𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵❤️🖤

Law had never been particularly fond of dreams. They were never kind to him. Faces of those he’d lost, those he failed to save, mistakes he couldn’t undo all haunted him at night. He was reluctant to sleep at all most days, only giving in after you or Bepo had forced him to lay down and exhaustion overpowered him. Once he would have been grateful for pleasant dreams or a full night’s sleep. 

Law! Yes, Law!

Your voice haunted him, the image of you on top of him. The way you so sweetly called for him, the way you clenched around him, the way your chest bounced with every movement. God, it was intoxicating. He would give anything to hear you call his name like that again. Anything except risk your friendship, one of the only things that kept him grounded in life. When he woke up from the first dream, a stain on his pants and shame in his heart, he swore he would never let something like this affect your relationship.

But then it happened again.

And again.

And again.

Always something different. Sometimes you were on top of him, sometimes below him, sometimes on your knees, sometimes bent over his desk. Every time your beautiful eyes blinked at him, filled with tears of pleasure, your sweet voice keening for him to give you more, more, more. And every time he woke up to a problem needing to be solved and more feelings to push deep down, never to return. Until the next night, when it happened again.

He had never been more grateful that he had his own room. He can’t imagine how humiliating it would be if someone else saw him like this, biting down on his pillow as he rut into his own hand. If someone saw the way tears slipped down his lashes as he sped up, heard his cry of your name muffled into the fabric between his teeth, he would never be able to recover.

But luckily, no one ever would. His shame would stay in the dim light of his cabin, and his carefully protected image of control would remain unblemished. You’d never suspect a thing.

But the thoughts remain.

And he could handle that, really, he could. He’s a grown man, he can control himself. But you just keep pushing him, not even knowing what you’re doing. It’s small things, really. Yesterday, when you laughed at a dumb joke Shachi told you, you leaned forward enough to show off just a hint of your cleavage. Something that shouldn’t even phase him, but made him white knuckle the table to stop himself from throwing you over his shoulder and marching down to his room. 

The day before that, you put your hand on his knee during dinner, thumb gently brushing against him as you smiled and told him you thought everything was going to be okay. You’ve comforted him like that a thousand times, but he couldn’t focus on the tender tone of your voice, only the feeling of the warmth of your hand seeping through his pants. He imagined that hand sliding higher and higher, how that warmth would feel somewhere else.

He had to excuse himself from dinner. You thought he was still upset, tried to follow him in concern, and he just barely managed to fend you off before he ran to his bathroom and took care of the hard-on you’d given him. He prayed you didn’t hear his quiet moans of your name or the sound of him pumping his cock in his hand.

A thousand small things, ways you show you care or small motions that show off your body, all building pressure that threatens to burst whenever he looks at you, threatens his carefully crafted control. 

You’re so determined to break him, but he remains strong.

Until you wake him halfway through the worst dream yet.

Law! Law! God, yes, Law! Your voice is still ringing in his ears, your cunt still tightening around his cock, as your hand shakes him awake.

“Law! You can’t sleep here, you’ll fuck up your back.” Your voice is so soft, so concerned, as you try to pull him up from his desk. He can already feel the pain in his spine as you pull him to his feet, but he can’t bring himself to care right now.

He’s hard, he’s horny, and you’re right here, your hands on him as he can still hear you screaming his name.

He takes a step forward, his arms threatening to wrap around you, and he can just barely process that you’ve removed your hands from him as your eyes shift away from him.

“Law?” Your voice is meek, nervous, not at all like his dreams. But the red on your cheeks, the way your eyes shine? Those are familiar. He’s so close now.

“Do you know how hard it’s been?” He can barely keep the shake from his voice.

“What?” You take a step back, but your back hits the wall behind you.

“I’ve been holding back for months. Trying to keep control, to not ruin this, but you just,” he takes a step forward.

“Keep,” another step.

“Haunting me.” Your chests are pressed together, and he can feel every breath of yours as your tits press against him. They feel even better than he imagined. He almost expects you to push him away, to run, but you don’t. Instead you stare at him with your stupid, beautiful doe eyes, lips slightly parted, face flushed, and he can’t hold back anymore.

Your lips are soft. They’re slightly tacky from your chapstick, and he’s delighted to find it makes you taste like strawberries. You tense for a moment, and he fears he’s frightened you, ruined everything, but then your arms wrap around him and he knows you’ve wanted this just as badly as he has.

His hands grip your ass as his tongue presses firmly against your lips, which you almost immediately part wider to allow him better access. One of your hands presses firmly against his back, while the other slides forward to grope at his chest. Your fingers press into his shirt, seemingly torn between pulling him closer and feeling every inch of him beneath your fingertips. His hips roll against his will, and the whimper you let out into his mouth destroys what little self control he has left.

He lifts you with ease, pulling you impossibly closer, before throwing you onto his desk, papers and logs be damned. Nothing on it is more important than him being inside of you as soon as humanly possible. In his dreams, he always stripped slowly and sensually, teasing you until you were begging for his touch, his cock, but he’s going to explode if he isn’t inside you within the minute. He practically rips off your uniform, throwing it behind him, where he can hear it take something that sounds suspiciously like his lamp down with it, glass shattering when it hits the floor. He can’t bring himself to give a shit.

“Law,” you say in that squeaky little voice you always get when you’re surprised. “What’s—”

Your sentence breaks off into a moan as he sinks his teeth into your neck. He can smell your shampoo mixing with the scent of your sweat, and god he really might break this desk beneath you if you keep driving him insane. Your hand shoots to the back of his head, gripping his hair and tugging as you continue to let out little whimpers and moans with every thrust of his clothed hips against your panties. 

“Every night, you ruin me, and I have to wake up and pretend to forget,” he groans into your neck. “Every night you give me everything I’ve ever wanted just to take it away. You’re cruel.”

He wants to take off his jeans, but he can’t bring himself to remove his hands from you. You’re so much better than his dreams, soft and warm and real beneath his fingers. His mind could never have conjured up such a perfect feeling.

You must have read his mind, because your hands slide his coat from his shoulders, fingers tracing his abs down to his waist. He’s so lost in the feeling he doesn’t understand your intent until you let out an adorable frustrated huff. “Stop moving for a second,” you snap, fingers struggling to grab the button of his jeans.

“I don’t know if I can.”

“If you tackled me to the desk so you can grope me while you cum in your pants I’m leaving.”

The laugh that rips through him stills him just long enough for you to pop the button and rip his pants and underwear down. The fabric catches on his thighs, but you’re stuck, frozen, watching his cock spring out of its prison. Law has always been proud of his body, but nothing has made him feel sexier than watching the way your mouth falls open looking at him.

“You’re drooling,” he chuckles.

“I am,” you say, not taking your eyes off of his dick. You reach for it, fingers tracing lightly up his length, and watch as it twitches in response.

“Don’t tease me,” Law says through gritted teeth. One hand grips the desk for dear life, the only thing holding him back from slamming into you like an animal.

“Oh? Don’t what? I couldn’t hear you.” Your fingers trace back down, following the vein, touching enough to stimulate but not enough to pleasure.

Law is a proud man. He does not beg. He would never—

“God, please—” His voice breaks off once you mercifully wrap your fingers around him, thumb rubbing briefly against the head. He shudders, head falling forward, pressing himself as deeply into you as he physically can.

“It’s even bigger than I imagined,” you murmur.

“You imagined me?” He tries to make his voice sexy and gruff, but it comes out as more of a whine.

“All the time.”

He latches onto your neck, both to get himself to stop talking before he makes himself sound as undone as he feels, and to mark you as his. He desperately needs to leave some kind of sign that this happened, something to tell him tomorrow this wasn’t just another one of his tortuous little dreams. This is real, it is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and by god is he going to make sure he remembers every single moment.

His free hand reaches for your panties, pulling them down far more carefully than he did your uniform. The delicate lace is a bit less durable than thick canvas. You hiss as your cunt is exposed to the air, your hand slightly tightening around his cock.

He removes himself from your neck to look you in the eye. Your face is flushed, your pupils blown out, and your hair is a mess. You look beautiful. “Ready?”

“Please fuck me already, Captain.”

You barely have time to get your hand out of the way before he’s slamming into your entrance, the force of it shaking the desk beneath you. You feel heavenly, warm and wet, clenching around him. Law lets out an absolutely mortifying noise, halfway between a moan and groan, and you clench around him tighter in response.

“God—”

“Oh Law—”

His dreams didn’t compare to the real thing. Your voice dripping with desire and want, the friction as he pulled out inch by torturous inch, it was beyond dream or fiction. He could never have conceived something so wonderful. He ruts back into you, to the hilt this time, your hips slamming together with near bruising force. The desk shakes again, creaking dangerously, but he doesn’t give a shit and he can’t imagine you do either. 

One hand remains on your hip to stabilize you, and the other takes the opportunity to explore your chest as he kisses you. Your teeth clack together, your noses bumping, but none of the awkwardness detracts from the feeling of your soft lips against his. You easily allow his tongue into your mouth, putting up no fight to the tidal wave of lust driving him to consume you whole. 

Your chest is so soft beneath Law’s fingers he could weep. His teenage self would have killed a man to feel this, and frankly, he still would now. You whine into his mouth when he pinches your nipple, a sound that he swallows greedily. He wants every part of you, every noise and smell and feeling you can offer.

He tries to keep control of his hips, but he can feel his pace growing quick and sloppy. He wants so desperately to remain in control of everything, to spend the entire night giving you all of the pleasure you could stand, but you feel so good around him and he’s needed this for so very long.

He pulls back for a breath, chest heaving, and he sees your eyes have grown unfocused, your mouth still open as the spit connecting you catches the light.

“Law, yes, god, yes!” You sing like an angel. He can feel your legs growing tense as they tighten around his hips, and he’s assured to know you’re as out of control as he is. His hand reaches down, his fingers not hesitating for a second before finding your clit. His rough fingers press against you, rubbing experimentally as he tries to follow your expressions to see what way will best make you fall apart beneath him. You’re far too gone for such intense study, as every move he makes brings you closer to the edge. Your nails dig into his back, dragging down his shoulderblades, and it takes everything in him not to cum instantly. He’ll be damned if he cums before you do.

Your breath quickens as your moans turn to high pitched whines, growing louder and louder until one final thrust and rub brings you beyond the edge. You throw your head back and scream, your arms pulling him closer until your chests touch, your legs wrapping around him and locking him in place. You spasm around his cock, squeezing as though your life depends on it, and he follows soon after with the small thrusts your legs will allow him.

You collapse beneath him, boneless, as he comes as deep into you as he physically can. He falls on top of you soon after, barely catching himself on his forearms to keep from crushing you. His chest heaves as he tries and fails to catch his breath, so instead of breathing he settles for suffocating while admiring your beautiful flushed face. Your eyelids have fallen shut, your mouth letting out little puffs of air as you struggle with the same problem he is. His dreams never got this far, to the after.

It’s amazing.

You look so amazing fucked-out beneath him, a smile on your face that he’s sure you aren’t even aware is there. He could live in this moment forever, just staring at you, knowing he’s the one who made you look like this.

