party.

Satoru is grinning so hard his face hurts.  This was like a dream come true.  The easiest excuse in all of history to get a kiss from the girl he’s had a crush on since he was fifteen was just presented to him on a silver platter- and the crowd’s cheering only spurred him on further.

Even Suguru is giving him a smirk and a nod of approval.  He’d heard more earfuls than most about the ins and outs of Satoru’s feelings for (y/n).  Although on occasion, Shoko or Nanami were on the receiving end of his lovesick rambling.

His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he turns to (y/n).  His smile is starting to hurt and for a second he realizes he’s going to have to relax to actually kiss her.

“Are you okay with-?” 

The question barely comes out before he’s cut short.

(y/n) had already turned away from him, swiveled in her seat to face Shoko.  It’s like he’s watching it happen in slow motion.

They both giggle at their idea, and (y/n) takes off Shoko’s hat while she’s quickly tucking her hair behind her ears to clear her face.  And then time goes back to normal and all too quickly, Satoru watches as they lean towards each other to share a kiss.

It’s just a peck, so swift and chaste it’s over as soon as it happens.  The crowd hollers and then are just as quickly getting excited over the next unsuspecting pair on camera.

(y/n) and Shoko laugh a bit more before sitting back in their seats, going back to their phones and striking up conversation about some anime they’d been interested in.  Both, or at least (y/n), completely oblivious to the offended gape on Satoru’s face.

That was totally his kiss, after all! It was his perfect moment to finally take things to the next level with his long time friend that he’d harbored a crush on.

To make matters worse, Shoko wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, sending a smirk his way when (y/n) was too focused on her phone.  He scowled back at her.  She knew about his crush! She knew he was going to go for that kiss!

With a huff, he stood up from his seat and made his way out of the stands.  He needed a bottle of water, or a snack, or just some damn space away from his so-called friend that was teasing him for snatching his kiss.

Satoru leaving so suddenly finally perked (y/n’s) attention.  He was gone too fast for her to call after him, but she worriedly watched him scale the steps with ease as he headed towards the hall of vendors.  She locked eyes with Satoru, raising a brow in silent question.

“He’s just being pouty,” Suguru replied casually, shrugging his shoulders before turning back towards the field.  “You wanna go after him? Be my guest” 

(y/n) sighed, turning the other direction towards Shoko.

“What’s he so pressed about?” She mutters.  “What even happened?” 

Shoko rolls her eyes, a lazy grin stretching on her lips.

“I dunno,” She says in a teasingly melodic tone of voice, suggesting she knew exactly what set their friend off.  “Maybe pluck up some courage and go ask him?” 

With another sigh of defeat, (y/n) slumped back into her seat, her thumbnail wedged between her teeth as she mulled over the idea.  A nervous flutter settled in her chest, a persistent buzz of confusion and anxiety distracting her even more so from the game starting up again.

When she suddenly shot out of her seat, muttering some excuse about needing to stretch her legs before she raced up the stairs in the direction she’d seen Satoru head off towards.

Two sets of eyes watched her as she hurried off.  Suguru and Shoko locked eyes once she was out of sight, both of them snickering between themselves.  It didn’t exactly take an active imagination to know exactly what was coming next. 

To her surprise, (y/n) found Satoru as soon as she left the stands.  Moping around the upper part of the arena with a half-empty bag of cotton candy.  She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, effectively getting herself caught by him.

“Why’re you up here eating your feelings?” (y/n) speaks first, eyes narrowed inquisitively.  Satoru scoffs as she approaches him, snatching a piece of the pink sweet right out of his hands.

“I’m not eating my feelings” He replies unconvincingly, digging the hole deeper as he shoves a rather large piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is impossible to hide.

“Sure,” She remarks.  “You’re totally not pouting right now.  C’mon just fess up.  What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting.  My friend betrayed me, I think I’m right in being upset about that?” It’s a rhetorical question, followed by another shove of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) frowns.

“Betrayed you?” She repeats.  “Did I miss something? Who betrayed you?” 

Satoru groaned, tossing the remainder of his cotton candy into the trash dramatically.  (y/n) had to resist the urge to laugh, not understanding where this whole little tantrum came from.

“Shoko! Obviously! I mean she knew that that kiss was-!” 

He stops mid sentence, realizing where this outburst was going to lead him if he didn’t relax and go back to his usual suave demeanor.  (y/n) shook her head in confusion, her brows pinching together.

“Was what?” She asked, a breathless laugh escaping her.  “Meaningless? A joke between friends?” She suggested.  “You’re mad about a kiss?” 

“Of course I’m mad-! Well, I- I guess not mad, I’m not mad at her,” He stammered over his words, not knowing how exactly to explain the complicated feelings.

(y/n) tried to be patient while he stammered and struggled to make himself clear.  Mostly because she was partially amused by the whole thing.  Satoru prided himself in being what he called a smooth-talker, and while normally she’d laugh at him for that, it was a shock to see him behave the total opposite right in front of her.

“But that wasn’t exactly fair, I mean, she was just trying to rile me up.  And- like- yeah, that’s what we usually do, we pick on each other but that just- that just wasn’t fair! That was my kiss and she knew it! And she just-” 

“What do you mean ‘your kiss’?” 

Finally Satoru had been rendered speechless, his mouth still hanging open mid rant, jaw slacking a bit as he realized he’d gotten carried away.  (y/n’s) expression almost mirrors his, her eyes wide and lips parted, even as she holds her breath and waits for him to clarify.

But he’s completely frozen in front of her.

“Satoru,” She waves her hand in front of his face, trying to bring him back to reality.  “What did you mean ‘your kiss’?” She repeats, shaking her head at him.

“I- I just… I meant that-” 

Words are spilling out of his mouth without direction, without knowing what the hell the right thing to say was.  He’d known (y/n) for two years now, and in all of that time he’d been pretty proud of the persona he’d built up to be sure that he was always the cool one, the guy she could rely on to be smooth and popular.  He felt pathetic now, letting his own secrets slip and stuttering over himself like an idiot.

The corners of (y/n’s) lips twitched into a smile the longer he flustered over who-knows-what.  It catches his attention when she unintentionally lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry,” She apologizes right away.  “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.  I just… are you trying to say that you wanted me to kiss you? For the cam game?” 

She tries not to sound so hopeful that it comes across desperate, but the mere idea that Satoru had wanted a kiss from her had her chest thrumming with butterflies.

Satoru’s throat feels dry, and suddenly her gaze feels like a spotlight.  The intensity has the hair on the back of his neck standing up.  He pulls the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair to relieve the heat.

“Well… yeah,” He admits, sounding more bashful than she ever would have thought he was capable of.  Her small smile turned a little brighter, and he tried to get his voice back.  “Not that I need a silly game to kiss you, obviously-” 

“Obviously” She repeats the word fondly, giving him a small nod.

“But- s-still, the kiss cam, would’ve been… fun” He admits sheepishly.  She giggles, nodding her head again.

“Well, it was fun, for the record,” She teases, earning a roll of his eyes from behind his shades.  She steps closer to him then, a tilt in her head as she takes in the obvious nerves written on his face.  “But if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked” 

“I was going to,” He argued, his hands moving about erratically.  “It's not my fault Shoko beat me to it!” 

She giggled at his drama, reaching out and grabbing his hands as they flew around, still laughing as he froze up again from the sudden touch.

“You know, it didn’t exactly mean anything when Shoko did it,” She suggested.  “I know there’s not any cameras… but…” 

Satoru raised a brow.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” He gasped dramatically, “Are you asking me to kiss you?” 

Her cheeks tint pink as she bites back her smile, giving him a small nod of her head.  He smiles back at her, pulling his hands out of hers and dropping his hat so he could lay them across her jaw, tilting her head upwards so he didn’t have to lean down as far to reach her.  

She doesn’t wait a second longer for him, closing her eyes and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could press her lips against his.  Satoru’s quick to reciprocate, his fingers flexing against her skin, holding on as tight as he can without hurting her as he deepens the kiss right away.  She has to grab him by the shoulders to keep herself balanced.

His lips are soft, and taste sugary like the cotton candy he’d been eating.  She’d always thought he’d taste a little bit like sugar, what with how much of it he consumes.  It makes her smile to know first hand.

When they break the kiss, he steals one more quick peck from her, grinning with excitement before he pulls away so he can pick up his forgotten hat from the ground.

“Feel better now?” She teases as he slings his arm around her shoulder to head back towards their seats.

“Mhm,” He hums, pulling his cap over her head and smiling as it slips down her forehead.  He pokes it upwards with his index finger, then pokes the tip of her nose.  “But next game I bring you to, I get the kiss cam kiss, alright?” 

There’s a gleam in her eye and a blush on her face as she leans into him, matching his steps as they head down the stairs to their seats.  As shameless as ever, she can’t help but tease him.

“Then sit on my left next time” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[genderless-naper]

half asleep

trafalgar law x gf!reader

themes: sleepy reader, pillow humping, assisted orgasm w/ fingering, some sweet talk, desperation

waking up in the middle due to the cold couldn’t stop your mind from thinking dirty thoughts. law decides to help you when he sees you humping his pillow while you’re half-asleep

smut, wc: 1.4k, lowercase intended !

⇣ credits to original artist

the coolness of the polar tang wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. this particular night though was freezing cold. being wrapped up in a blanket with your lover wasn’t enough to keep you from waking up and shivering.

you look around the room hardly awake. you lifted your head from your boyfriend’s chest and looked at the clock which read 4am. you glanced up at law, who was slightly sat up, starring at the wall seeming to be lost within his own intricate thoughts. why he was awake at 4am was beyond your comprehension.

the sudden movement caused from you sitting up in bed made him look at you. surprised, he spoke to you in a soft tone, “oh you’re awake y/n? did you have a bad dream?”

you shook your head and muttered, “its freezing law. you don’t feel that??” you rubbed the sleep out your eyes.

once understanding the situation law responded, “i’ll get an extra blanket and a sweater for you. i’ll get some water too y/n-ya.” law preceded to wrap you in the single blanket that was not able to do you justice in the cold.

law makes his way out the room to fulfill your needs. you laid in bed wrapped in your blanket. the pillow next to you was positioned vertically. most likely from law moving it to sit up while you were asleep. you rolled to your side and lifted a leg to wrap around it.

your closed eyes couldn’t stop your mind from wondering. the picture of law still painted in your mind from when you woke up. something about his chest tattoo peeking through his shirt’s collar and his serious gaze as he was lost in thought. it all made him so handsome.

thoughts of your absent lover swirled in your mind, and made your body warm. you tightened your leg around the pillow to feel it press against your clothed core. you bit your lip as you proceeded to shift your hips back and fourth to rub the cloth core. the slight friction between you and the pillow was enough to part your lips and moan quietly. your pace slightly quickened, but it was still done with lethargic energy. as good as it felt you could still feel like you were about to fall back to sleep.

so distracted by your current task you failed to see your boyfriend walk into the room after getting the things you needed. he was taken aback from the sight of you rocking your hips against his pillow.

maybe it was his scent on the pillow that made it feel all the more better. either way it was obvious you were trying to reach a climax of pleasure. your laziness prevented you from being able to reach that point, so you drowsily humped law’s pillow hoping to reach an orgasm one way or another.

law makes his way over to you. he lets you continue your activity as he lays out a bigger blanket over your smaller one. it was heavy, so it weighed you down and staggered your already desperate attempts of satisfaction.

law sits back in bed and shares the blankets with you. your frustration from not being able to please yourself enough was starting to get to you. you shove the pillow to the other side and pull yourself closer to law.

law looked at his used pillow to see a wet spot from where you used to satisfy your core. it earned a chuckle from the man, “did you have fun y/n?” he clearly wanted to tease you.

you whined and rubbed your thighs together desperate for some kind of friction, “i can’t feel good.. too tired..”

law pulled you closer and let you rest your head on his chest, “do you need help so you can feel good? you just woke up so it might be harder for you to do it on your own.”

you nod tiredly. eyes barely opened you take law’s hand into your own, and pulled it under the blanket and towards your thighs.

law pushed your rubbing thighs opened, and ran his fingers against your cloth core. he could feel the outline of your pussy because your pants stuck against the wetness so well. it exposed you to your boyfriend’s fingers even though you were covered.

the new attention given to your core made you whimper. heading you made law feel bad for you, “don’t worry baby. i’m gonna help you feel good.”

you nodded mindlessly ready to take whatever your boyfriend was willing to do to your sleepy self.

his hand slowly made its way into your panties. you naturally spread your thighs more in order to grant him access. law appreciated your cooperation, “just relax and i’ll do the work. i’ll make sure you feel good y/n-ya.”

like a cue law began to brush his fingertips against your clit gently for you to adjust to it. the feeling if your boyfriend touching such an intimate part of you cause electricity to circulate inside you. he could make you feel good by doing the bare minimum.

law’s 2 fingers started in a circular motion around your clit. he circled around where he knew would be the most sensitive. he wanted to stimulate you as much as possible.

you shut your eyes completely letting the man do what he pleased in order for you to reach your peak. the sensations from your core travelled throughout your body pulling it closer to an edge.

law applied more pressure to his fingers tips. he slowed down his circular motions around your clit, and decided to start flicking motions. he moved his finger back and fourth against your sensitive bud. this earned slight moans from you.

law whispered encouragements into your ears, “you’re doing so good y/n-ya. i bet it feels good too doesn’t it sweetheart?”

you nodded to the man’s words sweet words as his fingers made you feel pleasures you would’ve never accomplished on your own with a pillow.

law continued, “you looked so gorgeous earlier. i wish i could always see you humping my pillow like that.” law abandoned your clit and made his fingers to your opening. his fingers naturally became coated in your core’s wetness.

you bit your lip, “i-i looked gorgeous?”

law hums, “absolutely beautiful. next time you should hump my thigh like that baby. i’d rather you use me than just my pillow.”

as law spoke he steadily pushes two fingers into your opening. the sudden action made you feel strangely full. you body naturally responded by rocking your hips against the fingers.

law continued his praises, but they went in through one ear and out the other. your mind felt absent while your body took in the pleasures of law’s long fingers pressing against your walls. you felt them go in and out, and you imagined his finger tattoos becoming covered because they repetitively make their way inside of you.

your whimpers start to become more vocal as your body climbed towards your climax. law continued to penetrate you with his two fingers, but skillfully used his thumb to rub your clit. he knew his actions were doing numbers on you by the way your body naturally tensed up, and how you became more vocalized.

you bit your lip, “law it feels so good, i-i think im close~”

law hums and quickens his pace, “then cum for me baby. i wanna hear you moan my name. who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?”

your body slightly arched up as your orgasm crept upon you. you moaned his name loudly, “law you make me feel so good! only you can make me feel so amazing~”

your orgasm washed over you turning you into a shaky moaning mess. you tightened around law’s fingers. he could feel his fingers inside of you become coated in your juices again. he pulled them out of your core and panties. he voluntarily sucked your juices off his fingers not wanting to waste a single drop.

you drew yourself closer to the man. you started to feel the exhaustion of the orgasm bearing over you. law found your middle-of-the-night horniness compelling. he also thought it made you cuter. knowing that he was the first thought on your mind after you woke up was satisfying for him.

law kissed your hair, “you should go back to sleep now sweetheart. it’s late.”

you barely responded, already on your path towards the realm of slumber, “you have to sleep too…”

law hums and gets comfortable with you by his side. he pulls your pillow so you two can share since you discarded of his earlier. he’d have to add washing his pillowcase to his to-do tasks for the next day.

masterlist

[usagii-bun]

PART 2|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+

PART 1 , PART 2

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor.

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 3 parts)

this is extra long cause i combined chapters 2 and 3 together from ao3 <3

word count: 12.3k

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

Alhaitham stumbled back into the apartment, the faint buzz of alcohol still lingering in his system. He was slightly tipsy, though not as far gone as his roommate Kaveh, who was practically hanging off his shoulder, muttering nonsense.

"Man, you’re so uptight, even when you're drinking," Kaveh slurred, squinting at Alhaitham as though he were the most complex puzzle in existence. "I swear, you could be at a rave and still look like you’re solving a theorem." He laughed, his voice echoing through the empty hallway.

Alhaitham rolled his eyes, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Maybe I just have better things to think about than your drunken rambling," he shot back, guiding Kaveh to the couch before retreating towards his study. He'd had enough of Kaveh's inebriated philosophies for one night.

But Kaveh, as persistent as ever, wasn't finished. "Why don't you ever just… loosen up? You're going to get wrinkles from frowning so much." He waved a lazy hand in the air. "You should find a cam girl or something. It'd do you some good."

Alhaitham stopped in his tracks, turning to glare at his roommate. "That's not exactly my thing, Kaveh."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Kaveh mumbled something else, but by then, Alhaitham had already shut the door to his study, the noise fading behind him. Sitting down at his desk, he stared at the open books in front of him, trying to push the absurd conversation out of his mind. But Kaveh’s words lingered—annoyingly so. Loosen up, huh?

He huffed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of Kaveh’s drunken comment gnaw at him. It was ridiculous, really. Alhaitham didn’t need to "loosen up" in the way Kaveh suggested. He was perfectly content with his routine. Yet, for some reason, his mind kept circling back to Kaveh’s joke.

Cam girls.

Without much thought, and more out of curiosity than anything else, Alhaitham pulled his laptop closer, typing out a quick search. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just mindlessly scrolling through the thumbnails of various profiles. None of them really caught his interest. It all seemed so superficial, so far from anything that would actually intrigue him.

Until he accidentally clicked on a profile.

He almost clicked out of it immediately, but something made him pause. The girl on screen—her features were soft, her expression carefully masked, but there was something in her eyes. Pain, discomfort, maybe? She shifted, and he could see she was trying to hide it, to maintain the performance, but she was clearly not okay.

Before he realized what he was doing, his fingers flew across the keyboard, tipping her to stop. He wasn’t sure why he did it. Perhaps it was the urge to help, or just the fact that he couldn’t stand to see someone in obvious pain without intervening.

A notification popped up on her screen, and she blinked, pausing in the middle of whatever she was doing. Alhaitham watched as she read his message, a look of surprise briefly crossing her face before she stopped, offering a small, grateful smile in return.

He could have left it at that. He should have. But something kept him there, his hand hovering over the request for a private session. It wasn’t about pleasure—not in the way Kaveh had implied. No, this was different. He was curious, intrigued by her reaction, her vulnerability. Before he could second-guess himself, he sent the request.

When the private session began, her demeanour was noticeably more relaxed. She wasn’t putting on the same kind of show for him as she might for others, and that suited him just fine. They didn’t talk much. He asked her if she was okay, she reassured him that she was, and for the most part, he just watched. Not in a voyeuristic way, but as if observing something—someone—he didn’t quite understand.