Even as he leans forward a little too far and a loud crack lets him know the desk is giving out beneath you.

He just barely manages to pull you on top of him so his back hits the floor instead of yours. You’re tucked into his chest, his arms wrapped around you protectively. You stare at the desk’s remains as he stares at you, and when you laugh, his chest tightens. God, he might be more in love with you than before.

As he lifts you, watching the way your eyes sparkle as you giggle and ask how he’s going to explain the desk to the crew, he thinks he can live with some more frustrating dreams. It’ll never compare to the real thing, and he has a feeling you won’t mind him coming to you for more help in the future.

The place was already quiet, and he wasn't surprised to find you had already gone to bed. He had gotten home nearly four hours later than he had planned, he never expected you to wait up so late.

He was sure you had tried though.

He made quick work of his gear and clothes as he made his way down the hall to the bedroom — helmet left too close to the edge of the counter, and the rest of his gear tossed on the back of the couch, the seat of a chair, left in the middle of the floor. He'd pick it up later, he only had the energy to think about one thing right now.

And maybe part of him wanted to hear you lecture him about the mess he made.

By the time he pushed the bedroom door open he had stripped down to his boxers and undershirt. He figured that was good enough to satisfy your 'no outside clothes in the bed' rule, and lowered himself onto the mattress next to you.

You were curled up on your side, knees tucked close to your body, your back towards his side of the bed, hands folded near you in that way he knew was going to me you complain about your wrists being sore in the morning.

It made me smile a bit as he tucked himself close to you, hand sliding across your hip and up until his palm pressed flat against your tummy, fingers spread out to pull you closer.

He wasn't trying to wake you up, but he wasn't exactly trying to keep you asleep either. And he wouldn’t deny the little flutter in his chest when you mumbled his name half asleep.

“Hey, baby” He answered against your temple, “I woke you up ?”

He knew the answer already, but you still tried to tell him you’d already been awake.

“How was patrol ?” You asked, eyes still closed.

Jason’s fingers pressed into your front a little harder at the question “Was shit, baby” He answered, head moving down to your neck, he pressed his lips against the warmth as he continued; “Nothin’ went right, nobody listened to a damn word I said. Got me all worked up, pretty girl.”

You only replied with a quiet hum, still awake but barely.

Jason’s hand moved lower, pushing up the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing – which he was pretty sure had been his at one point, before you decided to change that – and toying with the waist band of your panties.

“Jay …” You mumbled, halfheartedly pushing his hand away. It was nothing more than a slow brush of your fingers against his knuckles before your hand returned to its original position tucked under your chin.

“I know” He whispered, fingertips dipping under the fabric “I know you’re tired, baby. You don’t gotta do anythin’, just lemme have this, yeah ? That okay ?”

You took a moment to answer, long enough Jason thought you’d fallen asleep again, before giving him a small, sleepy “Mhm” and a slow nod.

It felt like the entire night had been lifted off his shoulders, finally something was going his way. His head lifted again to kiss your cheek, your temple, and then your cheek again before tucking his face back into the side of your neck. “Sweet baby, so good to me baby.”

He moved his hand up, pressing his middle and ring finger against your bottom lip. They parted without him having to ask. Your lips closed around them, giving slow sleepy sucks to his fingers.

“My sweet girl,” He cooed, rolling his hips in slow circles against your backside “My perfect girl”

His fingers pressed down against your tongue as you sucked and licked, drool pooling around them. His other hand made quick work pushing his boxers down, just enough to pull himself free, he was already hard, flushed tip already shiny with leaking precum.

He pressed the head where your thighs met and pulled his fingers from your mouth with a wet ‘pop’ that made his cock twitch against your skin. You mumbled something barely legible, but enough to let him know you were at least still awake when he spit covered fingers dipped into your underwear.

They slid between the folds a few times before his fingertips found your clit. You shifted, giving him a muffled, closed mouth whine.

“I know,” He whispered, a heavy breath brushing against your skin. His hips moved forwards, pushing himself between the fat of your thighs.

“Fuckin’ hell, baby” he groaned, rocking himself back and forth between your legs as his fingers rubbed over your folds and played with the bundle of nerves above them, flicking and pinching gently with his fingertips “Missed you s’ much. You’re the only thing left that’s right in this goddamned city”

His head came up again to press his lips against your cheek, holding them there as he fucked your thighs. More precum dribbled from the fat head of his cock, smearing against your skin, and making soft squelching sounds as he moved. His fingers moved faster across your warm cunt, until he got you wet enough to dip his middle finger inside. You only answered with dreamy whines and soft moans.

“Gonna steal you away from here one day” He mumbled, his free hand coming up behind your head to turn your face towards his. His mouth slotted against yours, tongue immediately making a home past your lips. “Gonna run away with you, no one’s ever gonna hear from us again. Get you all to myself, new life far away from this fuckin’ place. Wherever you wanna go, baby. That sound nice ?”

You slurred something he barely caught, and his mouth was on yours again. Sure he was just being dramatic, Jason would probably never be able to leave this gunmetal city. But the thought of it was enough, and he thought of it often.

“Need you, pretty girl” He whispered into your mouth. Jason had never been above begging for you. He did it as easy as breathing, especially when he was like this “That okay ? C’mon, use your words angel.”

“S’ okay” You answered, voice soft around the edges, heavy with that honey-warm dreaminess.

The way Jason’s chest flooded with warmth you have thought you just told him he was being handed everything he had ever wanted. Which, in some sort of way, he had been.

“Thank you, sweetheart” He pulled himself from between your thighs, a string of precum connected the tip to your warm skin. He could’ve cum just from the sight of that alone. “Oh, God, you’re so good for me. You’re perfect. Fuckin’ perfect.”

His hand slid between your legs, lifting it to bring it back over his own, bending it at the knee.

He didn’t bother pulling your underwear off all the way, just hooked his fingers into the fabric and pushed it to the side, holding it there as he lined himself up. He rubbed the thick length of his cock across the wet folds, covering it with your arousal before he lined himself up with your entrance.

Jason wasted no time pushing himself in, making soft shushing and cooing sounds against your temple as he pressed into you. He knew he wasn’t small, far from it. And he always tried to be careful with you, he’d be buried again before ever doing anything to hurt you.

“I know, angel” He whispered, pushing forwards one more time until he was bottomed out inside you. “You’re doing so good.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing soothing circles across it. It was nearly enough for him just feeling your walls flutter and squeeze around him. You relaxed enough eventually for him to give a few slow, steady rocks in and out of your warm hole.

“Jay –” You whined

“It’s okay.” He replied, hand moving to pull your leg up further on his before returning to your clit “You’re okay. Missed bein’ home. Missed bein’ home so much, doll.”

It didn’t take you too long before the knot in your tummy snapped, gummy walls squeezing around him as heat rushed through you, and stars lit up behind your eyelids. Your hips jerked against his as you gasped for air.

He slowed but didn’t stop as your hips and legs twitched from overstimulation. “Almost there, baby. Just a little longer, okay ? Can you hold on just a little longer, just a bit and then –”

He was cut off by a low moan, his own organsm flooding through him. “Fuck, baby. Oh Fuck —” His cock twicthed, coating the inside of your achey cunt with warm, thick cum. He didn’t pull out, not yet. He pressed himself deeper, settling inside you as he caught his breath.

His mouth found yours again, spilling praise after praise against your lips. Almost worshipful in the way he adored you so much.

the dorm room was cramped, your twin bed pushed against the wall. mark sat on the edge, his broad shoulders made the desk chair appear smaller than usual. you’d been studying for what seems like hours, but the words blurred into meaningless chatter. you could only focus on the thoughts that clouded your mind. your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him stretch, his t shirt riding up to reveal his toned stomach.

“i should get going”, he said gathering his things. his voice was low that alone was enough to make your thighs press together. your hands trembled as you reached out, your fingers brushed against his wrist. “wait”, mark paused finally looking at you again. the room felt too small,too quiet. “mark?”, your voice came out almost like a whine. “can … can i try something?”, his full attention was now on you. you felt even smaller. “what kind of something?”

you slid off the bed, knees hitting the ground. your hands rested on his thighs, the denim felt rougher than usual. looking at him from his angle sent desire throughout your body. “i want ..”, you swallowed, your throat feeling dryer than before. “i want you to fuck my throat” the words hung in the air, mark’s eyes widen at your request. you’ve never asked for something like this, let alone suggest something so vulgar.

“jesus, babe”, he breathed out. “where did that come from?” you leaned closer your breasts pressing against his knees. “please i want you to use me”, your fingers fumbled with his his zipper, the sound of it filling the silent dorm room. he didn’t stop you, his hands stayed steady against his sides. you finally freed his cock, your breath caught. he was bigger than you imagined, thick already hardening in your grip. “are you sure about this?”, his voice was now strained.

instead of answering, you wrapped your lips around his head. the taste was enough to cause you to moan around him. you took his deeper, your jaw stretching to accommodate his size. you felt your tongue flattened against the sensitive underside, drawing a sharp hiss from him. mark’s hands finally moved, tangling in your hair. his grip was gentle, almost hesitate to avoid hurting you. “fuck, your mouth..”

you moaned around him, the vibration causing his hips to jerk forward. taking a deep breath through your nose, you pushed yourself down further until it was too much for your throat to handle. you gagged slightly, eyes watering, but you didn’t pull away. “god”, he moaned out, his fingers tightening in your hair. “you weren’t kidding huh?”, you shook your head slightly, unable to speak with your mouth full of him.

his hips began to move, small shallow thrust that pushed him deeper. the tears streamed down your face now from the overwhelming desire you felt in this moment. then something shifted, the grip mark had on your hair almost grew painful yet sent shockwaves of pleasure to your aching cunt. “you want to be used, yeah?”, you shook head quickly. wanting nothing more for mark to lose control and use you like you’ve been imagining all this time.

he pulled back until the head of his cock remained in your mouth, then slammed forward. your throat convulsed around him, your pussy fluttered around nothing, arousal pooling between your legs. drool and pre cum dripped down your chin, covering your shirt. “you look so pretty like this”, he set a brutal pace, each thrust punched the air from your lungs. your hands clawed at his thighs, not to push him away but to anchor yourself as he used your throat.

“take it”, he demanded, his balls slapping against your chin. “take all of it baby”

your fingers slipped between your thighs, rubbing frantically at your clit through the jeans. the denim being enough to provide friction. mark noticed, of course he noticed and laughed at your desperate attempts. “can’t even wait, can you? so desperate for my cock you’ll cum just from being used”, his words was the final push you needed before cumming around nothing. your throat clenched around him as you came, tears flowing freely mixing with the spit and precum.

the apartment felt quiet, too quiet on a friday night. your fingers hovered the keyboard, mind wandering to places it shouldn’t. the familiar warmth between your thighs, you could never truly ‘fix’. you typed the website before you could second guess yourself. a cam site.

the site loaded, a familiar layout from previous late nights like this one. rows of thumbnails filled the screen, men in various states, some already stroking their cocks, others teasing the watching hungry audiences with slow movements.

your cursor scrolled past several options until one caught your eye. the preview showed an image of a man with his face tiled towards the camera, lips parted eyes heavy lidded with nothing but desire and pleasure. there it was, the small mole on his left cheek, the same one your best friend mark had. your first instinct was to close the tab, pretending you never saw this. but you remained frozen, fingers still on the trackpad.

mark’s face filled your screen, his cheeks flushed, brows furrowed with concentration. the ache between your thighs intensified, demanding your attention. your had slipped in your pajama shorts, fingers finding your slick folds. mark moaned, his hips thrusting into his fist.

“fuck.”, he breathed out, his voice growing deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “you guys are gonna make me cum.”, your circles on your clit quickened matching his rhythm. you’d never thought of mark this way, never allowing your mind to wander, he’s your childhood best friend, but despite the years of friendship seeing him like this. raw, unguarded, pleasuring himself with no care in the world awakened something in you. his other hand moved to cup his balls, rolling them gently in his hand as his strokes became more deliberate. precum beaded at his tip, glistening under the soft lighting of his room. you imagined your mouth wrapped around his cock, tasting him.

your fingers entered your cunt, plunging deeper, reaching the spot that made your toes curl. mark’s breathing grew uneven. the chat exploded, viewers encouraging him to cum, followed by tips. “close.”, he gasped his hand speeding up even more. “so fucking close.”

your own orgasm built quickly, a wave of pleasure washed over you. you watched as mark’s face twisted with pleasure, his body began to tense as he came closer to cumming. when he finally came, thick ropes of cum shot across his stomach and chest, your own release followed soon after. your cunt clenched around your fingers as you road out orgasm. the picture of mark burned into your mind, the way his mouth opened, the moans he made, how pretty he looked letting go.

you stared at the screen, full of bliss. mark began cleaning himself up, offering a tired but satisfied smile to his audience. this mark, the mark you’ve known since childhood, countless shared secrets was a camboy and he had no idea you just masturbated to his cam show.

you quickly closed the tab, heart still pounding in your chest. the apartment felt empty, now charged with a new dangerous secret. you couldn’t unsee what you witnessed. you later back on the couch cushions, thighs still trembling from the aftershocks of your orgasm. you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t move on. in fact you wanted more.

—

another friday show, the laptop humming against your thighs. you knew it was wrong to watch, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. you stared at your profile, ‘midnghtkiss’, the stream loaded. there he was, in nothing but black boxers that clung to him. “hi everyone.”, mark’s voice came through your speakers causing you to clench around nothing. he adjusted the webcam, leaning in closer. “tonight tips get to request, what do you guys want to see?”, your hands hover over the keyboard, this is it.

he started chatting with everyone, answering a few questions, everything felt so natural. you felt a surge of something throughout your body, was it pride, jealousy, possessiveness? you didn’t know. you took a deep breath before typing out a simple, ‘you look good tonight’. you hit enter before your nerves could take over, for a moment nothing happened. “thank you midnghtkiss.”, his voice was warm. hearing him say your name sent a jolt straight to your core. you squeezed your thighs together. slickness coating your panties.

the show progressed as normal, your breath hitched as he peeled off his boxers. his body looked even better than before. his hand ran against his chest, fingers brushing in the spot you’d seen covered in his cum. the chat went wild, you felt somewhat bold and empowered by anonymity. “alright guys, you’re very demanding tonight.”, this was your moment. you clicked the token icon, heart pounding. you selected the highest amount, wanting his attention.

‘midnghtkiss gifted 500 coins!’

the chat exploded, mark’s eyes widened at the notification. he looked directly at the camera, “well midnght.”, he whispered. “thank you for the tip, you get to call the shots for tonight.” your fingers flew to the keyboard, ‘touch yourself for me but, slow’

he read it, his smile widening. “as you wish.” his cock was thick and erect, the head already glistening with precum. he wrapped his hand around his cock, his eyes locked on the camera as if he was looking directly at you. mark’s hands moved slowly up and down his cock, each stroke making your cunt clench around nothing. “midnght want more?”, the sound vibrated through your body.

‘i want you to edge yourself yet you’re not allowed to cum unless i say so’, you typed out. a slow smirk covered his face. his hand stilled at the base of his cock, “feeling bossy tonight?”, he shifted in his chair, spreading even wider than before. the camera angle gave you the perfect view. you watched as his hand stroked his cock, imagining it was yours. “fuck.”, he breathed out, his head falling back against the chair. your cunt clenched at his words, the fabric of your panties were soaked, clinging to your swollen folds. you shifted trying to ease the growing ache between your thighs.

this all was intoxicating, your best friend completely at your mercy. unaware what you’re doing, commanding him completely at your mercy. the servers made everything feel hotter.

‘faster’

you typed out, your fingers trembling slightly. ‘i want to see you fall apart’

mark’s hands tightened around his cock, his strokes becoming more deliberate. precum beaded at his tip, he spread it over his head until it glistened wetly. the sound is his hand moving filled your apartment. “shit.”, he groaned, his hips rocking to meet his strokes.

‘stop’

his hand froze, his cock twitching violently in his hold. “what? no please.”, he begged. ‘i said stop let me see how badly you want it’

mark’s jaw tightened, but he obeyed. his cock stood up against his stomach, the head flushed leaking steadily on his abs. each pulse made it bounce, a drop of precum slide down his cock leaving a glistening trail. “fuck midnght.”, he panted out, his chest heaving. “this is torture.”, the chat filled with comments of others begging you to allow him to cum. you ignored them entirely focused on mark. “please.”, his voice deep with need. “i need it please.”

your fingers hovered the keys, the thrill of pleasure made your head spin. you could keep him like this for hours, every moment made your cunt clench.

‘soon’

mark’s relief was obvious, his right hand went to cup his balls, his fingers gently massaging the heavy flesh. his other hand remained holding the chair’s arm. “god i need this”, his words caused your breath to hitch. your hand drifted down your stomach, fingers sliding between your thick folds. you cracked your clit slowly, matching his rhythm. “i’m going to fuck my fist until i’m raw.”, you slipped two fingers inside your cunt, the wet sounds of your own pleasure filled the room. your fingers were coated in your juices, sliding in easily.

“please.”, he begged again. “i’ll do whatever you want, just let me cum.”, your fingers moved faster inside you, your thumb pressing hard against your clit. the thought of mark was too much. your hips bucked against your hand, chasing your own release.

“fuck fuck fuck.”, he chanted, his body arching. “please, i can’t hold it.”, he whimpered, tears brimming in his eyes. your own orgasm crashed over you. your cunt clenched hard around your fingers, body arching off the bed as you cried out.

though the haze of your release, mark continued to shake. his cock still hard and shaking with need. names flashed on the screen with tips demanding he cum, but none of them mattered. you took a deep breath, fingers stilled in your cunt.

‘cum’

a thick rope of cum shot from his cock, mark cried out a sound of pleasure and frustration coming from him. “fuck.”, he panted out. you watched through heavy lidded eyes, your body still humming from your own orgasm.

‘perfect’, you typed out. he laughed, the sound alone making your cunt clench again. “thank you midnghtkiss”, you leaned against your bed.

—

weeks went on, hiding behind a glowing screen. you found yourself constantly drawn to his channel. during the day, your friendship with mark remained unchanged. you grabbed coffee, binged terrible shows, complained about nonsense that bothered you. but, there was a secret you both had.

tonight you find yourself at his place, sat on the same couch you found yourself on but tonight felt different. mark scrolled on social media, laughing at some stupid video. your chest tightens as you remember seeing the same smile after you tipped him. “you okay?”, mark’s laughter faded as he noticed your silence. “you’ve been quiet since you got here.”

you picked a loose thread on your jeans, the weight of the secret crushing you. “mark…”, your voice comes out smaller than you intended. “i need to tell you something.” he sets his phone down, his full attention now on you. “remember how i told you i had issues sleeping”, your fingers twisted in your hoodie strings. “well, i found this site … this cam site.”, his expression remained unfazed. “yeah? lots of people watch those.”

your throat closes, “i found this one guy, he was really good. at first it was something to help me sleep, but then i got involved i started tipping, talking to him in chat.” the silence stretches, almost suffocating. “my username is midnghtkiss.”

something shifts, not anger, not betrayal, but something entirely different. “all those times..”, his voice was rough than usual. “all those commands, that was you?”, unable to speak the confession hangs in the air. you brace yourself for the end of your friend. instead mark shifts closer towards you, his thigh pressing against yours. “every time you typed out cum.”, his hands move towards your knee, curling around it. “i would get harder knowing someone was watching, someone controlling me.”, his thumb strokes your knee, the touch burning your body with desire. “but knowing it was you?”

your breath catches as his other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb tracing the outline of your jaw. “i’ve been thinking about who could possibly be midnghtkiss.”, he murmurs, his face inches away from yours. “wondering who she was, what she looked like, if i’d ever meet her.”, his gaze lowers to your lips. “i’d never imagine…”

you surge forward, crashing your mouth against his. the kiss was desperate, weeks of pent up desire between you. mark responds instantly, his tongue sliding against yours. you break apart panting. his pupils were blown wide, his lips were swollen, he looked perfect. that mole you you’ve stared at through the screen, you leaned pressing a kiss on it. “fuck.”, he breathes, his hand sliding under your hoodie tracing the skin underneath. “all this time…”, his fingers dig into the flesh of your back. “do you know how many times i came because of ‘midnghtkiss’?”, your hand moved to his jeans cupping his hard length straining against them.

mark groans, his hips bucking into your touch. “i have an idea.” “show me.”, he demands, his voice dripping with lust. “show me everything you’ve been imagining.”

you push him back on the couch, straddling his lap. his hands flew immediately towards your ass gripping it. the friction making you gasp. you leaned down to kiss him again, slower this time. his tongue explores your mouth, as his fingers traced patterns on your skin. all that exists in this moment was him.

“i want to see you, all of you.”, he murmured against your lips. mark’s hands move forward, tugging it upward. you allow him to remove it, his eyes roamed over your exposed skin. “better than i imagined.”, his hands come up to cup your breast. you rock against him, feeling his cock throb beneath you.

you grind down harder, your clit throbbing at his words. you reach between your bodies palming at his erection. mark’s hips jerked upwards, a choked moan escaping his lips. “i want everything with you”, you whispered against his lips. your fingers worked his jeans button, your hands shaking slightly from the anticipation. weeks of watching him, all coming to this moment.

his mouth claimed yours again, this time there was nothing gentle about it. teeth and tongue, desperation finally snapping between you both. you melt against him, almost like you were made for him. his hands were everywhere, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

mark rests his forehead against yours, “i can’t believe it was you all along.”, he whispers. “all those nights thinking i was preforming for some stranger it was you.”, he pulls back his eyes blown full of desire. your heart swells, the guilt being replaced with desire. “let me show you what you do to me.”

he stood up from the couch, pulling you with him words his bedroom. he didn’t give you time to appreciate the state of his room, with a gentle push mark sent you falling onto his bed. you propped yourself up, watching in awe as his eyes roamed over your body. “god i’ve wanted this for so long.”, he breathed out. he knelt between your legs, his touch was electric. he hooked his fingers in your waistband, slowly dragging them down your legs. your panties followed leaving you exposed and vulnerable under his gaze.