And when it was over, he left.

He hadn’t planned on returning. Alhaitham chalked the whole thing up to an odd impulse, one brought on by Kaveh’s careless words. Yet, as the days passed, he found his mind drifting back to her. To the softness of her features, the way her smile had changed once she knew he wasn’t there to demand anything from her. The way she had looked so at ease, even in that strange, intimate setting.

It didn’t take long before he found himself on the site again. And again.

This time, he didn’t stop at curiosity. He began to indulge, slowly, cautiously, but undeniably drawn to her. There was something about her presence—her calmness, her smile—that tugged at him in ways he didn’t fully comprehend. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, or maybe it was the contrast between her work and the moments where she let her guard down. Whatever it was, it kept pulling him back.

As the days slipped by, Alhaitham found himself returning to the site more often than he expected. It had started innocently enough, just curiosity, but now something deeper tugged at him. He’d try to focus on his work, bury himself in books, but she was always there, lingering in the back of his mind.

One night, after yet another exhausting day, he found himself logging in again, the familiar tension rising in his chest. He clicked onto her profile, waiting for the livestream to start. When she appeared on screen, his breath caught. She was wearing soft, black lingerie, the delicate lace hugging her body in a way that made his pulse quicken. There was something about the way she carried herself tonight—subtle, alluring, but also personal. Intimate, almost as if this performance wasn’t for the masses but for him alone.

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the screen casting a soft glow over his face as he watched her. She was teasing, slow and deliberate with her movements, but what really held him captive was the way she seemed… comfortable. Confident. It wasn’t just a performance anymore, and that realization stirred something in him.

When she shifted, her fingers trailing over her skin, he felt a heat pool low in his stomach. His gaze was fixed, his mind lost in the rhythm of her motions. He tried to keep himself detached, like he had before, but this time it was different. This time, he couldn’t stop the slow, building desire creeping through him.

She began to interact with her chat, answering questions with a soft, teasing smile, but it felt like her attention was elsewhere—on something more personal. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Alhaitham couldn’t shake the feeling that she was aware of him watching, that she knew he was there. As if the connection they had in that first private session hadn’t been fleeting.

And when she finally glanced at the camera, eyes half-lidded, her fingers trailing lower over the soft fabric of her lingerie, something snapped in him.

Before he could stop himself, he sent a request for a private session. The notification appeared on her screen, and her lips curled into a small, knowing smile. She accepted immediately, and the screen shifted, blocking out the rest of the audience until it was just the two of them.

The atmosphere was different this time—heavier, charged with an unspoken tension. She didn’t waste time with pleasantries, her fingers moving with more intent, a soft hum escaping her lips as she settled into the space they now shared. Alhaitham’s eyes followed every movement, the heat building inside him impossible to ignore now.

“Enjoying yourself tonight?” she asked, her voice low and sultry, though there was a flicker of genuine curiosity behind her words.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry as his nimble fingers typed a response.

User1102: You could say that.

Her lips parted in a slow smile as her hands continued their path across her body, teasing the lace of her lingerie aside just enough to reveal more of her soft skin. “You seem… different tonight.”

Alhaitham's fingers tightened around the edge of his desk. He wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but she wasn’t wrong. There was something about tonight, about her, that had shifted. Maybe it was the soft glow of her room, or the way the pink fabric contrasted against her skin. Maybe it was the knowledge that this moment was private, just between the two of them, that made everything feel more… intimate. More real.

He watched, entranced, as she slipped her hand lower, her breath hitching slightly. His pulse quickened, the tension in his body almost unbearable now. He could feel his own restraint slipping, the lines he had drawn for himself blurring.

This wasn’t just curiosity anymore. This was something else entirely.

His fingers quickly typed up a response, his breath already shallow as his eyes lingered at the top of her supple breasts.

Alhaitham didn't know what to feel but the feeling of his cock already straining against his pants, he's about to get his money's worth.

He was shirtless already due to the warm summer but he was already racking

up a cold sweat, he unbuttons his pants and pulls out his cock, hissing as it throbs at the sight of her in lingerie.

User1102: why don't you surprise me today, take control.

Her eyes glistened at his reply as she giggled. Her hand reaching out behind her as Alhaitham’s eyes widen.

"Fuck" He groans out, body shuddering at the large dildo she had in her hand. Her eyes flickering from the camera to the dildo as her lips trailed along the length of it sensual.

He watched with keen eyes as she brought the dildo down to her puffy pussy, juice already leaking from the hole— so much that she didn't even need lube to lubricate the dildo.

Alhaitham’s fist wrapped loosely around his hard cock, the veins pulsating against his hand as his brain became foggy.

He watched as she slowly pushed the tip inside of her, her pussy clenching tightly at the tip a high pitch moan escapes passed her parted gloss lips. Alhaitham's hand glided up his cock and to the tip as he squeezed it, imagining it was his big cock pushing through her tiny pussy.

He mimicked her pussy with his hand, imagining how tight she must be as she slowly pushed the dildo inside of her. Her thighs shaking, sweating glistening on them as she quickly reached down with her other hand to play with her puffy clit.

Alhaitham reached out with his one hand to type in a response as his cock was pulsating in his fist.

She was waiting for his next command even though he gave her the green light to do her own things.

User1102: such a good bunny. Such a good girl for me. Your pussy looks so stuffed, wished it was my cock in their instead.

Her eyes skimmed through the message, a messy moan leaves her mouth as she moves the dildo in her , a sloppy sound being her.

"I w-wish it was your cock. F-feels so good, would feel so much better if it was your thick cock in me-ahh" her words came out in a moan at the end as Alhaitham started moving his fist tightly on his cock to match the rhythm of her moving the dildo in her.

If he was there, he would move much faster. Pound her tight pussy until she was overflowing with his cum.

you’re so pretty, cheeks flushed and lips parting into the perfect orgasm face as your shaking arm reaches for your clit, eyes so hooded that you can barely see the screen in front of you.

Alhaitham’s hand pumps his cock a little faster, following the rough and fast circles you’re subjecting your aching clit to. He allows himself to groan loudly, gripping the arm of the chair as he thrusts up into his hand, pre-cum spilling over his shaft.

your high pitched moans are music to his ears and the twitching of your legs are proof of the pleasure that he’s indirectly causing.

your head’s thrown back, exposing your neck as your hips roll against the dildo, juices from your cunt sliding down your ass as it drenches the sheets below you.

“s-sir please! can i cum? please let me cum! i’ve been a good girl!”

tingles run down Alhaitham's spine as he hears your whiny voice beg.

His hand reaches out to type a quick response as his other furiously jerks his pulsating cock.

User1102: cum for me.

The chair creaking as he fucks his hand and your eyes scan the chat, you pinch your clit and scream, body convulsing as you cum all over the dildo.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck! i’m cumming !” you wail, back arching off the bed. your body stiffens at the uncomfortable position as a stream of clear liquid shoots out of your pussy, drenching your soiled sheets even more.

Alhaitham follows suit, moaning as white spurts of cum shoot out of his cock, staining his thighs and abs. eyes dark and mind hazy from his orgasm, your eyes are heavy and lidded when you sit up, chest heaving and nipples aching as the toy slowly leaves your pussy, whining as you feel your juices slide down your ass.

Alhaitham's eyes widen when you fumble around the dildo and pulled the toy that’s shining and glistening with your essence.

you put the wet and warm toy in your mouth, sucking and licking like you would on a real cock. Alhaitham groans, closing his eyes as he hears you moan, tasting yourself on the toy.

The sound going straight to his cock again as images start to form in his mind, imagining you doing that to him, choking on his cock before he grabs your hips, giving ut a squeeze and slaps your ass, entering your needy pussy in one hard thrust.

you practically crawl towards the laptop, eyes sultry and inviting before you pull the toy out of your mouth with a wet pop and throw a dazzling smile at the camera, as if you didn’t get ruined by a silicone cock a few moments before.

“i hope you enjoyed the show, sir. but i wish it was your real cock that made me cum and squirt like that.”

with one last wink to the camera, you end the stream.

Alhaitham body slumped on his chair, eyes staring at the blank laptop screen as his gaze fell above him on his ceiling. His breathing erratic as his gazes falls on his cock that had harden once again.

'Fuck'

'Fuck'

Alhaitham stood at the entrance of the lecture hall, his usual calm exterior masking the storm of disbelief swirling inside him. His eyes scanned the room, moving over the rows of students until they landed on you. There you was—sitting in the back, casually leaning over your desk, looking as though you was about to drift off to sleep. You looked so different from the confident, alluring woman he'd been captivated by just last night, completely unaware of the private session that now hung heavy between them.

The sudden images of you sucking on the dildo flashed in his mind, your moan echoing in his head as he swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep moving, though his steps felt heavier. His thoughts raced. How could this happen? Out of all the people who could have been sitting in his classroom, it had to be you—the woman who had unknowingly shaken him to his core.

Clearing his throat, he stood at the front of the room, addressing the class. “There will be a pop quiz today, ” he announced, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of tension. The class erupted into groans as he forced himself not to roll his eyes "you would know this if you saw the email last night and prepared."

“Old-fashioned, on paper.” Alhaitham also stated as he began handing out the papers, his focus was everywhere but where it should be. He moved down each row, handing out the sheets with mechanical precision, his gaze subtly darting toward the back where you sat, unbothered by the sudden quiz.

Reaching your row, he slowed. You was sitting at the end, your usual nonchalance etched on your face as you glanced at the blank paper. He handed the quiz to the student beside you, who passed it down until it reached you. But something within him made him pause.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding the next sheet in his hand. As he approached you, your hands brushed—just for a moment, just enough to send a jolt of awareness through his entire body. Your skin was warm against his, and the contact sent an unexpected tingle up his arm. It was as if time froze, the casual touch sparking something deep inside him.

He pulled his hand back quickly, almost too quickly, and felt the weight of your gaze lift to him. He could feel the heat rise to his neck, but he kept moving, walking down the next row as if nothing had happened.

But something had changed.

Alhaitham sat at his desk, attempting to focus on the papers in front of him, but all he could think about was the feel of your skin brushing against his. His fingers still tingled, the sensation lingering in his mind far longer than it should have. He glanced up, watching as you lazily scribbled answers on your quiz, unaware of the storm brewing inside him.

He shook his head, mentally chastising himself.

' You’re her professor. This cannot happen.'

His gaze falls back on his laptop, an email from the Dean of the university had popped up. His eyes furrow to see that she would like to talk to him after his current lecture. An annoyed sigh escaping past his lips.

'Great. They problem want me to do something for them.'

And he was right.

Alhaitham leaned against the wall of the dean’s office, arms crossed, his mind a tumultuous storm of conflicting thoughts. Rukkhadevata sat across from him, a knowing look in her eyes as she shuffled through a few papers on her desk. The room was adorned with academic awards and a bookshelf brimming with scholarly texts, giving it an air of seriousness and authority.

“Alhaitham, I appreciate you coming by on such short notice,” she began, her voice calm and inviting. “I wanted to discuss an opportunity for a student who’s expressed a keen interest in linguistics and academia.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued yet wary. “Who is it?” he asked, though he already felt the shadows of doubt creeping in.

“Her name is [Your Name]. She’s in her fourth year, and I believe she could greatly benefit from shadowing you during your afternoon lectures with the first-year students.” Rukkhadevata paused, observing his reaction.

Alhaitham's brows scrunched in thought, he had heard the name a few times from other professors and also knows he has someone named that in his class but he don’t know how that person looks.

“I see,” he replied,, dryly. “But does she have the necessary background to assist? I teach advanced concepts that require a solid foundation.”

Rukkhadevata nodded, her expression resolute. “She’s demonstrated exceptional aptitude in her studies, particularly in linguistics. This experience could be pivotal for her. You know as well as I do that sometimes, a little guidance can ignite a passion for research and teaching in a student.”

Alhaitham contemplated her words, it would be a good learning ground for him to. Understanding the mind of a student and how they think when teaching a lecture but also it means his personal time in his office will be cut short as the student will need to shadow him.

“What if I’m not comfortable with the arrangement? There are other professors who can take her on,” he suggested, his tone more curt than intended.

“Alhaitham,” she replied, her voice steady and reassuring. “I understand your reservations, but I truly believe this is a unique opportunity for both of you. If you don’t take her on, there’s another professor, Tighnari, who would be more than willing to open the spot for her. He already has a student named Collei shadowing him but I don’t want her to miss out on this chance as you're qualified in the linguistics department.”

With a sigh, Alhaitham pushed himself off the wall “Very well,” he conceded, the words slipping out before he could fully process them. “I’ll take her on.”

“Great! I’ll inform her immediately. You’ll meet with her after her morning lectures, and we can discuss the schedule,” Rukkhadevata said, a pleased smile gracing her features.

As Alhaitham left her office, his mind drifted back to you. His mind in a turmoil not knowing what to do. How is going to lecture in a class knowing that he gets off to one of his students ?

The next day, Alhaitham sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on the clock as the minutes ticked by. Ten minutes late. His jaw clenched slightly. He didn’t tolerate lateness, especially not from someone who was supposed to shadow him. He hated wasted time, and this student had already made a poor impression.

Just as he was about to rise from his chair to leave the office to attend to other matters, the door creaked open. His irritation sharpened, but as the door swung wide, his thoughts ground to a halt.

His eyes widened as he realized you were standing in the doorway.

You walked into the room, slightly out of breath, looking a bit flustered. At first, it was just shock. Of all the students, of all the people—it was you, the cam girl he'd been watching for a month, the same girl who had held his attention in ways he couldn’t quite understand. Seeing you here, in front of him, outside of the screen and now close up, was a jarring collision of his two worlds.

For a moment, he was silent, his gaze trailing over you. You looked different in person, softer maybe, but still just as striking. His eyes flicked to the way your hair framed your face, the way you nervously shifted from foot to foot. But then reality hit him like a cold wave. You were here, standing in his office, his student.

He quickly masked his shock, his expression hardening. “You’re late,” he said, his voice colder than he intended, almost biting. “Ten minutes late.”

You blinked, clearly not expecting the harsh tone. “I’m sorry—I got a little lost.”

He let out a small, frustrated breath, trying to gather himself. “Being lost isn’t an excuse. If you’re going to shadow me, I expect punctuality. I don’t tolerate tardiness.”

You nodded, looking slightly out of place, like you weren’t sure where to stand or what to do with your hands. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”

He glanced at you again, his mind still whirling. He couldn’t believe it. The girl he had been watching from behind the safety of a screen, whose cam sessions had been a guilty distraction late at night, was standing right in front of him. And you had no idea who he was other than being your professor.

“Your name is Y/N, correct?” He forced his voice to remain steady, trying to push aside the surreal nature of this situation.

“Yes,” you answered, shifting under his gaze.

“Good,” he muttered, his hand tightening around the edge of his desk. He had to regain control of this conversation—this situation. He couldn’t afford to be distracted by you, not now, not ever. “We’ll start tomorrow. You’ll shadow me throughout the day. I’ll send you your schedule later.”

You nodded again, still looking somewhat nervous, and something about it tugged at him, though he immediately pushed the thought away.

He cleared his throat, trying to regain some normalcy in the moment. But the tension lingered, thick in the air. You noticed, of course, the subtle way he shifted, his eyes darting away from yours as if trying to hide something.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, your concern genuine, though you had no idea why he was acting this way.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, but then, catching himself, he softened his tone. “I’m fine. That will be all.”

You looked like you were about to say something more, but instead, you simply nodded and turned to leave.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His mind raced. He had thought about assigning you to someone else—maybe Tighnari—but now that idea seemed impossible. The thought of someone else mentoring you made him feel… unsettled. No, he would have to handle this himself, regardless of how difficult it might become.

He closed his eyes, letting the quiet of the room wash over him. Tomorrow, he would have to keep his distance, keep things professional. But even now, your face lingered in his mind, and he knew it wouldn’t be as simple as he hoped.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

It was the first day, and you were already regretting being assigned to shadow Professor Alhaitham. After how he had embarrassed you for being late for class and yesterday, you dreaded the idea of spending more time with him. He was a sharp-tongued, cold-hearted ass, but you couldn’t afford to pass up this opportunity. Shadowing him would be invaluable for your studies, even if his attitude grated on your nerves.

You glanced at your watch. It was almost 1 p.m., the time for Alhaitham’s first-year lecture. With a sigh, you reached into your bag and pulled out a compact mirror and lipstick, deciding to retouch it before the lecture started. As you carefully applied the soft shade to your lips, the reflection in the mirror shifted, and you caught sight of him standing at the doorway, staring at you.

Heat rushed to your face, and your hand paused mid-swipe. You could feel his gaze burning into you, intense and unwavering. His eyes flicked from your lips to your eyes in the mirror, and you quickly snapped the compact shut, turning around to face him with a flustered expression.

Alhaitham didn’t miss a beat. “I’m not sure why you’re putting on lipstick right before a lecture,” he remarked, his voice smooth but laced with the kind of dry sarcasm that left you unsure whether it was meant to insult or simply observe. “It’s not like that will help you retain the content better.”

Your blush deepened at the jab, but there was no real malice in his tone. It was just his way. You pursed your lips slightly, resisting the urge to snap back, instead choosing to stay silent. He crossed the room with that same calm, collected air he always had, handing you a stack of papers.

“You’ll need these,” he said, his tone shifting back to business. “I’m giving them a quiz—similar to what I did with your class the other day. After the lecture, you’ll stay back and mark them with me.”

You stared at the stack of papers in your hand, feeling the weight of both the physical and mental load. The thought of sitting with him after school, going through these quizzes together, made you groan under your breath, though not loud enough for him to hear clearly. The last thing you wanted was to spend more time than necessary with him, especially after his cold remarks the day before.

He raised an eyebrow at your reaction but didn’t comment, his expression unreadable. “Complaining won’t make the work go away,” he said mildly, as if already expecting your frustration. “Better get used to it.”

You forced a small smile and nodded, begrudgingly accepting your fate. There was no point arguing. You had signed up for this, after all.

As you followed Alhaitham into the lecture hall, the low hum of students settling into their seats filled the room. You tried not to think about how you’d have to sit with him for hours after school, marking these quizzes. The thought was frustrating, but you kept reminding yourself it was just part of the process. You could handle this.

You settled yourself at the front of the room, laying the stack of quizzes on the desk. Alhaitham began the lecture with his usual confidence, pacing in front of the first-years as he spoke. His voice was steady and sure, effortlessly commanding the room’s attention. It was infuriating how composed he always seemed, never faltering, never showing the slightest hint of emotion beyond his cool detachment.