“look at you.”, he murmured, spreading your legs wider. "so fucking pretty.”, he lowered his head, the first touch against your folds made you gasp. mark knew exactly what he was doing, this the same dedication you watched him show your viewers, was now all for you. his tongue flattened against your clit, circling slowly before pushing himself even deeper to taste your arousal. your fingers tangled in his hair as he ate you out with precision. one hand slid up your body, palming your breast until your nipple pebbled against your lace bra.

“mark.”, you moaned out, hips bucking against his face. he responded by sliding two fingers inside your cunt, pressing against that spot that made your vision blur. his mouth never left your clit, sucking and licking a rhythm that had you squirming beneath him. your orgasm built quickly, mark seemed to noticed increasing the speed of his tongue and fingers. when you finally came, you let out a loud cry. mark worked you through your orgasm, fingers pumping inside you, his tongue still lapping at your sensitive clit.

before you fully recovered, mark began moving above you. he stripped off his shirt revealing, his lean body you’ve seen so many times. in one go he pushed down his jeans and boxers, his cock sprang free, hard and ready, the tip glistening with precum. he positioned himself at your entrance teasing you with just the head. mark pushed inside you with one smooth thrust, the stretch burned in the best way possible. he filled you up completely, his thickness pressing against your walls in all the right places.

he gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, setting a relentless pace. each thrust drove you deeper into the mattress. his hips snapping against yours, mark’s hands gripped your waist, as he pounded into you. the room filled with sounds of your breathless moans and skin slapping against skin. “you feel so fucking good.”, he growled his rhythm becoming more erratic. you reached up, pulling him into a desperate kiss. you could feel your own orgasm building up again, the pressure building up.

“come with me.”, he demanded. “i want to feel you come around my cock.”, that’s all it took. your second orgasm hit you harder than before. mark soon followed, collapsing on top of you. mark’s weight was comforting, his heartbeat thundering against your chest. “i can’t believe it was you.”, he murmured against your hair. you smiled tracing patterns on his chest.

note — ayeee part 2 is here, i put my blood sweat tears in this, i tried to put more angst but like who could reject mark...?

playlist — pour up by dean, temperature by psychic fever, love by dean (ft syd), baby dont like it by nct 127, house of cards by bts, aftertaste by anderson paak and dean, heaven by red velvet - irene&seulgi

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

mark had been leaning lazily against the kitchen counter, phone in hand while half-listening to whatever story chenle was loudly telling from the couch. but the second his eyes met yours, the entire room seemed to blur out around him. his posture straightened slightly. you looked tired, visible dark circles around your eyes. signs of no sleep, only because of him.

not the usual “i stayed up too late” kind of tired. the kind that sat behind your eyes and dragged your shoulders down no matter how hard you tried to hide it behind that small smile and somehow, that was the first thing he noticed.

not your clothes.

not your messy hair.

not the fact that you looked like you’d rushed over without thinking twice...

just you

your presence relieves him to ease

his expression softened almost instantly.

“hey,” mark says quietly, voice gentler compared to the chaos around him, you suddenly become hyperaware of yourself under his gaze. the oversized hoodie you threw on in five seconds. the lack of makeup. the exhaustion practically written across your face, and meanwhile he looked unfairly good without even trying, so annoying

your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag as you forced out an awkward laugh. “sorry, i look kinda horrible right now..." the second the words leave your mouth, mark’s brows pull together “what?” he says immediately, almost offended by the statement itself, haechan snorts from somewhere behind you. “oh brother, here he goes.”

mark ignores him completely, eyes still fixed on you,“you don’t look horrible." the sincerity in his voice makes your stomach twist unexpectedly. “you look tired,” he corrects softly. “there’s a difference, exams must've drained you out... right?"

for a moment, nobody says anything, then chenle groans dramatically from the couch. “god, this is actually painful to watch..." “shut up,” mark mutters without even looking away from you, earning loud gasps from the room, and somehow, despite the exhaustion weighing you all day, the tightness in your chest eases just a little.

you nodded at him, with a slight smile, looking down, getting used to the chaos, "how have you been..?" you said, exhaling.

not how have promotions been.

not how’s the solo stuff going.

just him.

mark’s smile falters slightly, only for a second but you notice it because he understood exactly what you meant. the air between you suddenly feels heavier, filled with all the things neither of you had properly talked about since that happened. the distance. the silence. the awkward drifting apart neither of you seemed to know how to fix.

mark exhales quietly, glancing down before nodding once. “i’ve been…” he pauses, lips pressing together briefly. “busy, i guess.”you give a small nod, though both of you know that wasn’t really an answer, haechan, surprisingly, notices the shift immediately.

his playful expression softens as he exchanges a quick look with chenle before loudly clapping his hands together. “anyway!,” he announces dramatically, standing up from the couch. “chenle, help me order food, let's go, let's go!"

“why do i have to help”

“because i said so.”

“that’s literally dictatorship"

their bickering grows distant as they drag the others toward the kitchen, leaving you and mark standing awkwardly near the hallway, the silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, it's just careful. careful of how things are going to turn out.

mark finally looks back at you fully, eyes softer now, “how about you?” he asks quietly. “you disappeared for a while.." your throat tightens a little at that, because disappearing sounded a lot nicer than admitting you just didn’t know how to be around him anymore after the sudden distance between you.

you hesitate for a moment before finally forcing the words out, “…could we talk somewhere quiet?” your voice is soft, nearly drowned out by the music blasting in every corner of the house but mark hears every syllable clearly and then you look at him.

really look at him.

there’s something in your expression that makes his stomach twist painfully tight, nervousness or exhaustion, maybe even hurt and suddenly all he can think about is how easily he’d give you anything if you just asked.

his jaw tightens slightly before he nods. “yeah,” he says immediately, quieter now. “of course.” he doesn’t even hesitate, mark gestures for you to follow him, slipping past the chaos of the living room while the others are too distracted arguing over food to notice much. though as you pass by, haechan definitely notices the tension between you two, his eyes narrow towards you two suspiciously, a smear smirk appears, maybe tonight. he'll forget about rina.

the stairs creak softly beneath your footsteps as you follow mark upstairs, farther away from the noise, the laughter, the bright lights downstairs. the air feels different up here, calmer. heavier, more dangerous somehow.

mark leads you toward the small balcony connected to the hallway, sliding the glass door open carefully before stepping aside for you first, cold night air immediately brushes against your skin, goosebumps rise.

for a second, neither of you speak.

mark leans lightly against the railing beside you, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants as he watches you carefully from the corner of his eye, he hesitantly speaks, "so, what’s up..? kinda scaring me there hah.." his awful attempt at lightening the mood, attempting a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and somehow, that only makes this harder.

“that day…”

the second those words leave your mouth, mark’s posture changes instantly, subtly but you noticed it. his shoulders straighten, fingers curling tighter against the railing beside him while his gaze drifts away from yours toward the city lights in the distance.

you swallow nervously, staring down at your shoes instead, “i wasn’t in the right mind,” you continue carefully, voice quieter now. “i mentioned her and…i messed things up between us, right?” the memory still made your stomach twist unpleasantly.

you risk a glance at him for barely a second before looking away again, “i’m sorry,” you murmur. “i crossed the line.”your fingers fidget anxiously with the sleeve covering your hands.

“…but a part of that wasn’t a mistake.”

silence.

cold air brushes past the balcony, but it suddenly feels hard to breathe, mark slowly turns his head toward you. his brows are furrowed deeply now. no, he wasn't angry, which would be more understandable and easier instead, he looks frustrated. conflicted.

his jaw clenches slightly as he watches you stand there apologizing to him like you’d committed some unforgivable crime, it irritates him instantly because why would you apologize to him like this? why were you looking at the floor like you were waiting for him to confirm your worst fears? mark exhales sharply through his nose before speaking.

“stop doing that.”

your head lifts slightly. “what?”

“acting like everything was your fault.”

his voice is low now, controlled, but there’s clear irritation underneath it, he pushes himself off the railing, taking a step closer. “yeah, mentioning her hurt,” he admits honestly, eyes fixed on you. “but you know what pissed me off more?”you blink up at him quietly.

“the fact, you're not wrong.

his expression tightens, and he leans back against the railing once more, fingers rubbing tiredly over his jaw as if admitting this out loud physically exhausted him.

“it’s me,” he says with a bitter laugh. “i’m the stuck-up idiot who couldn’t move on from my ex.” his words come slower now. more honest “and i tormented you because of it.” your brows pull together immediately. “mark—”, “no,” he cuts in softly, shaking his head. “let me say it.”

the city lights reflect faintly in his eyes as he looks away again, visibly frustrated with himself “i kept comparing everything to the past without realizing it.” he swallows harshly. “and you were the one who had to deal with that version of me.” the guilt in his voice makes your chest ache

“those things you said to me that night…” he pauses. “they pissed me off because they were true" you stared at him silently. “i hated hearing it,” he admits. “but after you left, i kept thinking about it over and over again.”

the wind blows softly through his hair, but neither of you move. mark finally looks at you again then, expression calmer now. vulnerable in a way you rarely ever saw from him, “you know what the worst part is?” he asks quietly.

your throat tightens. “what?”

his gaze lingers on you for a second too long before he answers. “i didn’t even realize how important you are to me until you stopped being around.

your eyes widened after those words left mark's mouth, and you let out an exhale, throat dry as a desert. "i don't understand what you're trying to say ..." you narrow your eyes at him. mark musters up courage, to look you in the eyes, seeing the reflection in your eyes of himself, made him realize what he was about to do was pretty shameless. he hesitantly speaks, "y/n, i like you."

your throat tightening, realizing the weight of his words. they relentlessly repeat in your head as mark waves his hand in front of your eyes, "y/n? are you uncomfortable? i'm truly sorry. i- uh, this wasn't supposed to happen—" you cut him off, "no! mark, what? what are you saying...?" you frowned at him, feeling this strange emotion between the line of happiness and unfairness.

mark's expression falls immediately at the confusion on your face, his hand drops back to his side awkwardly, trying to figure out if he ruined everything in the span of ten seconds.

"I—, uh let's forget this happened.." he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into his voice now. you let out an emotionless laugh, more like a huff. Your brows are furrowed tightly as you stare him, emotions visibly fighting behind your eyes.

"you're so unfair. you're so selfish mark. you know, every time you would start talking about rina, how'd I feel? i would feel like shit, like every word of yours would feel like stepping on shreds of broken glass.

your throat tightens painfully, and silence crashes between you. mark can’t even interrupt because deep down, he knows you’re right. you finally look back at him, eyes glossy under the balcony lights. “for the longest time,” you admit quietly, “i thought these feelings of mine were completely one-sided.”

the confession knocks the breath out of him. his lips part slightly, but nothing comes out because while you were sitting alone convincing yourself you never stood a chance, he was too busy being stuck in the past to even recognize what was right in front of him.