You found yourself staring at him again, and it annoyed you. How could someone be so frustratingly perfect? His words flowed perfectly, understandable yet his aloofness made it difficult to even like him. It didn’t help that his eyes flickered in your direction occasionally, almost as if he was checking to see if you were paying attention.

Halfway through the lecture, he handed you the quizzes to distribute. You moved through the rows of students, handing them out with a forced smile. Some students gave you sympathetic looks, clearly sensing you were stuck with the task of marking them all later.

As the lecture ended, the bustling sounds of students leaving the hall began to die down. You stood at the back, waiting for the right moment to catch up to Alhaitham. Your fingers drummed nervously on the edge of your notebook, replaying the conversation from earlier in the day. You are stuck with him for the rest of the semester, shadowing his every move as part of the research assistantship you needed for your degree.

He’d embarrassed you once already, calling you out in front of the class on the first day for being late. Now, even though you couldn’t stand his arrogance, you couldn’t afford to let this opportunity go. The problem was, he knew that too. You saw it in his eyes when he handed you those quizzes earlier. There was something so self-assured about him, a smugness that made your blood boil. But still, he had that quiet, undeniable intelligence about him that, annoyingly enough, you found yourself drawn to.

By the time you reached his office, the sun had begun its descent, casting the room in a warm golden hue. Alhaitham's office exudes elegance and order. A polished mahogany table sits at the center, topped with a laptop, a pen, and leather-bound notebooks. Behind it, a high-backed leather chair adds authority and another simpler chair was seat across his table. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and files line the walls, matching the table’s dark wood. Soft light filters through a large window, highlighting a plush Persian rug beneath. A corner features two leather armchairs and a small coffee table, perfect for meetings, while subtle luxuries and framed art complete the space’s refined atmosphere.

Alhaitham's office mirrors his sharp, organized mind—sophisticated, orderly, and rich with knowledge.

 He motioned for you to sit down, his gaze lingering on you as you did.

“here is the quizzes for you to mark. Atleast today you start off with something light.” he said, handing you a fresh stack of papers, his fingers brushing yours again as they had earlier. A small, unintentional jolt of electricity ran up your arm from the brief contact, and you quickly withdrew your hand, focusing on the task in front of you. You tried to ignore the way his presence loomed across the desk, calm but somehow intense.

As you started marking, the silence between you grew thicker. It wasn’t the kind of silence that brought comfort—it felt like there was something unspoken, hanging heavy in the air between you. Every once in a while, you could feel his gaze shift toward you, studying you before returning to his own stack of papers. You nibbled on your bottom lip absentmindedly, concentrating on the quiz in front of you, when you felt it again—his eyes on you.

You looked up, catching him staring at you. His expression was unreadable, but there was a moment, a flicker of something in his eyes, before he quickly looked away. Your heart skipped a beat, your lips parting in surprise. What was going on with him?

After a few moments, he broke the silence. "Grab that book for me, will you?" He pointed to a high shelf behind you, his voice cool and even as ever.

You stood, walking over to the shelf and craning your neck to reach the book he’d indicated. It was too high, and as you stretched up on your tiptoes, your skirt began to lift slightly. You felt a twinge of annoyance as your fingers just barely grazed the edge of the book.

Behind you, Alhaitham remained silent, but unbeknownst to you, his eyes were locked on your figure. He couldn’t help but notice the way your skirt rode up slightly, revealing the plump of your tighs, those exact same thighs that were squeezed into tight sheer stockings, with liquid from your greedy pussy soaking them. He clenched his jaw, his thoughts racing despite himself. His mind wandering just how soft those thighs would feel arpund his head, squeezing him as he gets to feast on your pussy.  

He had to keep it together.

Finally, you gave up with a sigh, your arm dropping back to your side. Without a word, Alhaitham stood up and walked over to you, his tall frame easily reaching the book that had eluded you. 

"If you’re going to struggle, at least do it more efficiently," he muttered, the words laced with a faint edge of amusement.

You scowled at him. "You could have just taken the book yourself," you replied, trying to mask your irritation. His words weren’t exactly harsh, but there was always that intellectual superiority in his tone that grated on you.

He had a subtle smirk graced upon his lips "from what I've heard, my mentee should be hands down and do anything I ask." His voice putting more emphasis on 'anything I ask' his light turquoise eyes stare at you, something hidden behind the light glaze in them. You quickly look away, a red coat of blush on your cheeks as you walked back to the desk.

After you both settled back into marking the quizzes, the soft scratching of pens filled the small office space. It was quiet, but the air between you still buzzed with unspoken tension. You tried to focus on grading the papers, but your mind kept wandering to him—his presence just across the desk, the way his gaze sometimes lingered a little too long.

You were halfway through another quiz when a shadow loomed over you. Alhaitham had stood up and moved around the desk, coming to stand right behind you. His tall frame towered over your seated position, and you froze, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. The subtle scent of his cologne—clean, earthy, with a hint of something spicy—washed over you, clouding your mind and making it difficult to focus on the paper in front of you.

"Why do you think this answer is wrong?" he asked, leaning down slightly, his voice low and calm but close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath near your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, you forgot how to speak. You glanced at the paper, trying to recall what you had marked incorrectly, but the heat radiating from his body and the soft scent of his skin distracted you completely. The closeness of him was overwhelming—his presence, his scent—it all clouded your thoughts until you had to force yourself to snap back into the present.

"Uh… they got the concept of phonetics mixed up with phonology," you stammered, swallowing nervously. "Phonetics is about the sounds themselves, while phonology is about how those sounds function in particular languages."

Alhaitham said nothing for a moment, just staying there, hovering behind you. His proximity made your pulse race, and you could feel the warmth of his body just inches from yours. He leaned in a little more, his fingers tracing the lines of the quiz. Your heart was hammering now, and you cursed yourself for letting your mind wander so much.

"Good," he finally said, straightening back up and, to your surprise, gently patting your head.

The simple, unexpected gesture sent a rush of warmth straight to your cheeks. Your heart fluttered, and you were sure your face had gone bright red. You bit your lip, willing yourself to stay composed, but your thoughts betrayed you. The small pat—so casual, almost paternal—made your mind spin in ways you didn’t expect.

As he moved back to his seat, you sat there for a moment, frozen in place. You couldn’t help but think about how his hand had felt, the gentle pressure on your head, and the surprising warmth it brought. You shook your head, forcing yourself to focus again, but the thought lingered. What if he patted your head every time you gave the right answer?

The idea was ridiculous, but it made your heart race anyway. You could feel the heat rising to your face again, and you had to fight the urge to look at him. You wondered if he noticed how flustered you were, but when you glanced over at him, he was already back to grading, his expression unreadable, as always.

Keep it together, you scolded yourself. This was your professor, and you had to maintain some level of professionalism. But a tiny part of you—the part that was growing more curious about him by the minute—couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had noticed your blush.

After the marking, Alhaitham stood up again, gesturing for you to follow him as he headed to his bookshelf. You were still dazed from earlier, but you followed him. He asked you to grab a specific book from the top shelf, but again, it was just out of your reach. You stretched as far as you could, the hem of your skirt lifting slightly as you did. You could feel his eyes on you again, a little more intense this time.

He stepped forward, his presence suddenly looming behind you once more. His hand brushed yours as he reached up easily to retrieve the book. He didn’t say anything at first, but as he handed it to you, his lips quirked into a small, barely-there smirk.

"Struggling again, I see," he muttered, the words laced with that same intellectual superiority you’d come to expect from him. It wasn’t exactly mean, but it stung enough to make your cheeks burn.

You huffed quietly, taking the book from him and returning to your seat. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as he walked back to his desk, but you refused to meet his eyes, determined to ignore the strange tension that had only grown stronger between you.

The marking continued, but your focus was slipping. You kept sneaking glances at him, noticing the small things—how his fingers moved deftly over the papers, how his jaw tensed slightly when he was deep in thought. And then, there were those moments when his eyes would flick to your lips, just for a second, before he quickly looked away.

You absentmindedly nibbled on your bottom lip, a nervous habit you’d had for years, but this time, when you caught him staring at you, his gaze lingered a little too long. His eyes traced the movement of your lips, and for a brief second, something flickered in his expression. He quickly shook his head, as if clearing his mind, and returned to his work.

By the time you finished, the sun had set completely, and the warm glow from the office lamps cast a soft light over the room. Alhaitham glanced at the clock, his usual calm demeanor slipping back into place.

"It’s nearly past 5," he said, standing up and gathering his papers. "You’re dismissed."

You exhaled a sigh of relief, standing and grabbing your bag. As much as you had been dreading this day, it had passed more smoothly than you expected, though it had left you with far more questions than answers. There was something about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you.

As you both stepped outside, the cool evening air hit you, much cooler than you had anticipated. You rubbed your arms, feeling the chill sink in, and muttered under your breath, "Strange how chilly it’s gotten, even though it’s still summer."

Alhaitham paused, glancing over at you before shrugging off his coat. He held it out to you, his expression unreadable.

"Here," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

You blinked in surprise. "I’m fine, really. I don’t need—"

"Take it," he interrupted, his gaze steady.

After a moment’s hesitation, you took the coat, wrapping it around yourself. It was far too big on you, but it was warm, and the subtle scent of him clung to the fabric. The same scent that had distracted you earlier in his office now enveloped you completely, and it made your heart race all over again.

"Thanks," you mumbled, adjusting the coat around your shoulders.

He simply nodded, and the two of you continued walking in silence. The tension between you had shifted, but it was still there, just beneath the surface, and as you parted ways at the end of the path, you couldn’t help but wonder—was he thinking about you the way you were thinking about him? Did he know?

As you watched him walk away, the weight of his coat on your shoulders felt heavier than it should, like it carried with it all the unspoken words and lingering tension between you.

As you walk home, the weight of Alhaitham's coat feels heavier than it should, not just physically, but emotionally. The warmth still clings to you, along with that subtle, distinct scent that belongs to him—earthy, clean, and with just a hint of spice. It feels oddly intimate, like a lingering piece of him you hadn't expected to carry home with you. Each step you take, wrapped in his coat, makes you more aware of its significance. It’s just a piece of fabric, but the way it rests on your shoulders, warm and protective, makes it feel like more than that.

When you finally reach your apartment, you sigh, pulling the keys from your bag. Inside, you place the bag of takeout on the table with little care, too tired and too distracted to do anything but collapse for a moment. You peel off the coat, draping it on the couch, and immediately feel the loss of warmth as it leaves your shoulders. For a brief moment, you consider folding it neatly, but instead, you leave it there, trying to detach yourself from the way your thoughts kept wandering to him—your arrogant, handsome professor.

You settle at the table, opening the takeout container as your mind drifts back to the way he had looked at you earlier in his office. That gaze of his—intense, intelligent, and just a little too observant—had lingered far too long. You shake your head, trying to focus on eating, but it’s impossible. His voice, his presence, the feeling of his hand patting your head—it all keeps pulling you back.

You finish eating faster than usual, your thoughts occupied with him the entire time. As you pick up the coat from the couch to take it to your room, you catch a whiff of his scent again. You freeze, the familiar scent sending your mind spiraling into thoughts you shouldn’t be having. Images flash through your mind—his tall, strong build, the way he had stood so close behind you, his fingers brushing yours when you reached for that book. The fog of those inappropriate thoughts clouds your mind, and for a brief moment, you can’t stop wondering what it would feel like to be closer to him, how he looked under that dress shirt he wore today.

Shaking your head quickly, you scold yourself, forcing those thoughts away as you hang the coat in your cupboard, making a mental note not to forget it tomorrow. You won’t let it cloud your judgment any further. You take a deep breath, pushing those thoughts out of your head as you begin getting ready for your cam session.

As you're about to log in, your phone buzzes, pulling your attention away from the screen. You grab it, expecting some usual notification, but your eyes widen slightly when you see the message is from Alhaitham. You hadn’t even realized he had your number—until now.

Alhaitham: I got your number from the system. You’ll need to make a vocabulary list for the first-year lecture tomorrow. I’ve attached some resources to help. Be sure to finish this before class.

You groan, dropping your phone onto the bed. Of course, he’d send you more work just when you were about to start your cam session. You sigh deeply, throwing yourself back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. There’s no avoiding it—he's your professor, and as much as he irritates you with his superior attitude, you can't ignore his requests.

Sitting up, you rub your temples and switch gears, deciding to get the task done first. As much as you’d rather jump into your session, you can’t afford to leave it undone. You spend the next hour or so compiling the list, working through the vocabulary terms as your mind buzzes with thoughts of how annoyingly persistent Alhaitham is. He always seems to know just when to give you extra work, like he's testing your patience on purpose.

By the time you finally finish, it’s much later than you'd planned. 

You noticed something different as you scrolled through your cam site, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. User1102 didn’t show up tonight. In fact, he hadn’t for the past few nights. A wave of disappointment washed over you, though you weren’t sure why it bothered you so much. It wasn’t like you knew who he was. But still, he had always been there, watching, engaging, giving you a sense of consistency. Now, his absence felt louder than the other users’ presence, and you couldn’t help but feel a strange sadness.

Shaking off the thought, you closed your laptop and leaned back. It was just a coincidence, right? People came and went all the time on these sites. But as you prepared for bed, you found your mind wandering to him—wondering why he wasn’t there, wondering who he really was. Little did you know, Alhaitham had been avoiding the site ever since the first lecture.

It has now been nearly two weeks. From those two weeks you only spent about 6 days after lessons in his office helping with filling forms. You had gotten used to your routine with your professor, he gives you work to do, you do it and if he feels 'generous' he gives you a thick stack of papers to mark, now handing you long essays that make your brain ache. 

You noted that there was still an awkward tension between the two of you, he seemed to want to avoid you as much as possible. When you are alone with him, he would sit far from you but you could feel his sharp eyes on you from time to time. 

One of the days you wore a short skirt, the skirt was going to shorten Alhaitham's life. It showed your supple thighs, a pen fell. Cliché but you of course had to bend down to pick the pen in front of your poor professor who caught sight of your pure white cotton underwear.

 This lead to him dismissing you harshly to go home early. Poor little you thought you did something wrong, so the next day you went to apologize to him for anything you had done to annoy him, this caused the arrogant professor's heart to skip a beat, from that day on he started to talk to you in a calm tone. Alhaitham noticed you thrived on praises.

He once slipped and had called you a 'good girl' and gave your head a gentle pat, when you had completed a whole pile of essays, each one checked properly. Your face turned a pretty shade of pink. 

The words "t-thank you professor" stumbling out of your plump lips, this left Alhaitham's imagination to go wild that night, jerking off to his sweet student, who has such an innocent facade when she is fully clothed but when she is bathed in the LED lights of her room and wearing a sheer outfit..the innocence long gone.

 Alhaitham however, did stop watching her session as much as it pained him but he felt guilty to watch you now, knowing that you're his student and he is your professor..however the idea of bending you on the very desk the both of you shared always crosses his mind. 

It was the end of another long day, and you were packing up the last of your things in Alhaitham's office when you noticed the rain pouring outside, drumming steadily against the windows. The thought of walking home in that downpour made you shiver, and to make matters worse, you had forgotten your jacket. Again.

As you stood there, awkwardly rubbing your arms for warmth, Alhaitham appeared in the doorway. His expression was, as usual, unreadable, but his sharp eyes quickly assessed the situation.

“You forgot your jacket again,” he observed, his voice low and calm.

You gave a sheepish nod, not bothering to deny it. “Yeah, seems to be a habit at this point.”

Without a word, he slipped off his coat—the one he always wore that made him seem so imposing—and handed it to you. The fabric was still warm from his body, the faint smell of his cologne lingering on it. You hesitated for a moment, but the cold air persuaded you to accept it gratefully.

“Thanks,” you murmured, slipping the jacket over your shoulders. It was far too big, enveloping you in its warmth.

He stepped back slightly, his eyes lingering on you, though his face remained stoic. “You shouldn’t walk in the rain like this. I’ll drive you home.”

You blinked in surprise. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he interrupted, already making his way towards the door.You reluctantly, following him, it was clear he wasn’t letting you walk in the rain tonight.

Outside, the rain had picked up, and you were more than a little relieved that Alhaitham had offered a ride. But what you hadn’t expected was the sleek black sports car waiting for you in the lot. Your eyes widened as he unlocked the doors with a soft click.

“This is your car?” you asked, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Yes,” he replied simply, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

You slid into the passenger seat, feeling slightly out of place in such an expensive, low-riding car. The leather seats were cool against your skin, and the interior was immaculate. Alhaitham climbed in beside you, starting the engine with a soft purr. The sound sent a shiver through you, though you weren’t sure if it was the car or just the fact that you were sitting so close to him.

As he drove, you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly he handled the car. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a practiced ease, and his posture was relaxed, but there was a certain control in every movement. You found yourself stealing glances at him, your heart fluttering in a way that felt all too unfamiliar. The rain blurred the world outside, making the inside of the car feel small, intimate.

Your thoughts began to wander, and before you could stop them, you found yourself admiring the way his hair fell slightly over his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his eyes stayed focused on the road with that quiet intensity he always had. Everything about him seemed so… controlled, so perfect.

You bit your lip, trying to push the thoughts away. This was your professor, after all. But it was hard to ignore the way your heart sped up each time you caught a glimpse of him.

As if sensing your gaze, he cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving the road. “You’re quiet.”

You blinked, feeling caught. “Oh, sorry. Just… thinking.”

“About?” he asked, though his tone didn’t push for an answer.

“Nothing important,” you mumbled, feeling your face grow warm.

The silence returned, heavy with tension, and you found yourself growing more aware of how small you felt in his car. Every bump in the road seemed to jolt your heart, especially with the way he drove—smooth, fast, and with a precision that made you feel oddly vulnerable.

Finally, he pulled up outside your apartment building. T.he downpour was relentless, heavy raindrops hammering against the sleek black car as you sat next to Alhaitham. The windscreen wipers were moving fast, but it was as if the rain refused to let up, trapping you both in the warmth of the vehicle.

You glanced outside, watching the rain blur the streetlights into hazy orbs of light. "I guess I should go," you murmured, though you didn’t make any move to open the door.

Alhaitham's hand remained on the steering wheel, his eyes focused on the rain. "Wait," he said, his voice calm but firm. "It's coming down too hard. You’ll be drenched in seconds."

You looked at him, startled by his concern. His expression was unreadable as always, but there was something about the way his gaze softened as it shifted from the rain to you. The inside of the car felt too small suddenly, the air charged with something more than just the weather outside.

"You're right," you agreed quietly, settling back into the seat, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The silence stretched between you, the sound of rain enveloping the car in a bubble of quiet tension.

After a few moments, Alhaitham spoke, his voice breaking through the soft patter of the storm. "You don’t mind waiting, do you?"

You shook your head. "No… not at all."

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked out at the rain again. "I’ve never really liked storms," he confessed. "Too unpredictable. But I guess that’s what makes them interesting, isn’t it?"

The unexpected admission surprised you. Alhaitham was always so composed, always so in control. Hearing him speak of unpredictability was strange, almost like he was revealing a part of himself he usually kept hidden.

"I suppose," you replied, your voice softer now, feeling the undercurrent of something deeper. "But sometimes, unpredictability can be… exciting."

His eyes flicked to yours, something unreadable passing through them. "Exciting?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah. It keeps things from becoming too… predictable."

The corners of his lips lifted slightly, a barely-there smile, but it sent a rush of warmth through you. His hand shifted on the gearstick, fingers brushing lightly against yours as you moved to rest your hand on your lap. The touch was so fleeting, so subtle, yet it made your pulse quicken.

"What about you?" he asked, his voice low. "Do you like storms?"

You hesitated, suddenly hyper-aware of every movement, every breath. "I… don’t mind them. I think they can be beautiful. Powerful."

He nodded, his eyes not leaving yours. "Powerful, yes."

There was a pause, and then he added, "But dangerous too."

You felt the weight of his words, the way they seemed to carry a deeper meaning, one that made your heart pound in your chest. The rain continued to pour, but the world outside felt distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the man sitting beside you, his voice, his presence.

"I guess," you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "there’s beauty in danger too."

His eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightening as if your words struck something within him. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, the air between you charged with an almost unbearable tension.

"You have a unique way of looking at things," he said finally, his voice so low it sent a shiver down your spine. "I’ve noticed that about you."

You blinked, feeling your cheeks heat up at the compliment. "Oh… I—thank you."

The rain began to lighten, the heavy downpour turning into a soft drizzle. Alhaitham shifted in his seat, but he didn’t start the car. Instead, his eyes remained on you, as if searching for something in your expression.

"Why are you always walking in the rain without a coat?" he asked, his tone almost teasing now. "You’ll catch a cold one day."

He was referring to the few mornings you entered lectures soaking like a drowned rat, either the coat your wore just got soaked completely through or you were rushing and forgot half of yourself back at home.

You let out a small laugh, though your heart was still pounding. "I… don’t know. I guess I never really think about it. Besides, it’s not that bad."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not that bad? You’re soaked every time."

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but the way he was looking at you made your mind fuzzy. "Maybe I like the rain."

His lips quirked again, and he reached for the coat you he let you borrow before. "Keep it," he said, draping it over your lap again, the fabric warm from his touch. "I’d rather not see you walking around soaked again."

You stared at the coat, your throat tightening. His jacket smelled faintly of him, a comforting, subtle scent. Your fingers gripped the edges of the fabric, feeling overwhelmed by the simple act of kindness.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the soft patter of rain.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his seat, watching you for a moment longer before speaking again, his voice soft but filled with an intensity that made your heart race.

"You look good in it," he said, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your cheeks flush.

Your breath caught, heat flooding your face. You tried to laugh it off, but the way he was looking at you made it impossible to think straight. "I—uh, thanks."

The rain had slowed to a light drizzle now, but neither of you moved to leave the car. The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating, yet you didn’t want it to end. The closeness, the warmth—it was too intoxicating.

Finally, you cleared your throat, trying to break the spell. "I guess… I should go."

Alhaitham nodded, but before you could open the door, his voice stopped you. "Goodnight," he said, his tone softer than you had ever heard it. "And… be careful."

That did it. You felt your face heat up instantly, the blush spreading like wildfire across your cheeks. You couldn’t even look at him, your fingers clutching the coat tighter as you fumbled for the door handle but you sucked in a breath and turned to look at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Goodnight… Alhaitham," you whispered, using his name for the first time.

The way his eyes flickered at the sound of his name on your lips made your stomach flip, but you quickly slipped out of the car before you could lose your nerve and correct yourself. You hurried towards your apartment, the drizzle cooling your flushed cheeks, but your thoughts were spinning.

 As you walked toward your apartment, your heart pounded in your chest, every step making you more flustered. You could feel his eyes on you still, even with your back turned. When you finally reached the stairs, you hesitated, glancing back. His car was still there, the engine quietly humming, headlights cutting through the rain.

He was waiting.

You quickly turned back around, your blush intensifying as you hurried up the stairs, fumbling with your keys. Once inside, you shut the door and leaned against it, breathless and heart racing.

He waited.

The thought made your head spin. Alhaitham—the cold, composed, seemingly distant professor—had waited to make sure you got inside safely. Your mind was racing, overwhelmed by the sudden realization that had been building for days, weeks even.

You had a massive crush on him.

Without even thinking, you peeped through the curtains, just in time to see him drive off into the night, his sleek car disappearing into the rain. You slid down to the floor, your face burning as you pressed your hands against your cheeks, trying to calm the dizzying flurry of emotions swirling inside you.

He’s so… You bit your lip, a small, giddy smile breaking through despite yourself. He’s such a gentleman.

Sitting there in the quiet of your apartment, wrapped in his coat, you couldn’t stop thinking about him—how impossibly perfect he seemed. You had no idea what this all meant, but one thing was certain: you were in deep.

Two days had passed since Alhaitham had dropped you off after that nerve-wracking yet thrilling encounter. Your heart still fluttered at the thought of him—both your professor and the enigmatic man who had captivated your attention in ways you never anticipated.

As you wrapped up your work in the office, the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow through the windows. You sorted through your notes, the soft rustle of paper providing a comforting background noise. Just as you were about to leave, you caught sight of Alhaitham leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, a relaxed smile on his face that sent a flutter through your stomach.

“[your name]” he called, his voice smooth and inviting, laced with an undertone of warmth. “Are you ready to head home? I can drop you off”

You glanced up, feeling your cheeks heat slightly. “No need, sir. I can manage on my own.”

His expression shifted, the corners of his mouth curving into a faint frown. “I’ve kept you late too often lately. It’s only fair that I take you home.”

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, each one clouding your judgment. He’s your professor, you reminded yourself, a few years older than you and incredibly accomplished. Why would he want to spend time with someone like you? Surely he could find someone more suitable—someone his age, someone more… refined. But his persistence won out, and you found yourself nodding.

As you both stepped outside, the evening air was refreshingly cool. The slight breeze played with your hair as you walked side by side to his car, your hearts beating faster with the thrill of being alone together. The tension hung thick in the air, each shared glance igniting sparks between you.

“You’ve been a great help lately,” he began once the both of you entered the car, his tone light yet earnest. “I thought it would be nice to treat you to dinner. There’s a little place nearby that I think you’d enjoy.”

Your heart skipped at the thought. “You didn’t have to do that, Professor.”

He looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I wanted to.”

The two of you arrived at the quaint little restaurant, a cozy atmosphere that felt intimate despite its bustling clientele. Alhaitham held the door open for you, and you slipped inside, feeling like a whirlwind of emotions. The soft chatter around you was comforting, but your focus remained on him.

Seated across from each other, you took a moment to appreciate how he looked in the warm light—his hair perfectly tousled, his sharp jawline accentuated by the soft glow. He was undeniably handsome, and it made you feel small in the best way possible. As he ordered a drink, you noticed the way his hands moved—confident, graceful, and somehow incredibly alluring.

When the server brought out your meals, Alhaitham’s knee brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine. You tried to play it cool, but you could feel the heat radiating from where your legs met. “Here,” he said, nudging a plate toward you. “You have to try this. It’s my favorite.”

You took a bite, and your eyes widened in surprise. “This is amazing!” you exclaimed, not realizing how close you were leaning over the table.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “What about this? Have you tried it before?” He gestured to the dish in front of him, inviting you to share in the moment.

You both ended up sharing food, your hands brushing together as you reached for the same dish, an electric charge buzzing in the air between you. Every fleeting touch felt like a promise, igniting your heart and muddling your thoughts. As you took a sip of his beer, you grimaced at the bitter taste, wrinkling your nose in displeasure.

“This is horrible!” you laughed, unable to contain your reaction. “How do people drink this stuff?”

Alhaitham chuckled, a low, rich sound that sent butterflies flitting through your stomach. “Not everyone has your refined palate, apparently.” He raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from the same glass, unbothered by the lipstick stains you left behind.

Your heart raced at the implication, and for a moment, the world around you faded. Was this an indirect kiss? You felt dizzy, the beer mixing with the heat of the moment, leaving you in a haze. The air crackled with tension, and you found yourself leaning closer, your pinkies almost touching on the table.

As the evening progressed, you became more aware of the way you bumped shoulders while walking out of the restaurant, how his hand would occasionally brush against yours. You couldn’t help but think about how Alhaitham would make the perfect boyfriend. A man who was intelligent, considerate, and undeniably charming.

But you shook those thoughts away, reminding yourself of the reality: he was your professor, an accomplished linguist, and you were just a cam girl with secrets. Still, the way he looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—made your heart flutter, and you found it harder to resist the allure of what could be. 

The drive to your apartment was a light hearted one as you reached your apartment building, Alhaitham paused, turning to face you. “Thank you for your help today, [Your name]. I appreciate it,” he said, his voice low and sincere.

“Thank you, Professor Alhaitham,” you replied, feeling a rush of warmth spread through you.

“Alhaitham is just fine,” he corrected softly, his gaze lingering on you.

With a nervous smile, you nodded, feeling like you were crossing some invisible line. “Alright, Alhaitham.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than necessary.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping back as you watched him turn to leave.

But as you climbed the stairs to your apartment, your heart raced, and your thoughts swirled with excitement and confusion. You peeked through the curtains and saw him still parked there, and your cheeks flushed at the thought of his caring presence as you watched the car start to leave and fade away into the distance.

With a heavy sigh, you sank to the floor, your back against the wall, your mind racing as you realized you had developed a big fat crush on your handsome linguistic professor.

That dinner had been a whirlwind of emotions, and just when you thought the evening would settle, reality hit you like a wave.

You glanced around your apartment, noticing the bills piled on your desk and the ever-present worry about your finances creeping back in. You sighed, frustration bubbling inside you. Money was running low, and you knew what that meant. You had to do a cam session tonight.

Reluctantly, you shuffled to your room and changed into your outfit. You picked out a set of teal lingerie, the fabric soft against your skin, accentuating your curves in a way that made you feel both confident and exposed. As you slipped into the delicate pieces, you caught your reflection in the mirror. The bold colour brought out the warmth in your skin, and for a moment, you felt beautiful.

You quickly set up your camera and adjusted the lighting, trying to create the perfect ambiance. The familiar rush of excitement and nerves tingled in your stomach as you prepared to go live. With one last deep breath, you clicked the button to start the stream, greeting your audience with a sultry smile.

Minutes passed, and you fell into your routine, losing yourself in the performance. You teased and interacted with your viewers, each comment igniting a spark within you. You knew the thrill of being seen, desired, and appreciated, even if it felt like a secret life hidden from everyone else.

Just as you started to really get into it, a notification popped up. You glanced at the screen, and your heart dropped. 

User1102 has joined the stream.

You felt a familiar flutter of nerves in your stomach but brushed it aside, focusing on your performance. 

You just wanted to do something simple tonight, quickly. You pushed the small fabric that covered your mound, your fingers immediately went below, rubbing slow circles along your clit as your other hand groped at your covered chest. You let your eyes flutter, the image of Alhaitham's half-lidded gaze falls on you, a soft moan leaving past your parted lips. Your mind remembering every detail of his fingers. Strong and thick. You inserted two fingers into your soaking cunt, imagining your professor's fingers sinking within you feeling your walls flutter against him. Your mind remembering the smell of him, the warmth he radiated, his fleeting touches and the way he stared at you. A sob mixed with a moan leaves past your lips, your back aching off the bed adding more to your pleasure. 

His beautiful face came into view, you wondered how his tongue will feel agaisnt your neck, his large hands roaming your body, corrupting your body. The sudden image of you sprawled on his office desk came to mind, your fingers moving even faster, your sleek dripping onto the sheets, clit twitch as you squeezed your left breast Alhaitham's big hand squeezing it instead.

Then, without thinking, you let slip the words you never thought you’d say. “Ah, Pr-professor!” Your heart dropped as you realized what you had just said but your hand seemed to move faster, your toes curling in pleasure.

On the other side of the screen, Alhaitham’s eyes widened, shock and disbelief washing over him. He said he wasn't going to join your sessions again but tonight he was so allured by you, he missed you and wanted to see you again and just by luck you were live, but now hearing you call out his title made him groan, a mix of arousal and confusion coursing through him, his hand gripping tightly onto his cock as he starts to move his hand up and down fast, imagining that your tight hole was his hand instead. 

The sight of you in that teal lingerie, completely lost in your own world, only fueled his desires. He had thought about you too many times since that dinner, and now, knowing you were unknowingly calling out to him while you were so vulnerable, his mind raced with conflicting emotions.

Your voice continued, unaware of the effect you were having on him. “I-I can’t help it… I need more.” You cried out, your thighs trembling from pleasure. 

Alhaitham clenched his jaw, the tension building within him. The line between your two worlds had just blurred, and he found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions he never anticipated. Did you really see him as a professor, or was there something more there?

You finally looked up at the camera, your eyes making contact with his teal ones as if you knew he was watching you a shaky sob escapes past your lips.

"Alha-AHH" the words that wanted to leave your mouth got cut short as your screamed from the suddenly immense of pleasure your brought yourself, you squirted. The clear fluid drenching your sheets and thighs as your fingers still moved in you to ride off your high.

Alhaitham's eyes widen at the words that wanted to leave his mouth. Was you about to say his name ? This caused his red tip to explode with cum, his release coming down in thick blobs as it ran down his hand that still moved up and down his overstimulated dick, his eyes blurry, body sweating from the intensity of his orgasm, a lazy smile itched on his face. His hand slowly coming to a still, his eyes darken as he watches you pull your fingers out and lick them. Your breathing erratic as your mind was jumbled as you thought that you had came just at the mere thought of your professor—your feelings for him swirling panic coursing through your veins as you registered the thin line that now separated your real life from your hidden desires for him. 

 Alhaitham tapped in 1000$ and sent it to you, closing the stream with a final click. His eyes remained shadowed, and his heart pounded erratically.

Oh he can't wait to see you tomorrow. 

Part 3

[i-starcreamed]

Can I request how Megs would feel if he fought his beloved, reader needs to beat some sense to him and help him from being blinded with hatred. (Tf one plz) Also I want a good ending cuz I'm still sad about the movie. And if it isn't obvious cybertronian reader.

MEGATRON X READER

Obviously Tf One spoilers! God this was so fun to write, I just hope I got their personalities right. I haven't written anything this long in a while !! Also I never knew I'd be so much of a Megatron enjoyer until this movie...yeah, it took me this long.

[ cybertronian! reader Angst and eventually fluff, could be pretty rushed tbh but I just want him to healll. Very NOT canon to the movie

You knew it wasn’t your D-16 the moment his optics changed. Or maybe it was the way he distanced himself from you and your friends in a matter of hours--maybe minutes. It was a subconscious, subtle shift, but one you wished you could have talked him out of.

You suppose you saw the changed D-16 once you made it to the hideout of the High Guard fliers. Your once-kind, responsible lover was gripping Starscream by the neck, his hold tightening with every word from the flier beneath him.

You glanced at Orion, Elita, and Bee, all frozen in horror. You panicked and you stepped forward, placing your servo on his shoulder. Before you could continue, he whirled around, optics burning with a cold, harsh light—practically glaring at you.

“Y/N…“

“D, what the hell are you doing?!” You demanded, your voice steady despite his glare. “This isn’t like you, this isn’t the way, come on.”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his optics locked onto Starscream again. He was seething, the flier grinning through the pain wasn't helping your case either.

“Come on, do it! Do it, don’t be a c-coward!” Starscream sputtered through glitching vocal processors, even as D-16’s servo squeezed harder, threatening to crush the life from him.

D-16 narrowed his optics, “I’m not a coward!” He roared as Starscream’s cackling turned into garbled screeches

You attempted to push him away, roughly shoving him by the shoulder. “D, stop it!” He shoved you back. The sudden force sent you stumbling, and when you steadied yourself, you found yourself staring down the barrel of his arm cannon. His orange optics were locked on you, but for a fleeting moment, they softened. It was like he didn't recognize you, but then he hesitated.

“Stay out of my way, from now on.” He said lowly, as if his words pained him. “Please.”

His hesitation vanished as the cannon swung back toward Starscream. You stood there, stunned, until Orion and Elita rushed over to pull you up. Then you just stood and did nothing.

You watched in horror as D-16 continued to declare himself as someone they should follow to victory. Oh, you knew how much he wanted Sentinel dead now. Hell, you did too. But you weren’t sure if this was the right way. You weren’t a bad bot. Neither was D-16, he never was. You had to do something...before things got bad.

You recalled the moment just before he…snapped.

___

“Y/N, don’t you see? He’s been lying this whole time.” “Yes, D. I see, I know. But—“ “I want him dead. I just-I need..I need to see him suffer. Look what he did. To you. To me. To us. We could have been..so much more.” He placed his servo over your spark, right above where your transformation cog was. He used to dream of you two racing together, having fun. Hell, flying even. Back then he didn’t know what he would transform into. “We can still be more, D. We have a bigger purpose now, we were given the ability to transform by a prime himself. We just need to..show everyone the truth. And we will. Then we can—“ “It’s not enough.” He blurted out, pulling you closer as if it was the last time he’d hold you. “You deserve so much better. I promise you, Y/N. I promise you he will pay.”

___

Things only got worse from there. You reached your breaking point when you saw D-16—no, Megatron—vanish Orion himself. You couldn’t believe it. They were like brothers. And now, your beloved had become something else entirely. And yet, you still felt helpless.

You rushed over, avoiding and pushing the other bots as you made your way to where D-16 stood. They all cheered him on as he was trying to lift Sentinel into the air. He was going to kill him. He really was.

“D, stop it! Look what you’ve done!” You shouted, stomping your way forward, frustration boiling inside. You slammed your shaking fist into his shoulder. Primus, you were pissed at him right now.

“Please, please! Tell me what the hell you’re doing. This wasn’t a part of the plan.” You pleaded with him, hoping you’d somehow get him to react. Instead, he inched closer, the same stance you’d expect of someone challenging you. “No, you’re wrong. This was the plan. It was what had to be done. How can I get you to see that.” He visibly calmed for a moment, reaching out a servo to brush against the side of your faceplate. Despite everything, it’s still him. And he loved you.