“y/n…” his voice comes out rougher than before. you immediately wipe at your face in frustration, embarrassed by the tears threatening to form. mark’s chest aches so sharply it almost feels unbearable. you laugh weakly at yourself, shaking your head.

“this makes me even more pathetic.”

“don’t,” he says immediately.

his voice is firm this time, he steps closer before stopping himself halfway, like he’s scared touching you right now would only make things worse. his eyes are locked onto yours now, filled with guilt and something heavier.

before you can step away again, mark’s hands gently grip your sides, careful but desperate at the same time. the sudden closeness makes your breath hitch. his eyes search yours frantically, and seeing you like this hurt because of him, crying because of him feels like something physically crushing down on his chest.

“y/n, i’m sorry…”

his voice breaks completely, and your expression falters instantly because mark rarely cries. but now tears are slipping down his face faster than he can stop them, his grip on you tightening slightly like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he loosens it even a little “i know,” he chokes out shakily. “i know i was selfish.”

he laughs bitterly through the tears, shaking his head at himself.

“i’m such a goddamn fucking loser.”

“mark—”

“but i don’t wanna lose you,” he says quickly, voice cracking again. “please.”

the desperation in his voice hurts more than it should and then, almost cruelly timed, faint music drifts up from downstairs — some sad love song. you stare at him for a second before a hollow laugh escapes your lips at the sheer irony of it all

mark lets out a watery laugh too, forehead dropping briefly against your shoulder as if the emotional weight of the night is finally catching up to him. “perfect timing,” you mutter weakly.

A shaky laugh leaves him despite everything and somehow that tiny sound seems to break you even more. he pulls back just enough to look at you again, eyes red, cheeks damp.

“i know i don’t deserve this,” he says quietly. “i know i probably confused you and hurt you more than anyone should.” his thumb brushes lightly against your sleeve near your waist, hesitant. “but if there’s even a small chance…” he swallows hard. “i wanna do this properly.”

you stare at him silently.

the cold night air, the distant music, the city lights below everything suddenly feels strangely blurry compared to the way he’s looking at you right now, like you’re the only thing he can focus on.

"so..?" you sniff, wiping the residue tears under your eyes as you let out a small laugh, "so when are you asking me to become your girlfriend?"

silence

mark blinks once, then twice.

"what?" he breathes out, staring at you in disbelief. "what." you laugh again, this time more real, your cheeks burn immediately under his gaze. "don't make me repeat myself twice..." suddenly embarrassed, "it's embarrassing.."

his mouth opens slightly before closing again, and the realization then hits him fully. his eyes widened so fast, it made you laugh. "oh my god." he mumbles to himself.

"uhm, okay wait– let me start thid again -" he rushes, hands trembling like he genuinely couldn't believe this is real. he wipes quickly at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, still looking emotional and overwhelmed at once.

"uh– so, would you let me be your boyfriend..?" he looks at you with hearts in his eyes, you wanted to devour him right there and then. he nodded, way eagerly then you expected, as tears escaped your eyes.another tear slips down your cheek as you laugh softly at his reaction, overwhelmed by everything all at once

before you can say anything else, he pulls you into him suddenly, arms wrapping tightly around your waist while yours instinctively circle around his shoulders. mark laughs shakily against your hair, holding you like he’s scared this moment will disappear if he loosens his grip. and honestly, you did the same. The tension between you both, building walls between you two, is cracking apart.

mark's forehead dropping against yours, he keeps looking at you with that same disbelieving expression, like he still can’t understand how this ended with you in his arms instead of walking away from him.

then, after a moment, his ears turn faintly red “…can i kiss you?” he asks softly and somehow, after everything tonight, that shy question is what finally makes your heart completely melt.

you don't say yes.

​you don't waste a single second with words because words have kept you apart for far too long. you instantly go in. how could you reject him when this exact moment is what you have been craving for months, losing sleep over, and dreaming about.​ you lean in, sliding your hands up his chest to grip the fabric of his hoodie, and close the gap between your lips.

​mark lets out a sharp, muffled breath against your mouth, a tiny sound of pure shock, but the hesitation lasts for less than a second. The moment your lips meet his, his grip on your waist tightens, pulling you flush against him as he catches his balance. the shy, desperate boy disappears, replaced entirely by the boy who has been wanting you just as desperately.

​the kiss is warm, deep, and heavy with months of unspoken longing. his lips are soft but demanding, parting slightly as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, his thumb smoothing over the fabric of your shirt, anchoring you to him.

​when you finally pull back just enough to breathe, your foreheads resting together, mark’s eyes are still closed, a breathless, dazed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. His ears are redder than ever, but he doesn't look disbelieving anymore. he feels relieved.

mark narrows his eyes on your shirt, and he opens his mouth before closing it again. you understood what he meant as you pulled your shirt off with no hesitation. mark's eyes widened at your bold action. he was memorised at your almost bare state. ​his breath hitched in his throat, the words he had been trying to form dying instantly. his mind completely short-circuiting as his gaze locks onto you.

​"y/n," he breathes out, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely stripped of his usual hesitation. ​the crimson flush on his ears spreads down his neck, but the shy restraint from moments ago vanishes entirely, replaced by a dark, intense focus.

​"you're going to drive me crazy," he murmurs, you sat there, bare-chested save for a lace bra that struggled to contain the swell of your breasts. mark's eyes widened. he looked as if he had been struck. his gaze travelled slowly, hungrily, over the curve of your waist and the pale slope of your chest. he eyefucked you with a raw, undisguised intensity that made your stomach flip.

he reached out, his hand trembling slightly. he didn't touch your skin at first; his fingers hovered just an inch away from your shoulder. then, he slid his hand around to your back. you leaned forward, granting him access. you felt the tips of his fingers fumbling with the hook of your bra. there was a sharp click, and the tension of the lace snapped.

the bra loosened, and you let it slide down your arms. You were completely bare from the waist up, your nipples peaking in the chill of the room. mark let out a low, guttural sound, a moan that started deep in his chest. he reached out and gave you a look of approval and cupped your breast, his palm warm and heavy. he squeezed, his thumb brushing over the hardened tip of your nipple.

"you are so beautiful," mark murmured.

"you're way more beautiful," you whispered.

mark lunged forward, his mouth crashing against hers. the kiss was not gentle. it was a collision of weeks of repressed desire. he tasted of mint and desperation. his tongue pushed into your mouth, seeking you with an aggressive hunger. You both exchanged saliva in a messy, wet slurry, breaths mingling in frantic gasps. mark's hand moved from your breast to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair to pull her closer, deepening the kiss until you felt lightheaded.

you let out a whimper into his mouth, your hands sliding down his chest to the waistband of his jeans. you could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against the soft cotton, a thick, insistent weight. you tugged at the waistband, the cotton tensing under the pressure.

"are you sure?" mark gasped, breaking the kiss for a second to breathe. you nodded almost instantly,

mark didn't argue. he pushed you back onto the sofa, his body following yours. He hovered over you, his eyes scanning your naked torso once more. he lowered his head, his lips trailing down your neck to the valley between your breasts. He licked a path of fire toward your left nipple, his tongue swirling around the areola before he took the peak into his mouth.

you arched your back, a loud moan escaping you. the sensation of his warm, wet tongue suctioning your nipple sent a jolt of electricity straight to your crotch. you felt a sudden, heavy gush of wetness between your thighs, your pussy aching for him.

"mark, please," you whimpered. mark moved lower, his hands sliding under your pants, pushing the fabric down to your ankles. he found the thin lace of your panties and ripped them to the side with a sudden, violent motion. he didn't remove them he simply pushed them aside to expose your dripping folds.

he leaned down, his face inches from your heat. he inhaled deeply, the scent of your arousal filling his nostrils. "oh my god," Mark whispered, mouth open in awe, he pressed his tongue against your clit, a sharp, direct stroke that made you scream. he began to lap at you, his tongue moving in fast, rhythmic circles. He used his fingers to spread your lips wide, exposing the pink, swollen walls of your vagina.

he pushed two fingers deep inside you, feeling the tight, hot squeeze of your muscles.

the sound of it filled the quiet room—a wet, squelching noise as his fingers slid in and out of your soaking wet walls. your hips bucked uncontrollably, your hands gripping the velvet of the sofa, your knuckles white.

"i can't... i can't take it," you gasped, your voice breaking, mark looked up at you, his lips glistening with your juices. he quickly stood up and shed his clothes, his sweatpants and boxers falling in a heap. when he stood before you, his cock was fully erect, a thick, veiny pillar of flesh that pulsed with every heartbeat. beads of clear pre-cum leaked from the tip, glistening in the dim light.

you reached out, your fingers wrapping around the shaft. he was hot, the skin stretched tight. you slid your hand up and down, feeling the ridge of his tip. mark groaned, his head snapping back.

you shifted, sliding your legs around his waist and pulling him toward you. you guided the head of his cock to your entrance, the wetness of your pussy acting as a lubricant.

you lowered yourself slowly, the thick head of his penis stretching you open. you felt a moment of resistance, a fullness that bordered on pain, before you slid down completely, taking all of him in one deep, sliding motion.

a, wet squelch echoed as your bodies connected. you let out a long, shuddering breath, your eyes fluttering shut. he filled you completely, hitting your cervix with a dull thud that made your toes curl. "baby, fuck..." Mark groaned, his voice sounding strangled. "god, you feel incredible."

he gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your skin, and began to thrust upward. the motion was slow at first, a steady grind that focused on the friction of your pelvic bones rubbing together. then, the pace quickened.

the sound of your bodies became a rhythmic percussion, lewd sounds of skin slapping on each other, the slap of his balls against the lower curve of your pelvic, the wet shlicking of his cock sliding through your cream. with every thrust, air was pushed out of your pussy, creating small, popping sounds that added to the raw intensity of the act.

"harder!," you urged, your voice a ragged whisper.

mark obeyed. he flipped you over, pinning you face-down into the pillows. he entered you from behind, his cock sliding back into you with a loud, wet plunge. the angle allowed him to go deeper, his length burying itself into you until there was no space left between you.

he hammered into you, his movements becoming frantic and erratic. the vigor of his thrusts caused his cock to slip out almost entirely, the head glancing off your outer lips before slamming back inside with a heavy thud.

the friction was intense, the heat building in both of you until it felt like you were melting together.

your breasts bounced and jiggled with every impact, your nipples rubbing against the fabric of the sofa. you could hear the sounds of your passion heavy, synchronized panting, the wet slapping of skin on skin, the way mark's breath hitched every time he hit your sweet spot.