You hesitated, then stepped back. Oh, how it pained you. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand your goal.” You said, barely above a whisper. Time seemed to freeze, and he slowly lowered his arm. In an instant, you watched his gaze darken.

“Then you’re just in my way.”

__

Your hopes were revived as Orion, now as Optimus Prime, came back, the matrix of leadership implanted into his chest. Optimus had saved the life of Sentinel (perhaps a little undeserved), knowing there was another way to deal with this. But now he has to save..practically all of Iacon. Maybe just maybe, between the two of you, you can stop Megatron.

The fight between the two friends wasn’t solving anything, you only feared they’d end up killing each other. You got rid of your fear, inserting yourself in the fight just as they managed to gain some distance from eachother. He grunted as you shoved him harder this time, his footing a bit unsteady from his existing injuries.

“What are yo—“

“I told you, stop. This,” you punctuated every word with a shove. “Is. Madness!” You panted, glaring up at your lover. “Come back to me, D. This isn’t the real you. I know it isn’t.” You pleaded, he responded with an irritated grunt.

“I, am Megatron. Not D-16, I am not that bot anymore. Y/N, stand down-“

“No! You stand down! You’re acting foolishly right now! I won't just stand here and watch you destroy yourself and--” You yelled, going straight for him to push him again, but he stopped you with a raise of his cannon. You froze in your tracks.

"Back down, Y/N." He said with a growl. You narrowed your optics, leaning your frame right up against the barrel, hearing a light clink.. The glow illuminated your armor. For a second, you saw his optics widen. He paused, licking his teeth. "I don't want to fight you. But I-"

"But you will if you have to, right? That's what you were going to say? Do it then," Your voice cracked, "I have nothing left to lose."

He huffed, so be it. He lunged towards you, and you raised your arms, blocking the strike. You opened up to move his blaster out of the way, leaving your side open to his incoming fist. It collided with your side, sparks flying from the contact. You grunted, stumbling back. When he came at you again, you caught his arm, pulling him close until you were face to face.

"We're both being foolish right now, are you happy yet? You panted, he grits his teeth.

"Quit saying that!" He growled, shoving you away. He shot his cannon, the blast flying past your side. You slid to avoid it, earning another blast from him. He fired his cannon, but the shot missed. He was aiming wide on purpose. You blinked, you knew his aim wasn't that bad...primus, he really was missing on purpose. If you weren't fighting right now, you'd swoon.

"Are you missing on purpose?" You asked incredulously.

"No! I.. yes..no! Listen to me, Y/N. We can end this now, if you let me do this one thing."

"You've already done enough. D..."

"Don't call me that."

He lunged again, but this time, you sidestepped, charging into him and sending him crashing to the ground, the side of his face hit the ground. You managed to pin him momentarily, struggling to keep him from standing.

"This isn't what you want. Trust me.." You paused. "Megs. Please."

He tensed beneath you, then slightly loosened as you called him 'Megs.'

"This is revenge, it won't help you feel any better. Not long-term. You'll only continue hating and hating, I can't bear to lose you like this. It's...it's tearing us apart." You shuddered, loosening your grip.

Eventually, you felt his breathing slow to a decent pace, slowly, you climbed off him, kneeling beside him. He sighed. "I..I don't know how to stop." He quietly said. You leaned forward, placing a servo against his jaw. "I can help you. I will help you. Megs, you have me with you. You have..Optimus with you. We're all with you."

You both knelt silently for a moment, gathering each other's thoughts. Finally, he had the courage to look up at you. You might never see those big yellow optics of his again, but at least now they weren't so cold. They held some type of sincerity. "I'm..so sorry." He breathed out.

You almost sighed in relief. "You're still angry, and that's okay, alright? Now it's my turn to promise you, we'll deal with this differently. It won't feel fair at first, but it's the right thing to do. Stand up." You gently said, extending your servo out to him. He slowly took your servo, his grip as gentle, almost afraid of breaking you. Primus, how he regrets hurting you. You can see it written all over his face. He was blinded by rage, he was indeed acting foolish. His optics briefly flicked to Sentinel, still on the ground and honestly, grateful to still be in one single piece. He turned away before the anger could return.

"I didn't want to hurt you," He whispered.

You softly scoffed, gently nudging him. This time, without any defensive intent. "You controlled yourself better than I did. I wanted to beat your aft, D-- Megs." You joked, earning a small, bittersweet smile.

You took your servos in his, softly smiling at him. You turned to Optimus, who was just as relieved as you were. "Optimus, do you think Megs and I can help rebuild Iacon? The way it's supposed to be?"

Optimus smiled gently, looking proud. "Of course you can. We all can." He looked at Megatron, his gaze firm but kind. "I am glad to have you back, friend."

Megatron nodded, still tense but..accepting. One day, they'll be as brothers again. You just know it. "As am I." He said, turning to you. His gaze softened. "Y/N...I love you."

"I love you as well, Megs."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

stay for a fortnight

a/n: as promised, here is part three of the bodyguard!bucky story ৎ୭

summary: “yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

warnings: bodyguard!bucky barnes x reader, smut, reader’s mom is the british ambassador to france, age gap (10-15 years), tattooed!bucky (both a metal arm and tattoos as picked in a poll by you), beefy!bucky, forbidden romance, staying for two weeks at a chateau in the south of france, forced proximity, bucky is a shameless hoe and we love him for it, kissing, love confession, shower sex, dirty talk, manhandling, size kink, belly bulge, gaping, handjob, fingering, impact play, squirting, multiple orgasms, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cumplay

word count: 3870

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“I’m sorry, darling. I tried to get out of it, I really did, even for just one day, but I can’t join you at the chateau this time.” 

“It’s alright, mom,” you exhaled, “I understand.”

Soothingly rubbing her palm down the length of your arm, she suggested, “well, since it won’t be as crowded down there, why don’t you stay a little longer? Maybe a proper break might cheer you up. Maybe one extra week?”

“Actually, two weeks of alone time is just what I need right now,” a faint smile managed to emerge on your lips, “thank you.”

“Great! You go and pack your things, I’ll let Barnes know to do the same,” she announced, and squashed the brief relief you felt just as soon as it had washed over you. 

It felt like ages that Bucky made you sit and wait in the car while he went around the estate to do his initial sweep, making sure it was safe and secure before you got to enter. 

The tenseness that still floated ethereally in the air between you didn’t fade away when he finally came back to crack open the door for you to exit the vehicle. 

“So,” you exhaled once the two of you had crossed the threshold of the chateau, “my room is the one upstairs and at the end of the hallway, yours is wherever the fuck you want, there are like a million bedrooms in this place.”

Your footsteps echoed against the elegantly tiled floors as you twisted to check that he even heard you. He had, seeing as his gaze was still ever glued upon you, though he didn’t offer you a reply. 

Shifting the large bag that hung from your shoulder, the luggage that you stubbornly hadn’t let him carry, you paused just before your stride began to ascend the grand staircase in the middle of the foyer.

“Also, I think we should come up with some ground rules.” 

Your bodyguard’s dark eyebrows then crinkled as he half scoffed, “ground rules?”

“Yes, ground rules,” you sighed, forcing your eyes to rest on anything but him, “it’s just you and me here for two whole weeks, so we’ll need to come up with a plan.”

Exhaling slowly, he simply stated, “whatever you say.”

Before you then began to drift up the wide steps, you cast a glance over your shoulder and said, “meet me in the kitchen in ten.”

“Alright,” you breathed, leaning against the cold marble of the kitchen island as you stared down at the small list you’d scribbled down on a stray post-it you had found in the bottom of your bag, slightly crumbled and with a doodle on the other side, “first rule I’d like to instate is an obvious one, but still needs to be set and stone in order for us to be here together. We can’t sleep together.”

When you heard a low sigh seep from Bucky’s lips, your eyes snapped up to glare at him. 

“Hey! Take this fucking seriously, okay?”

“I am,” he assured you, though his tone indicated the complete opposite of his words. 

“So, rule number two is in prolonging of the first one, which is that we can’t do anything that’ll make us want to sleep with each other,” you cast your glance back down to your messy handwriting, “two A, no swimming in the pool, two B, no nudity, two C, definitely no drinking, and two D, no staring at me,” your eyes flickered back up to catch his blue ones, “especially not like that,” you swiftly gestured to the way he gazed at you.

“Like what?” he didn’t change the manner he looked at you. 

“Like you’ve seen me naked!” 

Your shriek unfortunately only won you the glimpse of a smug smirk upon Bucky’s lips, one you swiftly tried to ignore. 

“Okay,” you blinked in an effort to redirect your attention back to the task at hand and not the butterflies that now soared in your stomach and made you slightly dizzy, “rule number three is technically also under the subsection of number two, but we can’t eat our meals together. No candle-lit dinners, not even a snack.”

Budding in, the man on the other side of the kitchen counter then said, “can I say something?”

With a soft sigh, you mustered the courage to look up at him, “shoot.”

“Do you wanna decide what I wear as well while you're at it? Maybe also when I’m allowed to breathe?”

His jest didn’t as much as conjure a twitch at the corners of your lips as your gaze simply narrowed in his direction, “are you mocking me?”

Boldly leaning his forearms down against the tabletop, he stared back at you, “so what if I am?” though when you assumed he was kidding and you let out a groan, you heard him go on, “all I’m saying is that maybe we don’t set a list of hard rules just to avoid each other. We seem to do just fine when we toss them all out the window.”

“I'm sorry, wait, what?” you blinked. 

“We’ve got two weeks here, so why don’t we make them count?” he shrugged. 

Mouth agape, you dumbfoundedly stared back at him, “you’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” calmly, his head tilted slightly as he held your stunned gaze, “just think about it.”

The sun only barely managed to set before you felt yourself crack and give in to your bodyguard’s offer. 

Storming into his room, his dark brows only got the chance to rise slightly in astonishment before you nearly tackled him to the ground, throwing your arms around his bulky frame and crashing your lips against his before any of you could say even a single word. 

You didn’t try to hide the raw emotions that came pouring out, causing your efforts to be rough and desperate, though it didn’t take long before Bucky’s touch mirrored the feral nature of your own, leaving you dizzy as you eventually withdrew from the starved kiss, clutching onto his shirt for support as you breathlessly ordered. 

“Take off your clothes.”

Keeping your eyes closed, you tilted your head back to let the drizzle of water rinse out the shampoo from your locks. 

The door to the bathroom was wide open, so when you twisted your form to face the showerhead, you didn’t notice as your faithful protector stopped in his slow tracks right on the other side of the threshold. His eyes trailed down your glistening spine till the sight of you caused him to crumble completely and take advantage of the gift that had just fallen into his lap.  

A low purr vibrated within your chest as the warm water rained down upon you, though suddenly, it wasn’t just the hot shower embracing your form, as a pair of burly arms snaked their way around you. Leaning back into his bulky frame, you caught sight of a crumbled bundle of his clothes tossed on the other side of the fogged-up shower door. A blissful hum crackled within you like a roiling fire as you felt his lips begin to plant soft pecks along the line of your shoulders. 

Though as his touch began to bloom and wander boldly down your frame, a gentle hiss tore through your lazy smile as his fingers came into contact and brushed over your core. 

Nipping at your neck, he murmured, “oh, do you want me to stop?” not removing his metal hand, though halted the pattern he had begun to draw over your petals. 

He already knew full well just how sore and swollen you still were. It would have been impossible not to be after the vigorous activities you’d kept the past week busy with.  

Digging your digits into his forearms to keep you in his embrace, you shot back hazily over your shoulder, “don’t you dare,” before a whimper rippled out of you as Bucky once again rolled your puffy pearl beneath his steely touch. 

“How is it that we’ve already done this for a whole week, yet it only feels like a day?” his voice tickled the shell of your ear as you leaned more of your weight back into him. 

“Really? Because I don’t believe you’d be able to fuck me in a day as many times as you have this past week,” you jested through a whimper, “even for a guy with your stamina.” 

“It’s a good thing it’s just the two of us here… imagine if we hadn’t been alone, if it hadn’t been me walking by and seeing you seduce me like the wicked temptress that you are?”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything of the sort,” you chuckled airily. 

“Really?” he teased just as his touch did, “leaving the door open, that wasn’t on purpose?” 

“No, I swear,” you then tilted your head and admitted, “at least not this time…”

“You mean the time back a month ago when didn’t close the door while taking a bath,” he murmured casually, “then called out to me, asking if I could fetch you a towel, and I had to pretend not to hear you?”

Spinning around at once, your eyebrows were nearly at your hairline as you blinked, “you knew?” 

“Baby, you never had to play that hard just to torture me,” he smiled down at you, “that move was downright cruel,” before he reached for the knob and switched off the water.

A squeal bubbled out of you as Bucky then suddenly plucked you up into his arms, wasting no time before he stepped out of the shower, only pausing for a beat in the comparatively more spacious area, though only in order to manhandle you further and toss you over his shoulder before his feet began to shift once more, leaving wet prints in their wake on the cool tile as he strode towards the exit. 

Strung over his shoulder as if you were a wet piece of laundry and he was the line, you giggled, “wait!” and just managed to catch one of the fluffy towels hanging on the hook he passed. Blinking down at the floor as he crossed the threshold, you watched as droplets of water dribbled down from you both and left a trail on the herringbone flooring, “you’re dripping, you’re gonna get the whole house wet!”

Landing his wide palm in a wet smack across your ass, he chuckled, “I thought that was my line, sweetheart,” teasing about the manner your pussy drooled for him, already leaking down your thighs at this point. 

Soon, the long hallway disappeared from your periphery as Bucky entered the nearest of the many bedrooms, though you barely had time to register your new surroundings before the world fell out from under you and he plopped you down on the bed in the middle of the room. 

Standing his ground and looming above the giggle that was your horizontal form, he stole the towel from your grasp before dragging the terrycloth across your skin. As he dried off the droplets of water that clung to your body, a handful of pecks adorned your flesh as well, often shadowing the cloth. 

Gazing up at him with smile-crinkled eyes, you stretched your feet up in the air, against his torso, and rested them against his wide shoulders as he briefly paused to dry himself off as well. But as he returned to sweep the towel across the last remaining spot upon your body that still glistened from the shower, the peck he pressed to the valley between your boobs was swiftly halted as your grasp found his jaw and you guided his face up towards your own. 

As you brought his lips to your own, you swiftly felt the mattress dent and ripple as he crawled up to hover above you. 

“Ahh, fuck…” he then groaned against your lips as your hand snaked down between your bodies and began to stroke his throbbing girth. 

Tossing the towel to the side, a gasp soon tumbled out past your lips as Bucky’s palms found your tits in a gentle squeeze. Your pebbly nipples stood up to the challenge as he swept a knuckle teasingly across one of them before capturing it in a pinch and tugging slightly to summon a sinful sound deep within your body. 

As your fist slowly twisted up and down his hard length, his close proximity caused your own knuckles to brush across your clit at every heated pass. Almost unconsciously, you tilted your hips slightly and nudged the bulbous tip of him through your glistening petals, the pleasure of which caused your eyes to roll in your skull. 

But just before he could take the initiative and catch your fleeting invitation to let him inside, you caught him off guard and suddenly rolled him onto his back with your frame plastered atop of him. 

Propping yourself up slightly, you grasped his fat girth before slowly sinking down upon it, “o-oh my god,” couldn’t help but breathlessly tumble out of your lungs as a flat palm came down to brace on his broad chest and your thighs gently quivered at the sudden stretch of him. It was a few times that you had to pause on your slow journey down just in order to catch your breath, as his intimidating size caused you to question yet again how you’d ever been able to take it before. 

“Atta girl,” his grip dug into your hips when you slowly began to move, “just like that…” though you still couldn’t persuade your pelvis to sink all the way down to meet his own. 

As you found a gentle roll, one of Bucky’s palms scooped up past your waist and caught one of your tits. Your back arched slightly as he played with your boobs, his hand travelling back and forth as you rode him, though a shuttering moan rippled through your body as he landed a gentle tap down upon one of them, a shiver swiftly trickling down your spine at the spark.

But just as you thought the bodyguard beneath you was blissfully enjoying the show and letting you do all the work yourself, his hips then abruptly offered you a greedy buck.  

“Bucky!” you nearly screamed as he buried the last few inches that you had so fiercely struggled to conquer on your own, “that’s–, I–, holy fuck!” 

You hadn’t been able to take all of him on your own, so he just gave you the little nudge that you needed, even if that nudge thoroughly punched all of the oxygen out of your lungs, he still made you take every staggering inch.

“Come on, don’t stop now,” a chuckle escaped him at your reaction before his palm came down upon your ass to get you back to work, “make yourself cum on this cock.” 

Shakily, you tried to pick up your rhythm once more, dropping your hips to meet his, though he couldn’t remain still for long before he began to fuck up into your warmth. Heavy taps echoed throughout the room as his balls slapped against your slick skin at his efforts. As he met your movements halfway and drove his cock much deeper than you could muster on your own, your left hand drifted down to strum your buzzing clit. 

Already dangerously close to the edge, your hazy gaze flickered down to watch not only how your pussy magically swallowed his big dick, but your eyes also caught sight of the dull bulge that appeared in your lower abdomen, making your brain feel even more fuzzy than before. As your glance flickered back to try and catch his, you found his own stare to still be fiercely locked on the same spot where yours had just strayed from, watching intently at just how deep he went, nearly rearranging your guts just to mould you perfectly to fit his shape. 

When you finally reached your peak, your cunt nearly choked his cock as your silky walls clambered down on him, a small accompaniment of sinful gush squirted around him and drizzled to soak the sheets below. 

While you were still foggy with your eyes barely open, Bucky rolled you both over, his dick still throbbing deep within you. Welcoming the softness of the bed beneath you with a gentle sigh, he then captured your lips in a kiss and swallowed the whimpers that promptly bubbled up as he began to fuck you once more, offering you long, deep strokes that sank you so far into the mattress that you began to wonder if you might rock through it completely.  

“O-oh, so fucking d-deep,” you blubbered. A rhythmic cry forced its way out of your lungs each and every time the tip of him kissed your cervix, nearly bullying the deepest parts of you in a manner that made you feel like the wobbliest of jellies. 

“You scared I’m gonna break you, baby?” his soft lips ghosted against your cheekbone. 

“I–, maybe,” you admitted, blinking up at the way his frame eclipsed your vision, “but it feels so good, I don’t care if you do,” though your confession ended up not only exclusively being about the purely physical entanglement you currently found yourselves in. 

A deep growl rumbled in his chest as his hands scooped down beneath your bottom, before he let himself manhandle you, repeatedly dragging your hips up to grant him a better angle for him to fuck into. A bit of drool trickled out the corner of your mouth and found the pillow below your head when his cock soon throbbed within you, pumping you full of his hot load. 

When he pulled back out of your warmth, your pussy didn’t get to stay empty for long as his cool metal fingers swiftly took his dick’s place. Plugging you full, his frame shifted slightly to grant him a good view of the leaky mess he’d made of you. As he pushed his cum deeper inside of you, scooping it back in as his fingers forced it out, he increasingly added more and more digits till the amount matched the girth that had just split you apart, before he withdrew them all at once and grinned proudly at the way he made your hole gape slightly for him, before winking back to a closed as if he’d never even tickled you before. 

It didn’t take long with all of his molten motions before your pussy wept for him once more, a display he only drew out as his fingers stayed hooked inside of you while his other palm came down to offer your puffy pearl a few taps. 

A hazy giggle was bubbling out of your shaky frame as his attentive touch finally faded and his kisses fluttered back up your body till your arms wrapped around him and drew him in close. 

As you layed there in the plush bed and stared up at the ceiling, you didn’t know yet that the man sprawled out beside you was awake as well. 

You just couldn’t find rest no matter how hard you tried, for how could you as tonight was your last night in the chateau. 

Carefully, you slipped out from under the covers, grabbed your long robe from the armchair it was draped over, and tip-toed towards the wide French doors that lead out onto a balcony. Pushing the doors open, a mild gust of wind rustled the robe as you fastened the tie around your waist and crossed over the threshold. 

Though you knew that you didn’t have any other choice, the thought of returning home in the morning still broke your heart. The last thing you wanted to do was burst that dreamlike bubble that you and your bodyguard had built together and go back to a world completely desaturated of colour. 

Not only had you made the grave mistake of repeating history, but putting it under such an intense microscope didn’t help matters either, as well as your feelings, those having become terrifyingly clear over the past two weeks. 

“Hey,” you suddenly heard the doors behind you creak and you tore your hazy gaze away from the dark gardens below to spot Bucky gently leaning against the doorframe. 

“Hi,” you breathed, keeping a flat palm on the ivy-covered stone railing as you twisted your frame slightly to glance at him, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I was already awake,” he shrugged slightly before joining you outside in the pale moonlight, “you okay?”

“Yeah…” you sighed, casting your gaze back upon the woods blooming in the distance. 

“…well, that didn’t sound very convincing,” he chuckled gently as he settled in beside you, leaning both his forearms against the half-wall, “do you wanna talk about it?”

Sucking in a breath, your eyes flickered over to catch his own, “I just–…” you hesitantly began before admitting, “I don’t wanna go back to Paris…” 

“Why not?” though a crinkle found his brow, his expression still softened, “is there something going on with you and your mother?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” you shook your head, “I just don’t wanna go home yet…” staring at him a moment longer, you then heard yourself confess, “…I–… I don’t want this to end yet…”

Watching closely as his lungs expanded with oxygen, for the first time you witnessed the gruff man look utterly and completely stunned, simply staring down at you with bated breath. 

Parting your lips once more, you nearly whispered, “…I don’t wanna go back to pretending that I’m not in love with you…” 

Bucky didn’t say a word, only continued to stare as he tried to comprehend the truth you’d just professed.

“I love you,” you gathered up the nerve to spit out, “I love you now… I loved you this morning… I loved you after you’d probably only worked at the embassy for a few weeks…” your vision became blurred as tears began to form in your eyes and you continued to babble, “and I don’t think those feelings are planning on changing anytime soon, so it only seemed fair for you to be aware of that for when I ask you in two seconds if you wanna keep this thing between us going, because I do, though probably for different reasons than you–, not that I don’t enjoy that part, you are an incredible lay, I just didn’t think it would be fair for you to be unaware of the feelings I've developed for you, because I don’t know how to ignore them anymore, and–, oh my god, please just say something, I feel like I arrived naked at school or something–”

But before you could ramble any further, Bucky seized your face and fiercely pressed his lips to your own. A shiver ran down your spine and nearly caused your knees to buckle as he kissed you, and when he withdrew, slowly pulling back, he found your stary gaze and uttered, “…I don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” he then sucked in a breath before confessing, “because I–… Y/n, I love you too…” 

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[rotthepoet]

Bsf!theo casually being your secret hookup friend and makes it really obvious but also denies it too anyone who asks 🤡

MWAH‼️ (thats me kissing your clever brain because i love it)

I think it would begin as an actual genuine friendship. You two just get along so well, studying together, sitting by each other in the great hall, gossiping and giggling as one does. Theo just adores you, you’re the light of his life tbh

But i mean. You have needs. He has needs. It happens for the first time after a late night smoke sesh. You’re laughing and joking around and you’re play fighting. Start shoving each other around, all fun and games. You end up on your back, Theo on top of you. And like. It’s all silent for a minute. Just a minute. Then just… you both feel the energy shift and you’re making out on the floor. Its messy and he’s groping you, feeling everything he can, kissing down your neck, and really one thing leads to another and you’re in his bed taking it doggy style.

And yeah, It was really just supposed to be a one time thing. Nothing should change. You were just high and horny at the same time, it’s not weird unless you make it weird.

But then… it just… keeps happening.

And neither of you are in any rush to stop it.

Lets take a pause, just one moment please and thank you. I just want to say I think Theodore has a very high sex drive. Gets his mind off things, considers it a workout, and it just feels good. He is a gorgeous man, so its not hard to find willing partners but something just hits harder here. Maybe its the thrill of sneaking around. The knowledge that he’s fucking his friend on the regular and then pretending it never happened.

He stops seeing as many people- obvs not cutting everyone off because hes a bit of a man whore(he doesn’t want you to get sick of him)- and he doesnt even realize it. He just… likes you more than all his other hoes🙏

Anyways! Its kinda obvious that Theo and you have something going on. Prolonged glances at each other, biting your lip at him, him grazing his hands over your hips while he whispers something in your ear that makes you blush. Man goes out of his way to “subtly” slap your ass.

Its Draco and his big mouth that say anything first. Their whole crew is sitting in the Common Room, just idly chatting and playing cards. When conversation eventually gets stale, Draco sits back and looks Theodore dead in the eyes. “Nott, are you dating that… “friend” of yours?”

And he means it in a cheeky teasing way. Because how can Theodore Nott, local playboy, be settling down?

And Draco expected a solid “yes, and what of it?”

He didn’t expect the most casual “nah” anyone could muster.

And heads turn, Blaise raising a brow because he was certain you and Theo were an official item. Questions begin rising, and Theo just shrugs them all off like its all rumors.

“So you aren’t hooking up with them?”

Nope

“Youre really just that touchy? It came out of no where.”

Dunno, mate, shit happens and people change.

And he’s biting back a smirk because his mind is on you again and suddenly he’s faking a yawn and excusing himself to many protests. He misses your body(he misses you he misses you so bad its genuinely such a distressing feeling in his chest when he cant see you all day)

He swallows all those feelings though. Youre just a friend.. with benefits? Just a friend with benefits. Nothing more. He doesn’t even like tear up a little bit when you play with his hair after he finishes. Like. Its not that deep.(it is that deep. Its so deep. Its miles deep. Hes so down bad.)

And its not like hes ever going to admit it. Hes just gonna keep hooking up with you and pushing those feelings away.

Swallowing those feelings won’t stop him from punching some dude for dancing a little too close to you at a party, though.

[urfavoritewriter]

All-Inclusive

A personal story where I indulge in some of the things I like, needed to write a lil thing after the comms.

Content: M/M Vore, Oral Vore, Casual Vore, Teasing, Prey POV, Head-First Swallowing, Belly Bulge, Belly Rubs, Burping, Dom/Prey Dynamics, Tight Stomach, Digestion Implied, Foodplay Themes, Public Vore, Pred/Prey, Power Dynamics, Size Difference, Belly Play

You weren’t supposed to be here.

The invitation came at the last minute—your co-worker, Steve, bailing on the cruise the day before it set sail. You figured it’d be a nice break from the usual grind, maybe even a chance to unwind for once. But now, standing awkwardly in the corner of the cruise buffet with a half-eaten bread roll in hand, you’re wondering if this was a mistake. The other guests are all annoyingly tanned and carefree, laughing too loud, drinking too much, while you hover on the outskirts, hoping to blend in.

And then he walks in.

He looks like every guy who’s way too comfortable on vacation—open Hawaiian shirt barely clinging to his broad shoulders, linen shorts sitting low on his hips, and a pair of aviators perched on his nose even though you’re indoors. His bare chest glistens slightly, either from the heat or leftover pool water, and his stomach... well, it’s impossible to ignore. A soft roundness presses against his waistband—bigger than just a food baby but not quite a beer belly—making it clear that he’s spent more time at the buffet than the gym lately.

You keep staring. You can’t help it. The lazy, swollen curve of his belly, the way it subtly bounces with each step, it’s weirdly... captivating. You pretend to look away every time his head turns, but after a while, it’s obvious you’ve been caught.

“The fuck you lookin' at, man?” His voice cuts through the noise of the buffet, sharp but casual, his tone more annoyed than curious. He raises an eyebrow, tugging his shirt open a little more and tilting his head. “You got a problem or somethin’? Keepin’ an eye on me like I stole somethin’.”

You blink, startled. “What? No, I wasn’t—”

“Bullshit,” he cuts you off, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He pats his belly lazily, making it jiggle just enough to draw attention. “You been eye-fuckin’ this gut since I walked in. What, jealous or somethin'?”

Heat crawls up your neck. “I wasn’t—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” He rolls his eyes, brushing past you to load up his plate with more food. You think that’s the end of it—just another awkward interaction to forget about. But when he comes back, plopping down at the table next to yours, he’s not done.

“Got you curious, huh?” he says through a mouthful of shrimp. He leans back in his chair, letting his gut poke out even further. “What, this?” He pats his stomach again, louder this time, grinning as he catches you glancing at it. “Yeah, buffet did me in real good. You like it or somethin’, weirdo?”

You sputter, unsure how to respond. “I-I wasn’t—”

He snickers, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Nah, you were. Don’t even lie about it.” He leans forward, resting one arm on the table, the other lazily rubbing circles over his belly. “What’s the deal, huh? Ain’t never seen a dude enjoy himself before?”

You try to laugh it off, but the sound dies in your throat when he shifts in his seat, scooting closer. His knee bumps yours under the table, and he smirks, catching the way you stiffen.

“Y’know,” he says, voice dropping a little lower, “if you like it so much, you could always get a closer look.” His grin is sharp, playful, but there’s something dangerous lurking beneath it. “Or... hell, maybe you wanna get inside, yeah? Make yourself useful.”

You blink, heart thudding against your ribs. “What?”

He burps—loud, unapologetic, the sound rumbling out of him like a challenge. He grins afterward, swiping a thumb across his lips. “Ahh, sorry, man. That shrimp’s fightin’ back.” He gives his belly a rough pat, making it jiggle again. “Might need somethin’ heavier to settle it, though. What d’you think?”

You try to back away, but he leans in, crowding you against the table. His stomach presses against your side, soft and warm, trapping you in place. “C’mon now, don’t be shy,” he teases, grinning down at you. “You been starin’ all night. Might as well make it worth your while.”

You try to stammer out a response, but he’s already moving—grabbing the chair beside yours and spinning it around to straddle it, his gut practically resting on your arm now. “What, you think I’m jokin’?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Nah, man. I reckon you’d fit just right in here.”

He burps again, this time blowing it right in your face with a laugh. “Whew, you smell that? That’s what’s waitin’ for ya.” He grins as you cough, waving his hand dramatically. “Bet it’ll be nice n’ cozy in there, though. You look like the type that’d enjoy it.”

You try to shift away, but his hand lands on your thigh, heavy and warm, keeping you in place. “Nah, don’t run now,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “Bet you’re wonderin’ what it feels like, huh? Bein’ all snug in there... squished up tight.”

You swallow hard, pulse pounding in your ears. He smirks, clearly seeing the panic in your eyes, and leans back a little, giving his belly a satisfied rub. “You know you want to, man. Might as well admit it.”

Before you can respond, he hooks an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer until your face is nearly pressed into his gut. “There ya go,” he chuckles, giving you a playful shake. “Feel that? That’s where you’re goin’, dude. Right in here.”

His hand slides to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “C’mon now, don’t fight it,” he whispers, voice low and teasing. “Gonna swallow you whole, nice n’ easy. Just gotta relax.”

He opens his mouth slightly, letting his tongue flick out as if already tasting you. “Bet you’ll taste better than the shrimp, too.”

He doesn’t waste time. One moment, you’re staring at his smug grin, and the next, his hand is gripping the back of your head, fingers tangled roughly in your hair. He’s not gentle about it—there’s no hesitation. His lips stretch wide, and suddenly, your face is pressed into the slick, wet heat of his mouth.

It’s overwhelming. His tongue slathers across your cheeks, slick and hot, tasting you with broad, lazy strokes. A deep, muffled groan rumbles from his throat, vibrating through your entire skull. You try to squirm, but his hands are firm, holding you steady as he takes his time with each slow, deliberate lick. Every moan feels like satisfaction rolling off him in waves, like he’s savoring you.

Your shoulders bump against his lips next, and his jaw works over you greedily, tugging you in deeper with each wet, heavy gulp. The heat is suffocating—humid and thick, making it hard to breathe as his throat tightens around your face. All you can hear are the squelching sounds of his tongue and the soft, satisfied noises escaping from his chest as he pulls you in inch by inch.

He tries to speak—just once. A garbled, muffled attempt that sounds something like “mmmff…ffuck”—but the words get lost around your body, swallowed up by the slick confines of his mouth. He gives up after that, focusing on the task at hand, each gulp dragging you deeper into the dark, wet tunnel of his throat.

The pressure is intense, your head squeezing further into him with every swallow. His throat ripples around you, muscles working to pull you down, relentless and greedy. You can feel his pulse hammering against your skin, the thrum of it steady and strong as his throat flexes around your shoulders. It’s tight—unbearably tight—and every inch of progress feels like you’re being forced deeper into something inescapable.

His belly gurgles loudly, as if in anticipation, the sound vibrating through you as your head begins to slide past the opening into his gut.

And then, suddenly, you’re in.

The transition is abrupt—one second, your head is squeezed in the tight heat of his throat, and the next, you’re sliding into the slick, churning pit of his stomach. It’s hotter here, wetter too. The walls of his gut press in from every side, slick with juices that coat your skin, thick and warm. You feel something soft brush against your cheek—the remnants of the shrimp he’d devoured earlier, half-digested and floating in the sour broth of his stomach.

The air is thick, sour with the smell of food and digestive acids, and it clings to every breath you manage to steal. His stomach groans deeply, the sound vibrating through the tight space, as if welcoming its newest occupant. It squeezes around your head, kneading you into place like you already belong there.

Outside, the pred grunts with effort, his throat still working to swallow more of you down. The world narrows to the relentless pull of his gut and the humid press of his belly against your body. Your chest is next, sliding past his lips with a wet shlop as he takes another gulp, dragging you deeper.

His moans are louder now, reverberating through your entire body. Each noise is a mix of satisfaction and exertion, a primal sound that makes it clear he’s not just enjoying this—he’s thriving on it. His gut stretches to accommodate you, the skin bulging as more of your body disappears inside. You can feel it growing tighter, pressing you into the mess of half-digested shrimp and thick gastric juices already sloshing around inside.

You try to push back, just on instinct, but it’s no use. His throat is too tight, too determined to let anything go but down. Another wet gulp drags your waist past his lips, and you feel the rest of your body shift, sliding further into the sweltering heat of his gut.

By the time he gets to your thighs, his pace has quickened, each swallow coming more eagerly than the last. He’s lost in it now—every moan, every rumble of his belly a clear sign that he’s fully given in to the pleasure of swallowing you. His throat pulls you down greedily, his hands gripping your legs to guide them in, shoving the last of you inside.

Your legs kick weakly as they slide past his lips, but he just groans, one final, satisfied sound, and tilts his head back with a deep, powerful swallow.

Schlop.

The last of you slips down his throat, and with a loud, contented gulp, you’re gone.

Inside his belly, everything is tight, wet, and sweltering. The stomach walls squeeze you from all sides, pressing you deeper into the mess of food and digestive juices. Every shift of his body sends ripples through the tight space, sloshing you around like just another meal. The air is so thick it’s hard to breathe, each shallow inhale filling your lungs with the sour scent of digestion.

And then, outside, you hear it—a loud, rumbling burp that echoes through the confined space of his stomach, shaking you to your core.

“Oooof,” he groans, rubbing a hand lazily over the massive swell of his gut. “Man, you settled in good. Felt ya fightin’ for a second there—thought I might have to spit ya out. But nah... you fit just right.”

He leans back in his chair, letting his gut hang heavy between his thighs, bulging out with the clear outline of your body inside. “Shit,” he mutters, giving his belly a satisfied slap. “You’re bigger than you looked. Got me feelin’ all stretched out n’ shit.”

His fingers trace slow circles over the bulging curve of his stomach, feeling the way you shift slightly beneath the surface. Another burp rumbles out of him, this one even louder than the last, and he grins, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Whew. Yeah, that’s what I needed.” He grins, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Bet you thought you’d freak me out or somethin’, huh? Like I’d be all weirded out by this shit. Nah, man. I think I’m gonna keep ya in here a while.”

He stretches lazily, letting out a contented sigh. “Shit, maybe I’ll even take ya out for a walk. Show ya off a bit. Let everybody see what a good fuckin' job I did stuffin’ ya down in there.”

His hand presses down harder on his gut, squishing you deeper into the mess inside. You hear him chuckle low in his throat, the sound vibrating through every inch of his belly.

“Bet they’ll get a kick outta seein' this,” he says, patting his gut one more time. “Big ol’ belly full of some weirdo who couldn’t keep his eyes to himself.”

With that, he leans back, letting his belly settle heavy and round against his lap, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Yeah... think I’m gonna like havin’ ya in there. Hope you’re comfy, dude. ‘Cause you ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

And with one last, lazy burp, he pats his gut again, closing his eyes with a contented sigh.

“You’re mine now.”

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

1.8k / 24 / soap soulmate au, part 4

...

Price takes a seat opposite you. Ghost stands behind him, massive arms crossed. Price folds his hands together.

"Tea?" he asks.

You say nothing.

"Ghost, go get us some tea."

Ghost leaves. Price examines you, drumming his fingers against the table. He acts friendly. But he's not playing. You have no doubt he'll extract the information he needs by any means necessary. You need to make sure he doesn't figure out which of your buttons to press.

"You're Soap's girl," he says.

You say nothing. His stare presses in on you as heavily as the silence, pushing your back into your seat.

"Who is he to you?"

You shift, uncomfortable in your chair. "A stranger." You roll your shoulders as if trying to shrug off the implications. "An enemy, ostensibly."