"i'm going to... i'm almost..." mark gasped, his voice trembling.

his hand reached down, his hand finding your clit, squeezing and circling it in a deliciously slow manner. the action pushed you over the edge. you let out a whimper, body stiffening as he continued the double pleasure, your head felt light, toes curling. muffled moans escaped your mouth, as he violated your hole relentlessly.

the knot in your stomach loosening second by second, feeling insane ecstasy, your hips stiffened as you come undone, releasing your juices all over his thighs and the bed sheet, making a mess, mark rode out your orgasm, continuing the frantic thrusts which were getting sloppier by the second, chasing his own orgasm.

he delivered one final, deep thrust. he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you as he erupted. you felt the hot jets of his semen hitting your cervix, wave after wave of thick, warm fluid filling you up. your internal muscles clamped down on him, milking him for every last drop.

you both stayed like that for a long time, locked together, your chests heaving in unison. the only sound in the room was the rhythm of the faint music and the wet, sliding sound as mark slowly pulled out of you.

a mixture of pre-cum, saliva, and semen leaked from your opening, trailing down your thigh in a sticky, white streak. he flopped down next to you, anchoring his arm around your waist.

"i'm sorry, and i love you, y/n." mark whispered.

you laughed, a small, breathless sound. you leaned against his him, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

"i love you way more," you replied.

the heavy silence of the room returns, broken only by the sound of your shared, uneven breathing. both of you are completely tired, with chests heaving and breathing shuddered, completely consumed by the sudden rush of adrenaline and the warmth of each other's embrace.

and unknowingly, you both didn't notice, eyes peeking from the unclosed creaking door, it was haechan and chenle, peeking in, grinning ear to ear. they had their heads stacked one over the other in the tiny crack of the doorframe, witnessing the absolute chaos they had probably been rooting for weeks.

"finally, they did it!" haechan whispered, turning his head towards chenle with a triumphant grin. he adjusted his stance, leaning back slightly while keeping his voice to a low, muffled murmur. "do you think they noticed the songs I put from my go-to sex playlist?"

You’ve been friends with Mark for a long time and, although you don’t fully support his “just hook ups” lifestyle, he is a good guy who never tries to hurt anyone by playing around with their feelings, like some other people you know. Ugh, there you go thinking about your idiot ex once again. One more shot please.

“Someone is having fun by herself.”

Turning to the voice, your head spins and you realize maybe you had too many shots.

“Hey, hey, I got you.” Chuckling, Mark holds your arm, holding you in place as you lose balance. “I’m assuming this has something to do with a certain bastard?”

With a sigh you turn back to the last full shot on the counter. Why did you think no one would notice?

“How about I have this one?” Mark easily snatches the glass off your hand, gulping it down.

“Are you that good?” You lean back into the counter, watching the girl he got into the bathroom with him pass by with a satisfied smile on her face.

“At what?”

“Giving head.” You had heard rumours before and were always curious about it.

“Well,” he scratches the back of his head, half shy half proud, “I guess I never had any complaints.”

“Why did I waste a year with that dumbass when I could’ve gone around and get some good head?” Your whines were drunk sad.

“Ok, maybe it’s time to go.” Pulling your arm around his neck, Mark grabs your waist and takes you outside where he struggles to call an Uber as he tries not to let you fall.

Once inside the vehicle, he lets out a breath of relief as you rest your head on his shoulder. Your eyelids get heavier and you let them close, the late night city lights reflecting on your faded out make up.

“Do you enjoy doing it?” You mumble through the silence.

“Doing what?” Mark slightly turns his head to you.

“Giving head.”

“Oh, hm… Yeah.” He tones his voice down, aware of the driver. “I like making someone feel good.”

“Do they always feel good when you do it?” You continue the questions without even thinking or opening your eyes.

“Well,” he chuckles, “I never got any complaints.”

“I wish someone would make me feel good.”

“How long has it been?” Mentally he thinks about how long it’s been since you and your ex broke up. “Few months?”

“Sex, yes. Head, since my previous life.”

“Wait, what?” Fully turning to you, his eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Do you mean that asshole never gave you-”

“We’re here.” The driver interrupts Mark’s shock as the car stops in front of your apartment building.

The both of you get out of the car and he helps you up your apartment. After struggling with the keys, he follows you to the bedroom, picking up the things you drop in the way including your clothes that you clumsily remove until you’re in your underwear. After placing them over your desk, he opens the bed covers for you to lay down and then tucks you in.

“Where are you going?” You mumble as he heads back to the door.

“Home.”

“You’re not gonna help me out?” Whining you pull yourself up to your elbows. “I thought we were friends.”

“I already got you home safe.” He chuckles. “What else to you need help with?”

“To make me feel good.” You push the covers off of you and caress your body. “Show me how good you are.”

Mark is shocked and conflicted. He shouldn’t do it, you’ve been friends for so long, never crossing the line, maybe this isn’t a good idea. But, on the other hand, he feels sorry you never got to experience that type of pleasure and he does want to help you out. But he can’t, no, friendship is more important-

“Please…” His thoughts are interrupted by your desperate plea and your underwear being thrown at his chest.

“Fuck it.”

Walking back to the bed, he sits down next to your legs that you slowly open to reveal your needy pussy. Gulping at the sight, Mark adjusts himself, face to face with your core that is begging for him. Looking up he sees the way you’re softly bitting your lip in anticipation and he knows not to keep you waiting any longer.

Leaning forward, he takes a long lick between your folds and hears you gasp, which makes him smile. Focusing on your clit, he plays all the techniques in the book, licking and sucking in all the ways that have gotten him a symphony of moans from other girls, and it seems to be doing the same thing to you.

Your hands are tugging on the sheets, back arching off the bed, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth agape letting out all the moans you don’t have the strength to keep inside. You never, ever, felt something like this before. You were never one to cum easily on the hands of someone else, but when two fingers enter your dripping hole you feel like you won’t be able to hold it much longer.

The combination of mouth and fingers, that work in sync, achieve their purpose in no time, making your body tremble as your orgasm reaches every inch of it. Mark, keeps going, softly, as you ride off your high, until he sees your limbs give in.

“So, how was that-” Stepping back he realizes your eyes are closed and you’re even snoring a little bit.

Smiling he gets up and tucks you back in, not bothering to get any clothes back on you. Quietly, he calls another Uber and leaves, not believing he actually did it, but almost sure you might not even remember it the next day.

The sunlight on your face makes you whine and turn the other way as you wake up. The previous night are just flashes on your mind, but as you look around you are at least glad you made it back home. But you don’t remember how. So you decide to take a peak under the covers and gasp when you realize you don’t have your panties on.

“What the hell happened-” You try to get up but suddenly the hangover strikes you straight in the head, making you groan.

As if you were not confused already, you can hear your phone vibrate but you have no idea where it is. Following the sound, you find a pile of yesterdays clothes, your purse and, yes, your phone, that you pick up without even checking the caller.

“You’re alive!” You hear your best friend’s voice, that’s usually a good sound but right now it’s just making your headache worst.

“Barely…” You mumble, getting back inside the covers as it feels weird to stand there only wearing a bra.

“What happened last night?” Little does she know you’re asking yourself the same thing. “You know what, I’m right around the corner, be there in five.”

She doesn’t even let you say another word before she hangs up. With a deep breath, you finally locate your panties on the floor and, since you’re not gonna have time to shower before she arrives, you put them on and then wrap yourself in a robe.

Scrolling on your phone, you try to find any evidence of what might’ve happened, but you can only see unanswered texts and missed calls from your best friend. Ok, concentrate. The last thing you remember is being at the bar, chugging shot after shot because you saw your ex in the club. And then-

The doorbell rings and interrupts your thought process. Shaking your head you rush to open the door, being greeted by a large coffee that you desperately need. You and your best friend sit in the living room where the interrogation starts.

“What happened last night? We were dancing and having fun, then you suddenly disappear, so I thought you went to the bathroom or something, but you never came back. Then I looked around the club and saw the reason you stepped away,” she rolls her eyes, “but I still couldn’t find you so I thought you might’ve gone home. I was wondering why you weren’t answering my texts and then, like an hour later, I saw Mark carrying your drunk ass outside, but when I got out…”

Her voice fades into the background when you hear his name. Mark. You’re starting to remember a few things. Yes, he met you at the bar, helped you home and then he left.

Oh, no.

He didn’t leave right away. You asked him to give you head and he… He did it. Your eyes widen as you remember it all. How could you ask him such a thing? And why would he do it? That’s so embarrassing! How are you ever going to face him again-

“So what happened?” You’re finally brought back as she asks that question again.

“I…” You can’t possibly tell her what happened, you need to talk to Mark first and make sure you’re cool. “I don’t remember.”

“How did you get so wasted in such a short time?” She shakes her head. “That bastard does not deserve that you to suffer over him, you need to let it go, babe.”

“I’m fine.” You’re not, but not about your ex anymore.

“Really?” She raises her brow.

“Yeah.”

Throughout the whole day, you keep thinking about what happened. Why did he do it? Why did you ask him to? What did it mean? Is it going to change anything? Mark is a dear friend you don’t want to lose, but now you definitely understand why girls always leave his room with a smile on their faces, you never felt like that before and, honestly, you want to feel like that again. But you don’t know where he’s at with all of this, so you don’t want to text him or call him up to talk about it, so you make sure you run into him the next day.

“Mark!” You act surprised even though you knew exactly he’d be at the park at this time.

“Oh, hey!” He abruptly stops his running, smiling like nothing happened.

“I know you’re a bit busy but, do you mind if we talk for a bit?”

“Hm, sure.” He then turns back to his friends. “You guys go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

As his friends resume their running, you notice the sweat running down the side of Mark’s neck, slithering into his shirt, and you start to feel hot. You never looked at him as more than a friend but he sure is making you feel some type of way.

“What’s up?” His voice reminds you that you’re here in a mission.

“Nothing much, I just… Hm…” You wanted to talk to him so much that you kinda forgot to plan how you’re going to bring it up. “I wanted to thank you for the other night.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” His smile drops a bit, but not totally. “I mean, I wasn’t gonna leave you in the club like that.”

“Right.” You nod. “And the other thing too.”

“What, uh… What other thing?” His awkward laugh suggests he might be conflicted about it too.

“You don’t have to pretend, I asked for it and you did it.”

“Oh, you remember that?” He scratches the back of his head.

“I’m sorry.” You sigh. “I don’t know where that came from, it was just a lot of emotions that night.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it knowing you were drunk, I’m not the type of guy to just take advantage of someone like that.”

“Mark,” you step forward, “you didn’t take advantage of me, I asked for it.”

“You weren’t thinking straight.” He shakes his head and looks away. “I should’ve known you’d regret it.”

“What if I don’t regret it?” His head snaps your way.

“You don’t?”

“Maybe.” You feel your face get really hot admitting it. “I have to admit, you do have game.”

You both burst out laughing, a wave of weight being washed of your shoulders.

“But seriously, I wanted to ask you if we’re ok?” You ask as the laughter slows down. “I really don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

“Don’t worry, we’re ok.” He lifts up his pinkie and you grab it with yours.

“Cool.” You nod as you let go.

“I gotta get back to the guys, see you around.” You wave at each other as he turns around. “Oh, and if you ever need to feel good again just let me know!”

“What!?”

Days go by and you don’t think back to that conversation, you’re just glad things are cool and you haven’t lost a good friend over a drunk adventure. In all honesty you feel the best you’ve ever felt in months, happy and free, ready to conquer the world. So much that you even agree to go to a party with your best friend a week later, leaving her thrilled and finally believing you’re really moving on from your previous relationship.