Price leans closer. "You kiss your enemies often?"

Not until Johnny walked into your patrol path. 

"Left quite the impression on Soap. You made a bit of a mark on Ghost, too. Not that it’s hard." Price leans back, giving you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "He’s got a soft spot for Soap, hm? So he doesn't want you hurt. Doesn't want Soap put out."

You remain silent, but it doesn't seem to bother him. He studies you, utterly calm. He's trying to read you. It's obvious he has some kind of game plan, and now he thinks you have one, too.

"Weren't quite planning to walk into someone like him, were you? Things happened, didn't they? Things you had to work through."

"No."

"Really. 'Cause with the way you're acting, I'd wager you had different plans for yourself. Now you're all twisted up in this. Plans got ruined because he came along. Maybe you've got your own plans, hm? Got a whole life back home. A career, clearly. Nice little house. Maybe you've got a boyfriend already."

"What do you want?" you grit out.

"Access, love," he says, like this whole interrogation is just a pleasant chat. That new base of yours, the one Graves commandeered. How do you like it?"

"Barely seen it."

"I imagine you're rather busy lately, then. Lot on your mind. Shepherd must have you working hard." You notice a muscle twitching in his jaw. He has an iron grip on his temper. "But you saw enough of it to get a good look around, hm? The layout, the security, the systems. Tell me about it."

"I don't know anything."

"Nothing?" He leans forward again. He doesn't seem to like that answer. "The security cameras. The guards. The patrols. The sensors." His voice is low. "You don't know anything about those?"

"Didn't ask."

"Hm." His shoulders lift in a slight shrug as the expression on his face hardens further. "You didn't ask." He repeats. "Didn't ask. Didn't ask..." Then he pauses, staring through you. He leans back again. "No, of course not. You follow orders. You do your job. Can't fault you for that." He speaks with a cool tone, but there's a tightness in the lines of his jaw as he says it. "And now you're here and your buddies are gone. Just you. The only target left." He lets the silence stretch out. "Do you think Graves'll come for you?"

"No."

"Hm. Why not?"

"I'm a nobody."

"Hmmmmm." His smile doesn't change, but the lines around his eyes shift as if he finds that amusing. "And you're perfectly content with that? With knowing that when you walk into that base every day, you'll just be another body for Graves to throw onto the heap?”

You hold his gaze. "Yes."

"You don't think you're worth more than that?"

You say nothing.

The smile is still there, but his eyes narrow. He's judging you. Judging your worth. You hold his gaze. He seems to recognize something in you--that you're telling the truth. You know what you are. You're a mercenary. You're expendable.

"You must have a low opinion of yourself." He sighs, crossing his arms and settling a little further into his chair. "You've accepted you're not walking out of this base, then."

You nod.

Price examines you, eyes narrow and intense. Peeling you apart. You're certainly not an idiot. Smart enough to know you're expendable; loyal enough to take orders, keep your mouth shut, and follow through without asking questions. Not the type of soldier he prefers, but in the right hands, you'd be lethal.

Tough to crack, too. He rubs his chin. Hard to threaten someone who doesn't have anything to lose.

Two sharp knocks on the door herald Ghost, who slips back inside and closes the door. He's not carrying tea.

"Might want to pick up the pace," Ghost says. "Soap's back."

You stiffen, as much as you try not to show it.

Price's gaze flicks over to you, noting the tensing of your shoulders. "He knows?"

"Affirmative, sir. Someone outside must've seen her mark and tipped him off."

At that moment, there's a banging on the door. Johnny's voice echoes from the other side. "LT!"

Hearing it is a punch to the gut.

Soap keeps knocking. "Ghost, get yer lyin' arse out here!"

Price looks at Ghost and nods toward the door. "Go on, then, handle it."

Ghost curses under his breath and slips outside.

"Hell's fuckin' bells, LT, what's goin' on?"

Ghost's reply is too low and muffled to catch.

"Busy with what?" Soap snaps. "I know she's here. I need to see her."

Ghost's reply this time sounds harsher.

"Like hell I'm not. That's my goddamned soulmate, aye? My girl. I've got a right to see her. You'll not keep me from the one person in the whole bloody world that's mine."

"Captain's interrogating her." Ghost's tone is low and loud now, a warning. "You don't get special privileges with her."

Soap lets loose a string of colorful curses. You can make out roughly half of them through his accent. "What does Price think she's got that's so bloody important I don't get to know about it?"

"She's a Shadow, Johnny. Chrissake."

"Aye, an' she's in that room goin' it alone. She needs me."

Your heart twists in your chest, and it forces out a breath you didn't know you were holding. It's eating at your resolve. Just hearing him speak about you is making you want things you shouldn't. He sounds like he wants to protect you. Like you're worth something to him. You try to shake it out of your head. You're a prisoner here. This isn't a love story. He doesn’t love you. He doesn't know you.

Then you look up, and your blood goes cold. Price is staring at you, and he's smirking.

His eyes move over you, dissecting you piece by piece, and you feel your expression revealing too much. He saw your mask slip. He saw what you're concealing.

"I'll be damned." His smirk grows. "I thought Shadows were all cold-blooded bastards."

Your mouth twitches like it wants to bare teeth. "Go to hell."

"Ghost," he calls mildly at the closed door, "get in here. And bring Soap, would you?"

No no no no. Panic washes over you. You pull at your cuffs, feeling yourself lapse into a freeze response. Not Johnny. You can't face him. You try desperately to get a grip on your body's reaction, to remember your training.

You turn your head away from the door and fix your eyes on the opposite corner of the room. Among the many rifles and launchers racked on the walls, you find a pistol and you concentrate on it as hard as you can. You study the polish smudged near the mouth of the barrel. The scarred grip.

Behind you, the door opens.

Soap is across the room in moments. He kneels next to you, his hands falling to your arm, to your shoulder, your neck. His thumb brushes across one of the many cuts on your cheek.

You feel outside of yourself. Soap seems too fixated on your state of being to notice.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ. What did you rat bastards do to my girl?" he growls.

"She did this to herself," Ghost says. He puts his hand on Soap's shoulder. "And we need her restrained while we question her--"

"Back off," Soap warns, brushing his hand away. "Am not dealin' with you right now."

Price cuts in, voice firm. "Soap, cool off. Now."

Soap's temper flashes hot. His jaw clenches. His muscles tense. But he takes a deep, steadying breath. "Aye, Captain," Soap says. He straightens up, his hands falling away from your face. But it's clear his blood is still simmering. "Permission to remove her cuffs."

"Negative," Price says. Soap starts to say something, but Price cuts him off. "No. She's unpredictable. You know that as well as we do. We can't afford to trust her until we understand what Graves' orders are."

Soap curls and uncurls his fists, evidence of the sheer will he's exerting to keep his feet planted where they are. "And what do you expect me to do? Just leave her here? Not say a word to her?"

That smirk curls Price's lips again. "Quite the opposite. I'd like you to do the talking for us."

Price stands and gestures to Ghost again, and Ghost guides Soap by the shoulder over to him. Soap resists on principle for a moment before his mind catches up and he walks stiffly to the other side of the table.

“She has information we need," Price says. "Alejandro, remember? Once that's squared away, we'll need no hostage. You understand me?"

There's a beat of silence.

"You want me to interrogate her," Soap says.

"I want access," Price replies.

"And once I have the information?"

"Then she’s all yours. You can do whatever you like. Let her go. Hell, drive her to the airport if you want. But until then" --Price's hand lands on Soap's shoulder and pushes him down into the interrogator's seat across from you-- "she doesn't leave this room. You understand?"

You feel Soap's eyes on you.

"Fine. I'll do it. But it's gotta be me and her. No one else. You let me do my job the way I know it needs to be done."

"Hm." Price glances at you. You're still concentrating on the pistol on the far wall. "That's just fine. Ghost, let's give 'em some time alone."

Ghost follows Price out of the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

"Sir?" Ghost's voice is low and uncertain.

"Trust me, Soap is the leverage we needed. He'll do just fine.”

Ghost is quiet for a moment. "If he keeps his head on straight."

Price hums in agreement, his smile genuine now. "If he keeps his head on straight."

...

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / [part 4] / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12

more Soap / masterlist tag

[lqveharrington]

Golden Snitch | R.L.

summary: you convince remus to dress up together and everyone LOVES the costumes

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: underage drinking, cursing, kissing, Sirius and reader behaving like siblings, overall fluff

a/n: poll is releasing tmr to vote for this or the draco one!

Although Remus wasn’t big on dressing up for Halloween, you absolutely adored it. Since your childhood, you always looked forward to the holiday and the tacky outfits from the spirit store down the street. Since Remus’ childhood, the holiday only reminded him that everyone found werewolves terrifying as death itself.

But you made sure to change all his horrid memories to good ones the second you met.

Over the years, you slowly coaxed Remus into dressing up and having fun on Halloween, especially when his best friends threw the Gryffindor party every year. When you began dating, the costumes you made him wear became couple costumes. Some of your favorites being Phantom of the Opera, Beauty and the Beast, and The Great Gatsby.

This year — your final year at Hogwarts — you wanted to wear something that would be talked about for years. You wanted something so spectacular that it would be remembered. Luckily, you had just the couples costume in mind.

“Remind me again, why do you need a quidditch uniform?” James threw a curious look to Remus who was currently reading Little Women, a book you made him read for entertainment purposes. “If you’re telling me you’re joining the quidditch team during your last year, I’ll go bloody mad.”

“I’m not.” Remus flicked the page and sipped on his tea beside him, glancing at James from the corner of his eye. “Just need to borrow one.”

Remus, James, and Sirius have gone through this dance about ten times. Each one ending in the talk of the latest play before James sobered up and asked about the uniform again. It was a never ending cycle of bickering.

Sirius threw a crumpled piece of plastic at Remus’ head as the painting opened up, earning a loud sigh from the boy himself. “Yeah, but why do you need to borrow one?”

“Don’t throw stuff at Remus, Black.” You huff and make your way over to the trio, flashing your loving boyfriend a smile as his hand made their way to your hip. “What did they do this time?”

“Why are you assuming we did something?”

“Yeah, we’re saints!” Sirius dropped down on the couch beside Remus, sending you an oh-so innocent smile.

You roll your eyes at him and flash him your favorite finger, “Says the devil himself.”

“Hey—!”

“They were asking why I needed a quidditch uniform.” Remus cut Sirius off before you two could argue for the nth time.

It was like you two were always fighting over him — which he had to admit — was funny to see unfold each time. Remus laced his other hand with yours and returned your attention back to him, thumb rubbing your pulse point.

“How’s your thing going?” He murmured when you sat beside him and rested your head on his shoulder, shifting his body to block Sirius from your sight.

You shrug, “Lily and I have been working on it. We’ll be done even before the holiday.”

“You two are so ominous, I don’t like it.” James shuddered, which earned a glare from you and an eye roll from Remus. “What? It’s obvious you two are planning something and not telling us.”

“Okay, well, I’m done with this conversation.” You sighed and pressed a quick kiss to Remus’ lips, looking like the love sick fool that you were. “I love you, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

You made quick steps up the girls’ dorm after Remus reciprocated the notion and left the three boys back to their dwelling.

“Why does she hate us and love you?” Sirius grumbled and popped a jelly bean into his mouth, grimacing at the flavor and spitting it out.

“Maybe because she’s dating him and not us?” James threw him an annoyed look.

Remus blocked out their bickering and went back to reading. He loved you and you loved him, and that’s all he needed to know. Besides, it was the boys who practically begged him to ask you out since first year. They knew he was smitten with you the second you both met on the train.

Eventually, James did lend Remus an unused quidditch uniform while you and Lily finished your costume for Halloween. The only thing left to do was perfect the actual look and win the couples contest.

“Hell, are you dressing up as one of our quidditch players for Halloween?” Sirius raised his brows in surprise as Remus shuffled out of the bathroom with said uniform on. “Which Gryffindor did you dress up as?”

“No one.” Remus replied in a bored manner and adjusted the leather gloves he had on. “I’m just a quidditch player.”

“Uh-huh. So you definitely didn’t dress as Prongs or I?”

“No.”

Sirius gave him an unimpressed look and shrugged on his vest for his Indiana Jones costume. “Whatever you say… Anyway, Prongs and the rest of them are already down there and I’m not waiting for you any longer if you’re going to gel your hair back.”

“Yeah, I’m going.” He grumbled and adjusted his uniform before following Sirius down the stairs and into the ongoing Halloween party.

The red lights flickered about as the music practically shook the entire room. Remus scanned the vicinity for you, struggling until Sirius almost dropped dead at the sight of you. It was the same reaction everyone had to seeing you dressed in… That.

“Holy fuck. Your girlfriend is wearing the shortest dress in existence.” Sirius gaped and earned a smack to the head from Remus.

Remus watched you dance and jump with Lily, eyes shining bright with joy when they met his. You beamed so bright and almost elbowed everyone in your way to make it to him. He caught you in his arms as you kissed him senseless, hands coming to rest on his cheeks.

“Hey, dovey.” He finally spoke when you both parted for air, thumbing your jaw softly. “You look absolutely stunning in gold.”

“Of course, I do, Rem! I’m a Gryffindor!” You laugh and eyes his outfit like he was a three course meal. “It’s interesting seeing you dressed in quidditch robes for the first time.”

“Yeah?” He continued to thumb your jaw in a doting manner. “Well if I did play, I plan on you being the snitch every game. I wouldn’t play otherwise.”

You tilt your head and meet his eyes with so much love. Now that you and Remus were standing together, your costumes made so much sense. It wasn’t just a quidditch player and a golden fairy, it was a seeker and the golden snitch. Sirius looked between the both of you before gasping and clapping his hands in realization, those around you looking over as well.

“Aren’t you two the cutest pair!” He gushed and pinched Remus’ cheek at the revelation.

Smacking Sirius’ hand away, you rested your chin on Remus’s shoulder to prevent him from doing such thing again. Remus laughed at you two and rubbed your back.

“You know, Marlene is looking for you, Siri.” You practically shout over the loud music.

“Is she?” He perked up at the mention of the girl he had been talking to recently. “Well then… I will catch up with you two later.”

You waited a little longer before laughing loudly at your own doing. Was Marlene really looking for him? No, but Sirius was always there whenever you wanted to be alone with Remus. Before you could stop laughing, Remus swatted your ass playfully in response to the poor prank.

“Hey—!” You pout jokingly, laughing again when Remus shook his head at you with an upturned smile.

As the night carried on, the crowd grew bigger, the music louder, and the drinks more alcoholic. It got to the point where you and Remus were too drunk to be the responsible ones in the group. Oddly enough, you both drank more than anyone else in the group.

However, you both won the couples costume contest and — for some reason no one could explain the next day — you decided to give a speech to the mass of Gryffindors in the common room about winning the contest. It wasn’t your proudest moment, but it was your last year.

Clambering on top of the wooden tables, you stumbled over your own legs as Remus tried to stabilize you. Lily, who was the responsible one for the night, rubbed her forehead in exasperation. She didn’t want to necessarily stop you. You were a whiny drunk, and it would be impossible to stop you from something you wanted to do.

“Wait wait — hiccup — I would like to thank the committee,” You hold your red cup close to your chest, your cheeks almost as bright as the cup. “Lily Evans — hiccup — the quidditch team, and my ever so loving boyfriend — hiccup — for making this all possible!” You throw your arms in the air, earning cheers from the crowd.

“What committee?” Sirius looked at Lily with a confused look, pointing between him and James. “Us?”

She shrugged and watched you jump down from the table, snickering when Remus nearly had a heart attack from your way of getting down. She made sure you both were okay before returning to James’ side, pointing you both out to him.

“You’re gonna be the — hiccup — death of me.” Remus tucked his head in between your neck and shoulder, nudging his nose on your exposed skin. “Don’t do that.”

“M’sorry.” You giggle and stumble slightly at the weight being put on you. “You baby.”

He kissed your cheek, “No.”

“Yeah.”

“No.” He dragged you over to the dormitory stairs. “Hi.”

You giggle and trace the scars on his face, “Hey.”

“You’re cute.” He melted into your hands and pecked your palm. “Really really cute.”

“You wanna know a secret, Rem?” You murmur and hiccup when he tugged you impossibly closer. “I promise it’s really cool.”

“What is it?” He pressed kisses everywhere he could, putting more attention to your lips.

“I love you.” You whisper against his lips and fully kiss him, the taste of firewhisky strong. “So much.”

He smiled into the kiss and parted briefly, thumbing your lip. “You want to know my secret, dovey?”

“What?” You look up and meet the hazel eyes you’ve come to love.

“I love you more.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[meownotgood]

WEEK ONE — masturbation + aki hayakawa, 18+, gn!reader, jerking off, pillow humping, sexual fantasies, edging, a hint of degradation, aki just can't help his feelings for you

kinktober masterlist

Everyone knows Aki has a crush on you. 

It's as obvious as it could possibly be. He's always staring, always coming up with any excuse he can to slip away from work for a while and come talk to you. He leaves frequent gifts on your work desk: notes in his handwriting, flowers or snacks or souvenirs he got for you from Hokkaido. 

He's unusually awkward when your name gets brought up in conversation, he's jittery whenever you're around — The last time you tagged along on the division's monthly drinking night, Aki was practically a mess, choosing to drown himself in as much alcohol as he had the pocket change to order, simply to keep from losing it because you'd sat next to him. Of course you had to sit right next to him. 

You've kept him infatuated for forever now. The thing is, Aki doesn't care if he's obvious. You're so pretty, he thinks. He's thought so from the very beginning. You're pretty and interesting and smart and it isn't his fault; he really can't control how his heart flutters and his head goes dizzy every time you talk to him, it just happens. You just have that effect on him. 

He can't help but feel shy every time you call his name in that sweet voice of yours; so polite, sticking to Hayakawa-sir even though he's told you before that you can use his first name. You grin every time, and you explain, But you get embarrassed when I call you Hayakawa. He can't help it when his face turns red all the way to the tips of his ears because you're teasing him, giving him a hard time for how stuttery he's getting. 

You were particularly teasing today. Aki knew you must've been in a good mood from the moment he arrived at headquarters. You held him by his arm, you cooed praises into his ear for how hard he's been working lately. Told him if he ever needed a break, he could come to your office any time he wants to and you'd give him a massage or make him some coffee. You insist. 

Maybe that's why he can't sleep right now. 

He's tried to get some sleep this time, he seriously has. He hates when he's like this. When he finds he's unable to stop thinking about you, he'll try everything he can to wind down and make himself forget. He'll go for a run to try and get his energy out, take an ice cold shower, smoke until his lungs are burning to attempt to quell the noise in his mind, and yet tonight, none of that has worked. 