Laughter, dancing and drinking brighten the room as you two got ready. Even if it’s just a house party you still enjoy the ritual because it’s been so long since you had the chance to. Not to mention you got there super late since you two were having so much fun.

As you get there, you’re greeted by the hosts, aka the guys that live there: Johnny, Jaehyun and, oh yes, Mark. When you look at him the words suddenly come back to your mind.

Oh, and if you ever need to feel good again just let me know!

Brushing it off, you grab your best friend into the living room where people are dancing to the pop songs coming from the stereo. Letting go off all thoughts, you move your body to the rhythm and loosen up. But eventually all the pre-drinking gets to your bladder and you leave the improvised dance floor to find a bathroom.

Since you’ve been here before, you know exactly which bathroom would have the smaller line and you pat yourself in the back for being right as no one seems to be around.

Once you’re done you reach the handle to get back out but suddenly the door opens making you shriek.

“Shit, sorry!” Mark’s widened eyes meet yours as he tries to close the door again.

“It’s ok, I was already getting out.” You smile as you stop him.

“Still, I should’ve knocked, but I didn’t think anyone would come to this one.”

“Guess I thought the same thing.” You both burst into laughter as you get out of the way for him to get in.

Before you get back to the party, you take a few deep breaths calming your racing heart. And no, it’s not because you got a bit of a jump scare just now, but because every time you see him those words resonate in your mind.

Oh, and if you ever need to feel good again just let me know!

You didn’t realise you’ve been standing in the hall for a while until the bathroom door opens up again.

“You’re still here?” Well, obviously.

“Hm, yeah. I…” You try to come up with a better excuse than to admit you were thinking about him and something he probably doesn’t even remember saying. “I was just taking a breather before going back.”

“Ok…” He finds your answer quite odd but just brushes it off and walks way.

“Wait, Mark!” He turns back around. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” He looks puzzled with your question.

“What you said at the park the other day.” As he seems to try to recall it, you instantly regret asking. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Oh, do you mean about making you feel good again?” He suddenly says as you walk by him, making you stop on your tracks. “Why? Do you need it?”

“I…” You’re quite shocked he’s asking so directly and you think of leaving, but then again you’re already talking about it. “Maybe.”

“You have to give me a straight answer this time.” His face changes as he turns you to him, his deep gaze making your legs feel weak.

“Yes.” You speak before you even think.

“Come with me.”

You follow him to the door next to the bathroom that for a second you forgot that it was actually his room. It all feels surreal until he closes the door and presses you against the wall.

“Are you sure you want this?” His dark eyes stare into your soul.

“Yes…” A mere whisper falls out your lips.

Never breaking eye contact, Mark slowly kneels down at your feet. His hands brush softly up the sides of your bare thighs, making their way inside your skirt and then drag your underwear to the floor. Gently, he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and leans forward.

Your lips part with a shaky gasp as you feel the warmth of his tongue between your folds. Taking his time, he tastes every inch of your wet pussy, making your heart beat faster as your whole body gets warmer. From licking circles on your clit, to thrusting his tongue inside you, he uses all the tricks in the book, making you remember why you challenged him to do this the first time.

It doesn’t take too long for you to feel the orgasm building up inside you and he knows it, doing just the right thing to pull it out of you. But as much as you want to feel it, less drunk this time, something within you is craving for more.

“Wait…” You gently push his face away from your crotch.

“Do you want me to stop?” Mark asks, lips glowing with your juices.

“No, no!” You quickly say. “I just…”

“Yes?” Getting up, he comes face to face with you again.

“Want more.” You let out, making his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Do you have a condom?”

You’ve never seen him run to look for something this fast. As he goes through his bedside drawers, your crawl onto his bed, his scent on the sheets taking over you. At the sound of a cheer, you look to the side and see him standing next to the bed, a square package in one hand, looking at you as if asking if you’re really sure.

Because actions speak louder than words, you move closer to him and unbutton his jeans. It’s not that you couldn’t see the outline of dick already, but you weren’t expecting it to just bounce right in front of your face once your freed it, hard as a rock.

As you’re too busy gagging over the sight, Mark rips the package open and rolls the rubber down his length. Once you get a hold of yourself, you lay back down and he moves to hover you. Your legs spread to make room for him and you pull your skirt all the way up to give him full access to your throbbing core.

Rubbing the tip of his cock between your folds, he bites his lip as if holding a moan. Then he aligns it with your entrance and slowly starts pushing himself in. You don’t know if it’s relief because it’s been a long time since you’ve had someone inside you or if he just feels really good, but you let out the most satisfied moan of your life, making him chuckle.

Once fully in, he starts thrusting slowly, giving you time to adjust, but you can’t handle it. Just a few moments ago you were almost cumming all over his face so this just feels like a tease.

“Mark please… Don’t be gentle…”

You know you probably look pathetic begging like this but he seems to get the message. His hips start moving faster against you, re-building that orgasm that was left on hold. Grasping the sheets, you arch your back away from the mattress, skin burning in desire.

When you feel like you can’t hold it anymore, you completely give into the pleasure, a loud moan escaping your lips as your body trembles. Mark tries to slow down, riding off your high, but the way your walls tighten around his girth are making it impossible to hold it in, so not long after, the condom gets filled with his hot cum as he lets out a low groan. With his head hanging low, his hands on the bed prevent him from collapsing over you as you both pant, trying to calm down.

But the lust slowly starts to fade and the two of you come to your senses and realize what you just did. Carefully, he gets off of you and lays by your side, both staring at the celling in silence. Suddenly you become aware of the music coming from the living room and remember there’s a whole ass party going on whilst you two were here getting it on.

“Maybe we should go back out there.” You finally say.

“Yeah, I guess.” He agrees, but no one actually moves.

“Was this too weird?”

“I don’t know.”

“At least it was good.”

“Definitely.”

“Would it be even more weird if I kinda wanted this to happen again?”

“Do you mean now?” He suddenly turns to you. “I mean, you’ll have to give me a few minutes to-”

“Not now.” You giggle. “I mean, some other time.”

“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad.” He shrugs.

“What if we made this a thing?” You finally turn to him too.

“What do you mean?” His eyebrow raises.

“Well, we could casually meet up once in a while and… You know.” You tilt your head and he smiles understanding the meaning. “No one would have to know, it could be our thing.”

“So like, friends with benefits? Fuck buddies?”

“Something like that.” You nod. “I mean, I’m not thinking about dating any time soon but a girl has needs, you know? At least I know we work in the bedroom. And, from what I see, you’re not too keen on getting a girlfriend either, so I would just be one more girl you have some fun with.”

“So, we wouldn’t be exclusive then? We could be with other people if we wanted to?”

“Of course! All pleasure, no troubles.” You reassure him. “What do you say?”

“That actually sounds pretty good.” He chuckles. “Deal!”

With a smile, you two fix your clothes and get back to the party as if nothing ever happened. No one even asks where either of you were this whole time because there’s been a lot of alcohol going around during that time, and you quickly join the fun.

A week passes and you and Mark haven’t really talked much, but that’s just how it has always been, so nothing strange about it. Tonight you have a birthday dinner but as you were about to get in the shower you suddenly remember your car is almost out of gas and it would be a pain in the ass to spend money on that at this time of the month. But then you remember Mark had sent you a funny meme earlier that you didn’t reply to and, since he’s going too, you decide to take your shot.

You: haha so funny

You: hey, are you taking your car later?

Mark: yeah, why?

Mark: need a ride?

You: if it’s not too much trouble… *praying hands emoji*

Mark: no problem *thumbs up emoji*

You: you are an angel *blowing kiss emoji*

With a cheer, you put on some loud music and step into the shower.

When you’re out, you notice you have a missed call and some unread messages.

Mark: I’m here

*missed call*

Mark: just hanging in the car

Mark: come down when you’re ready

You’re dumbfounded, you still have an hour before the time agreed for the dinner and, to be honest, no one even shows up at that time.

You: are you crazy? It’s so early!

You: I just stepped out of the shower *face palm emoji*

Mark: oh, right

Mark: it’s ok

Mark: I’ll wait here *thumbs up emoji*

You: don’t be an idiot *rolling eyes emoji*

You: at least come up and watch tv or something

Mark: *thumbs up emoji*

A few minutes later you open the door and let him in but he just stands there gulping as he looks up and down your body, still wet and only covered by a white towel.

“Don’t be a perv,” you roll your eyes, “come in.”

Shaking his head, he finally enters your apartment, closing the door behind him.

“Make yourself at home. I’m going to get ready.”

“Wait.” Mark softly grabs your pulse, making you turn back around. ”You said it was still early right?”

“Well, yeah, but I still have to get dressed, do my make up, my hair-”

“How long do you need?” He interrupts.

“I don’t know…” You shrug. ”Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about our conversation the other night,” he steps closer, not able to take his eyes away from a single water drop that’s running down your neck into your chest, “and maybe we could use this time to… You know.”

A smirk grows on your lips knowing exactly what he means. Looking into his eyes, you take the corner of the towel and untuck it, making it drop to the ground and leaving you fully naked. You nod to the bedroom and he follows you to it, starting to remove his clothes on the way.

Crawling into the bed, you lay back and invite him over which he does immediately, already undressed to his underwear. His mouth goes straight to your neck, kissing just the right place to make your insides tingle and even gently leaving some love bites.

“Don’t mark me,” you say between giggles, “we have a party to go to.”

“Sorry.” Mark chuckles moving his mouth down your body.

Your legs spread apart to make room for him as his lips approach your core. You can’t help moaning once his tongue slides between your folds to then focus on your clit. It really must be magic the way he eats you out so perfectly, like he’s been doing it for years, because it’s not possible how quickly the orgasm builds inside you. You almost lose it when he adds two fingers, as far as they can reach, moving around to stretch you out, leaving you craving for what’s coming next.

You could lay there for hours, getting eaten out until your pussy is sore, but you suddenly remember you don’t have much time to spare, So, against your will, you gently tug on his hair, moving his face away from between your legs.

“Fuck me, Mark.” You try not to sound desperate but your voice seems to betray you.

Quickly he reaches his jeans to grab a condom and puts it on as he gets back on top of you, his dick already hard and ready. He enters you slowly, cursing under his breath as he feels your walls squeezing his length, and when he’s fully inside he lets out a relieved sigh.

It doesn’t take him long to pick up his pace, his hips pounding against your core as your legs wrap around his torso, making sure he reaches as deep as he can at each thrust. Suddenly you become very aware of how close his face is from yours, sweat starting to appear on his forehead, lips still shinning from your juices. Why does his mouth looks so delicious? Why do you want to kiss him so bad right now? No, that would make it weird, right? You have a good arrangement, you don’t want to fuck it up.

Either he notices something on your expressing or he just felt like trying a new angle, flipping you around so that you’re on all fours and he enters you from behind. The new position makes him reach a new target within you and you have to bury your face in your pillow to prevent all your neighbours hearing how good you feel at this very moment.