Nothing can chase away those thoughts of you, those memories of your pretty face and your teasing hands. Nothing convinces his heart to stop pounding within his chest. Aki tosses, turns. His sheets rustle and his mattress shifts underneath his weight. 

It's a real conundrum. He's felt hot all over ever since he climbed into bed. His face is warm, he's practically sweating. Turning again, he takes a quick glance at his alarm clock, the screen reads 11:54 which is several hours since he first attempted to sleep and a few minutes since he last checked it. 

You were touching him so much today. So much, more than he's used to, even for you. No-one else ever touches him like that, nobody ever hugs him, holds his hand, makes him feel wanted. He wonders if you know how worked up you get him, if you can tell his heart is racing, or know the reason why he's shifting is because his slacks are getting tight. 

11:56, now. Aki's head is spinning. 

This is stupid, wrong of him, even. He's not super close to you. You're just one of the Public Safety office workers. If he wants to be technical, he could be considered your superior, actually. A superior fantasizing about one of the little devil hunter assistants. He's terrible. 

Aki can't help but yearn to feel your touch elsewhere, everywhere. He needs it, needs you, warmth buds in his core and there's a steady ache between his legs. He was short on breath before, when you'd grabbed his arm and pressed real close, and even now, just from thinking about it, he's — 

Fuck. Aki twists, rolling from his side onto his back, he rubs his knotted up temple with his finger and his thumb. It's too much. You're going to be the death of him. 

His breath comes out heavy and shaking and loud in his ears. His chest rises up and down, his trembling fingers slip under the blanket, then underneath the waistband of his sweats, and his heart begins to pound faster in anticipation, hammering against his ribs.

He hesitates for a second. In the end, he gives in like he always does. Shame pools thick in the pit of his stomach, but it isn't enough to stop him from working his hand down — His palm brushes the soft fabric of his briefs, he gropes the shape of his cock through his boxers and he's already stiff. He sighs, he lets his head toss back. 

You'll forgive him for this, right? You'd forgive him for getting hard when all you did was barely touch him, and for using thoughts of you to get himself off, wouldn't you? He's just so lonely, so stressed out, that's all this is. You have to forgive him, you have to understand. Aki swiftly decides you would, because he can't wait any longer; he's been needy like this for hours upon hours now and at this point, it's far too late for him to stop. 

Aki pushes the blanket away, he tugs his sweats and his briefs down to his thighs at the same time, he hisses when his cock comes free. Slowly, he wraps his palm around, and he brings his thumb to the head, rubs it slow, feels himself throb steadily in his hand. 

He's already dripping, precum beads in droplets at his slit and dribbles down to dirty his knuckles, each of his fingers. There's wetness sticking to his palm. A disgusting sound echoes as he pumps himself, up and down nice and careful, his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. 

It feels so fucking good. Aki groans in pleasure, immediately forgets how perverted this is, he closes his eyes, thinks of you. He isn't the type to do this, he's never felt this way about anyone, he doesn't even touch himself because he's never had a reason to — but you've changed everything. 

You're the reason for this, and when he's got his cock in his fist, you're all he can think about. He imagines your touch, your voice, your warm breath on his skin. Aki tries to picture how it'd feel to kiss you, to press his lips on yours and have your tongue in his mouth. How it'd feel to hold you, to have you be the one to jerk him off. 

Your hands are so perfect; Aki's memorized the way they look, the way they fold when you're writing or grabbing his arm or holding your drink. They're dainty compared to his, they'd probably feel softer, so much gentler. Ever since a few weeks ago, he's fallen into the habit of using his left hand to touch himself as opposed to his right. It's clumsier this way, but it's easier to imagine his hand is someone else's, yours. 

Your soft hand around his dick, stroking him just like this — Aki doesn't know if he'd be able to last. If he'd even be able to look at you, let alone talk, let alone do anything but plead your name.

Your fingers are so pretty, you'd complimented him once, Aki remembers how you sat next to him and intently watched him sign paperwork like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He'd shaken his head and written you off then, but he wants to know if you'd compliment him again, if you'd still think so when his fingers are cradling your face or pushing past your lips. 

Would you still think he's as pretty — his fingers wrapped around his cock, his hair down and how you like it, his earrings you say you like so much glinting in the low light — if you saw him like this? 

He wonders if you'd tease him the same as you do at the office. Oh, Mister Hayakawa, you've been wanting this for so long, haven't you? You're so fucking dirty. How long have you been jerking yourself off every night to the thought of me? So damn needy, you just want me to take care of you, huh? 

Yeah, he's dirty, he's rocking his hips into his grip, he's whining and sighing soft gasps of pleasure, louder than he probably should be. He's pumping his fist faster as he pictures your face down between his legs; you'd look precious with your hair tucked back, your lips would feel as plush as he'd imagined and you'd stare up at him with such an innocent expression, your eyes practically sparkling as you take his cock in your mouth. 

He can't take it. Aki pants with weight behind every breath, he twists his wrist and squeezes, pumps even faster and thinks he just might lose his mind right here — and then, he takes his hand away. 

He lets go, his dick falls against his stomach and he keeps one hand in his hair and the other beside him, despite how badly his nerves are screaming for him to keep touching. He allows his breath to even out, stares at the ceiling and waits for his mind to clear.

He doesn't want to cum yet. Not when it's only been a few minutes. If he cums now, he'll probably get too exhausted to cum a second time. So he can't, not right now, not when he has more he wants to think about. 

Twisting over on his side, Aki brushes his bangs away when they fall messily around his face. He presses his palm to his forehead, feeling the sweat trickling from his skin. His fingers twitch. He debates what he's about to do for a few seconds.

He shouldn't, it'll be a hassle. But when he knows how good it's going to feel, he can't resist. Hurrying, he lifts his head and grabs his pillow from underneath, he adjusts, burying his face in the sheets when it starts to feel warmer. He situates himself on his stomach, pillow firm between his legs. 

Deep, slow rolls of his hips cause him to forget any of the sense he was still holding onto. He exhales hard, shakes even harder. Aki fists the sheets in a tight hand, he leans his head into his forearm, he grinds his aching cock against his pillow until his thighs are beginning to hurt.

If he was more confident, confident enough to tell you how he feels, maybe he wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe if you knew, you'd let him fold you over his bed and fuck you just like how he's been dreaming of, slowly and dizzyingly tender, enough to make him forget about everything else. Maybe. If he's good. God, does he even deserve it? 

Either way, it doesn't matter what he wants. He'll do whatever the hell you ask him to, whatever you'd be willing to give him he'd be happy with — He'd be content just fucking the space between your thighs, or having you talk to him while he gets himself off and humps his pillow like a pathetic idiot; anything you want, whatever you want. As long as you're there, as long as he can hear your voice and feel your touch, and not be so alone. 

The smooth cotton of his pillowcase is slick and wet with his precum. His cock is throbbing incessantly, pleasure spreads through his entire body and he doesn't care that his mattress is squeaking, that he's losing rhythm. He breathes heavy with every rut of his hips and imagines you're here, you're beneath him. 

Arms strung around him tight, you'd lock eyes with him and he wouldn't dare to look away. Feels so good, you're perfect, Aki, you'd praise, and he loves your praises, You wanna cum? Oh, but you can hold out for a little longer for me, can't you? 

Aki shivers. Of course. If you're the one asking him, he just has to. Especially when you call him Aki.

Aki, that's it, keep going. You're so sweet, so good for me. I belong to you. I'm all yours, forever and ever. Does that make you happy?

You're his, all his. You'd sound so perfect moaning his name as he bullies his cock into you. His first name, his and no-one else's, no extra politeness or honorifics. You'd say it softly as he slides inside, say it when you're begging him to fill you deeper, repeat it when you're telling him he's got to beg for you if he wants to finish. 

C'mon, Aki. Cum for me. Give me all of it. 

Yeah, Aki mumbles out loud to himself, his voice is breaking, he thrusts his hips with reckless abandon, I'll give you everything, oh, f-fuck, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum… 

He shoves his face into the bed as much as he can manage to muffle his noise, his fragile moans and loud whimpers. His shoulders tense, muscles aching. A few more shallow movements and he's done; he chants your name over and over again as he finishes, cumming all over his pillow and his sheets, thick ropes of white dirtying the fabric, making a mess. 

Falling limp, Aki lays like that for a while, catching his breath. Everything begins to fade, working through to tiredness. He should get up and shower, wash his sheets and his pillowcase, but he's so exhausted he can't even manage to move. 

He feels warm all over again, just less intense this time. Aki realizes he was saying your name as he came. Embarrassing. He can only hope he wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear. 

He'll fall asleep now, at least, with warm thoughts of you to fill his head. A date with you would be nice sometime. Nothing too crazy. He'd take you anywhere you wanted to. He also wouldn't mind taking you back to his apartment and making you something for dinner, whatever you'd like. 

If you were here now, he'd hold you as close as he can get you, breathing soft and slow while drifting off silently, his arms wrapped secure around your waist.

He's almost asleep. But —

Ah. He'd forgotten he has to work at the office tomorrow. So he's going to have to face you, first thing in the morning. 

The next time he sees you, he doubts he'll be able to do much talking. But he'll get busier soon, there's a lot of devil hunting missions coming up. Who knows when Aki is going to see you next, so if he doesn't tell you his feelings soon, when will he? 

He's decided. Tomorrow, he's going to ask you out. 

[uravitypng]

Hi! I love your Bully!Tsukishima posts <3 I was wondering what would happen if his princess arrived to class with a bruise that he didn’t make? She’d deny everything at first, using an excuse style “I tripped” “fell on the shower”…but he wouldn’t believe that crap, not one bit!

I kinda want to see more of protective Tsukishima >_<

🍓:3

i'm glad you like my bully!tsukki posts!! this idea took awhile to flesh out and hopefully you like the way this turned out. this is slightly different from the regular protective tsukishima as this bruise was accidental <33

tsukishima remembers every little thing about you, remembers every fact, every mannerism, every freckle, scar and curve of your body so of course he clocked immediately when you walked into class with a bruise just peaking out of the top of your blouse. it's barely visible as the blouse covers most of it and he thinks you may have tried to cover some of it with make up but with it right above your cleavage it's obvious to him.

the entire time all he can think about is you, which isn't uncommon in the slightest, but this time it's all focused on the bruise and how you got it.

he knows for a fact it isn't one of his, plus if for some reason he had forgotten about it you would remember and know better than to ever try and cover it up.

after class you leave quickly, purposefully avoiding making eye contact with tsukishima. you have a feeling he's spotted the bruise that has started forming on your soft skin, as you walked in you spotted him and saw his eyes harden as his eyes looked to where your bruise is. it was just a coincidence you looked over towards him though... it's not like whenever you turn up late and he's there before you you look to see if he's in his regular seat... it's not like you were checking to see if he's here yet or anything...

you turned up late today because you were trying to find clothes that would cover the bruise, all the clothes that would cover it are clothes you're currently washing or are dirty and need to be washed. because of that you spent longer than you wanted to finding something that you felt comfortable wearing and covered as much as possible but you had a feeling after you left your dorm that maybe you should of spent longer finding something because tsukishima might notice, even if it was only a sliver of it visible, and you were right. he did notice.

you were a little too slow leaving the class though because tsukki was able to catch up to you. he looks at your bruise and his eyebrows furrow, loosely clasping onto your wrist and taking you somewhere quiet, neither of you speak yet. you're getting use to this routine of him stealing you away.

he turns to you and crosses his own arms, "talk." you nibble your lip and try to shift your eyes away from him, looking down.

"i... uh... tripped," you say nervously.

"liar."

you pause for a second running through excuses in your head but the whole time tsukishima's waiting patiently, ready to hear if you're going to lie again.

you take a deep breath and look up at him. you can tell him. he won't believe any of your excuses anyway.

"um.. someone accidentally flicked me with a ruler and well..."

there's a pause and you continue looking up at him. "no."

"what... what do you mean no?" you say baffled, you're honestly being truthful right now.

"i promise that's what happened. a friend of a friend was messing and joking around. he had this stupid ruler in his hand and was waving it about and then he playfully flicked me with it. he didn't think it would bruise or even hurt and it didn't hurt! ... that much. it was stupid and an accident." you explain further, wanting him to believe you.

"who was it?" he straightens his back and asks without displaying any emotion in his face or tone.

"we're not doing this again tsukki. it was an accident, just an accident. i'm not giving you any name." you think back to the bully incident.

tsukishima's lip twitches in annoyance. "tell me." you say no again. "i'm sure one of your friends will tell me."

your eyes go wide at the subtle threat, you have a gut feeling that he would be able to get one of your friends to tell him who it was. it really was an accident though.

"one last chance princess."

you hold onto his arm, almost startling him at the sudden contact. "please kei, don't. i promise it was an accident. they were really sorry afterwards and felt really bad about it. they even offered to pay for the drink i had to say sorry."

tsukishima's expression softened momentarily at the use of his given name before going back to normal. maybe he could leave it alone and not do anything about it but you said it hurt, even if it was only a bit. "you told me he hurt you," he starts to pull away from you to leave but you don't let him and hold onto him tighter.

"please kei. it was a mistake. it will fade in a couple days anyway, it's only a light mark. come on, tsukishima." you plead, still holding yourself against his arm to keep him from leaving.

his resolve weakens the more he feels your soft warm body press against him and the idea that the bruise is only light is making him think about how he can cover it with his own bruise, giving you a huge hickey so for now he relents, something he never thought he'd do. the only reason he isn't really chasing after who did it right now was because you asked him not to. you basically begged him not to. you called him kei. if it ever happens again they'll regret it, it doesn't matter if it was an accident.

"i want you to know that if anything else happens i won't stop until i find out their name."

you hum in response, confirming your understanding, and give a small smile knowing that you were able to stop him and he listened to you. you're aware that if it happens again you won't be able to stop him though.

tsukishima gives you a look that says 'why aren't you verbally telling me you understand.' "okay tsukki," you respond quieter than you have been talking all this time, "and thank you," you add on even quieter, almost silently.

he hears but chooses not to respond. "i think i've figured out a solution to the bruise situation." you don't really know if this is a situation but you keep listening. "i'll just have to give you a bigger bruise on top of it." his hand reaches behind you to your skirt and lifts up your skirt slightly before pinching your ass, you let out a yelp, and he smirks. "i think you need another hickey. i think all the others have faded by now and you need a new one."

he knows of every single friend you have but the following day he watches you even closer to see if anyone acts different. he found them. just like you said, a friend of a friend in a study group. it's kind of weird how bokuto owed him a favour and that weekend at a party your friend's girlfriend kissed bokuto, weird right? they broke up obviously.

bully tsukishima masterlist

[junosmindpalace]

can you make a scenario where saiki accidentally makes his s/o cry so now he literally panicking trying to calm her down? and then out of guilt for the next few weeks he doing all these sweet things for her?

lots of fluff please!

hi there! thank you for your request!

Last week, Saiki was caught up in an incident.

There was just a lot going through his mind, alright? His parents were on his case about errands--particularly his father, exhausting his powers for his own needs--and his friends kept finding ways to drag him along in their endeavors, and he was worn out; both physically and mentally. 

The second he thinks he gets a mental break to himself to recover, you come along and try to make conversation with that irritatingly cheerful voice he’s been having to listen to as people tear him from limb to limb trying to get him to do this and that for them.

So he accidentally comes off a little harsh when he tells you with a murderous glare to just leave him alone. 

And you know Saiki, and Saiki knows you. You know the stress he’s often under, and he knows you just want to spend some time with him. Neither of you have a problem with either of these things usually, but today, it was just a jumble of emotions and some miscommunication that made it all fall apart. 

You try to understand, and you do! But even still, you couldn’t help feeling bad for upsetting him, and are unable to prevent the stray tears that pricked at your eyes from rolling down your cheeks. You immediately wipe them away with the palm of your hand and give him an apologetic smile, but Saiki immediately panics. 

He panics a little simply recalling the incident, even a week later when you’ve practically forgotten all about your crying and getting your feelings hurt. Still, Saiki feels bad, and ever since the incident occurred, he’s been trying to dull the guilt and sense of obligation to compensate for his actions in his heart. 

But though it doesn't seem like he's doing anything unique to an outsider who may not know him very well, you can tell the small shift in his attitude toward you in the weeks following the incident.

Seeing you splayed out in distress over a desk is a sight Saiki has become accustomed to with all the time you spend studying together. Typically, a couple of "motivating" words from him telling you to just pull yourself together and break down the material is enough to get you to begrudgingly pull yourself up and work. As of late, however, he'll tells you to stop moaning about your work when it gets too difficult to understand or you’re too tired to comprehend any of the material, and to just copy off him. He words it in a way that makes it seem that it's to his benefit, but usually Saiki wasn’t the type to lend you his work, believing that you should put in effort yourself, even when you’re whining about it. 

He sacrifices life and limb to help you with your daily tasks. Mundane things he knows you can handle yourself, but now his absolute first instinct is to immediately look for ways he can help you, even if he rolls his eyes and reprimands you at first. Lost something of yours? He’s using clairvoyance to track it down. Forgot something at a certain place when you go out? He’s fighting off traffic, interrogations from his friends, and all the other absurd obstacles he often finds interfering in his everyday life just so he can bring it back to you without raising suspicions of his powers. 

And if all those things weren’t obvious enough he’s been trying to atone, he buys you sweets. All of your favorites over the past couple of weeks, paid in full by him whenever the two of you order or stop by a bakery or restaurant. Maybe one found on your desk throughout the school day. He even shares with you his own if you ask or eye them longingly. 

All of these seemingly menial acts leave you a little suspicious, especially since it had been days since the event happened, and it hadn't taken much time for you to come around from the incident and continue being yourself. You expected that his offer to listen to your rant would be the extent of his atonement. Could he really still be stuck on it?

Your speculation is pretty much confirmed that these things were all attempts at making up for his poor behavior when he finds him yet again in a similar situation, exhausted and frustrated thanks to all the nuisances in his life. And then you come skipping along happily, greeting him with news of your day. His brows furrow, his eye twitches, and he’s about to open his mouth. And then he meets your gaze and he pauses. Takes a second. Remembers what happened last time, can see a flash of that pained face you made. 

You give him a look of confusion as you observe his expression. At that point, he can only sigh and slump back. 

"Saiki?”

"Let’s just go home and talk.”

You might catch onto his drained attitude, and offer to take him to one of his favorite dessert places as a treat to refresh and an apology for not recognizing his burden sooner. He’s immediately brightened by this, of course, and you end off with a win-win situation, with Saiki being able to wind down with some treats, and you being able to spill about your day sitting across from him.