Grasping your hips, Mark seems to move in and out of you faster than before, clearly chasing his high, but that only does you good as you finally let the orgasm take over you. Holding you steady in place, it doesn’t take him much longer to cum too and leaving you both glad you made this deal.

Gently he takes his dick out of you and collapses on the bed by your side. As you catch your breath you look at each other and chuckle. But then you look past him at the clock on your bedside table and realize you don’t have much time anymore.

Luckily you already had an outfit picked up so you quickly get dressed and do some light makeup, leaving your hair to air dry on the way there. By the time you’re done, you and Mark go down to his car and drive to the place.

“Should we come up with a cover story?” He asks as he tries to find a place to park.

“What for?” You ask as you look around for an empty spot.

“Well, us- I mean, arriving together.” He stumbles on his words as he drives into a parking spot.

“No need to, we’ll just tell the truth.”

“What?” He suddenly hits the brakes, turning your way. “I thought you wanted to keep this between us.”

“I do, but we don’t have to tell them the whole truth.” You shrug. “I ran out of gas and asked you for a ride.”

“Oh, right.” He nods.

“Don’t overthink it, just act natural.” You wink before getting out of the car.

The conversation about you two arriving together lasts literally 20 seconds as the birthday girl quickly becomes the center of attention once more. Throughout the night you barely have any contact with Mark but there are a few looks here and there that only you understand.

It almost became a weekly thing. Usually at the weekend there would be a party and you’d end up fucking somewhere or going back to your apartment, or some excuse would arrive for you to meet and get it on.

As friends you become closer than before, talking more either by text or when you met, and when it came to sex, you seemed to get more and more compatible, trying new positions and new ways of making the most out of those pleasurable moments.

A few months later there you were at the club, with your friends, including Mark, on the dance floor having fun. When Mark goes to the bar to get a new drink and you decide to wait a few minutes to go meet him and see if he’s up to anything tonight. But as you make your way through the crowd you notice a girl next to him, giggling and seductively touching his arm. This is not an unusual situation though and he’s free to be with whoever he wants, but for some reason today you start to feel your blood boil. Rolling your eyes you go back to the dance floor and try to calm yourself down, eyes closed and just feeling the beat.

Around 10 minutes later, Mark rejoins the group like nothing happened and that makes you even more mad. You don’t even know why you’re feeling this way so you do your best to control yourself before somebody notices or you do anything you might regret.

The night goes on, slowly people start leaving and you start thinking you might follow, but first you decide to hit the bathroom as you probably won’t make it home after all those drinks. Once you’re done you get back to the club to leave but someone calls you outside the bathroom.

“Mark?” You squint trying to make sure it’s him.

“Are you staying much longer?” Chuckling he gets closer so you can hear him over the music that’s still blasting through the speakers.

“No, I think I’m gonna go now.” You reply still not sure if he’ll be able to hear you.

“Perfect.” He smirks. “Cause I really wanted to go back to yours…”

“Are you sure? I thought you were all set up for the night.” You suddenly spurt out remembering that girl on the bar with him.

“What do you mean?” He asks confused.

“Never mind.” You turn to go grab your stuff and leave, Mark following behind.

On the way to your apartment, he sits next to you on the Uber jabbering about something that someone said earlier but honestly you’re not listening to a word coming out of his mouth. All you can think about is why you’re getting so annoyed with the possibility of him being with someone else when you were the one who agreed that was ok to do.

Inside the elevator he finally goes quiet and seems to stare at you, wondering why you seem so weird. You just hope he doesn’t ask about it.

“What was that about me being ‘set up for the night’?” You sigh knowing he won’t leave it alone until you give him an answer.

“Nothing, I just…” You drop your bag and take off your shoes. “I thought you had your bathroom trip earlier and didn’t want to come over anymore.”

“What? Why?” He raises his eyebrow.

“I saw you with someone at the bar-” You stop yourself not wanting to talk about it anymore. “Just, never mind.”

“Oh, that was just-” Suddenly he widens his eyes. “Wait! Are you jealous?”

“What, me!?” You scoff. “Of course not!”

“Right…” He drags the word, not really believing you. “Anyway, would it be a problem if I had fucked her?”

“No.” You clear your throat. “I just don’t want anyone’s sloppy seconds.”

“I see.” He gets closer to you, making you back up until your back is against the wall. “But don’t worry, you’re always my first choice.”

“I don’t know if I should believe you.” You try to sound steady even though your knees are getting weaker.

“I’ll show you.”

His face gets closer and you instinctively close your eyes, breath caught on your throat as you feel his smooth lips against yours. Surrendering into the kiss, you let him embrace your body with hunger and softness, better than you ever imagined it would be.

With a slight touch on the back of your legs, you quickly wrap them around his torso, arms around his neck, as you let him carry you over to the couch. Clothes come off but your lips barely part as your naked bodies come together as one.

It has always been good, doing it with Mark, but tonight it feels different. Tonight almost makes you feel like you could do this every night. Just you and him. All the time.

But that’s not what you agreed to. You’re just two friends having fun. You can’t let the lines get blurred. You don’t even love him. At least not like that.

From that night on though, your secret rendezvous became more intimate, with kisses and gentle touches. It went from feeling good physically to feeling wanted, cared for, appreciated.

Almost a year after that first night, you and your friends decide to rent a house by the beach for the weekend, to welcome the beginning of warmer nights. Needless to say, Mark too will be there, so you make all efforts to make it happen.

Friday afternoon, you’re not able to get a ride with him, but you can’t wait to look around the rooms and see what arrangements you can do to be with Mark. That is until you get there and realize there are just two big rooms: one for the girls, one for the boys. Oh well, you’ll find another way.

And you do, because late that night, after everybody went to bed from a chill night in, there you are, right in the living room, his body on top of yours, your hands tugging on his hair, mouths moving in sync while the TV plays a random show on the background.

“Mark…” You whisper, stopping his hand from moving further inside your shirt. “Not here, someone might come in…”

“And?” He simply asks, moving his lips down to your neck.

“We wouldn’t want them to catch us like this would we?” Eyes closed, a smile forms on your lips as the strap of your top is slowly dragged down your shoulder.

“Maybe they should.” He mumbles agains your skin before gently taking a bite.

“Mark.” This time your voice is stern and you slightly push him off of you.

“What?” He sighs. “I’m just saying that if they knew about us, we wouldn’t have to sneak around all the time.”

It’s not the first time he brings it up. Just telling your friends you’re hooking up and then you could do it freely. But that would just make things too real and you’re already doubting everything as it is.

Obviously you don’t tell him all of that. Besides, all your friends would tease you, you’d feel pressured to date and eventually you’d break up and stop being friends. Yes, you might be overreacting but, honestly, sneaking around is part of the fun.

“I told to you stop saying that.” Now you completely push him to side and get up, adjusting your clothes.

“Oh c’mon, I was just saying…” He groans, laying back on the couch.

“And I’m just going.” You start to leave but he grabs your wrist.

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop.” He pouts, but you just push his hand.

“Goodnight, Mark.”

He watches your figure disappear into the hallway letting out a frustrated sigh, followed by an even more frustrated one when he notices the tent on his pants, throbbing, left untouched.

The next morning you wake up and most of the girls are already out of the room, enjoy the pool by the sun outside, so you hurry up and join them. The day is mostly chill, preparing for the big party at the club that evening, which is one of the reasons you decided to pick this weekend for this friends getaway.

Just before lunch, you head up inside to charge your phone, but, before you reach the girls bedroom, you get pulled into a bathroom from the empty corridor.

“Shit, Mark, you scared me!” You giggle, hitting his arm.

“Sorry.” Scratching the back of his head, he lets out a low chuckle that send butterflies down your core. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You can’t help bite your lip, suddenly feeling the closeness between your bodies whilst his fingertips gently rub down your arm.

“I just wanted to apologize for yesterday again.” With his other hand, Mark tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“It’s ok…” Your voice dies down as he backs you up against the sink.

“Nah,” his lips brush against your ear, “let me make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to…” You say but you hope he doesn’t stop kissing down your neck to your cleavage.

“Oh, but I want to.” With a wink he kneels down in front of you, playing with the side strings of your bikini bottoms.

With a quick tug, the small piece of fabric unravels and falls into the floor, leaving you exposed right in front of Mark’s face. Licking his lips, he taps your thighs, gesturing for you to sit at the edge of the countertop. Once settled, he spreads your legs apart to start his feast.

Your head leans back as you let out a long pleased sigh. The corners of your lips curl up, teeth leaving marks on the red skin while you try not to make a sound. But it gets really hard not to do so when you look down and see the look on his face: eyes closed, brows lightly arched, just having the time of his life.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel that familiar tingle inside you, and you’re about to stop him however you have no choice but to let yourself go as his grip on your thighs get tighter, his tongue moving impossibly fast.

Covering your mouth with one hand, you steady yourself with the other, feeling waves of pleasure run down your body, chest heaving up and down. Mark tastes every single drop coming out of you, making sure you’re all clean before pulling away.

Still recovering from your high, you barely even notice him tying your bikini bottoms back on before standing up in front of you.

“Am I forgiven?” His cocky grin glistens in front of you.

“Most definitely.” You almost moan out, making you both chuckle.

“Good.” Planting a kiss in the corner of your lips, he turns around to the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” You climb off the sink.

“Back outside before someone starts snooping around.” Shrugging his shoulders, he grabs the door handle.

“Already?” You move closer. “What about this?” His breath gets caught in his throat as you cup the bulge pushing onto his shorts. But suddenly, you both hear his name being called outside.

“Guess it will have to wait until next time.” With a wink he now leaves a kiss straight into your lips before heading out the door, leaving you giggling like a teenager inside, before you go back to what you came inside to do.

During the afternoon, everybody gathers and decides to have dinner and drinks at home before hitting the club, so very smoothly you and Mark manage to be in charge of going to the grocery store to buy food and booze.

Heading to the car, you’re both happy you get to spend some time together away from everybody’s eyes. But as you’re about to grab the handle on the passenger door you hear someone calling out and both of you look back.

“I’ll come with you!” Gabriela, a girl you don’t know that well but came along on the trip, is running your way. “Thought you needed an extra hand.”

“Oh, hum… Sure…” Mark hesitantly says and shrugs his shoulders as you give him a glare.

“You don’t mind me taking the front seat, do you?” Smiling, she automatically gets in front of you and gets in the car.

“I guess I don’t.” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes and getting on the back, making Mark chuckle as he takes the wheel.

The 15 minute drive seems like an hour to you. You’re already annoyed this girl ruined your alone time with Mark and the way she’s singing happily and making small talk with him is just making you even more upset. At least he doesn’t seem that interested in her conversation, you think.

Trying to ignore the wrath growing inside you, the three of you walk along the corridors grabbing all the things on the list you all made before you left. But it gets really hard when this girl keeps touching Mark’s arm and laughing hysterically at everything he says as you’re left pushing the cart.

“Ok, I think that’s everything.” You announce, grateful this little trip is about to end.

As they agree, you all head to the register. Mark sneaks next to you, rubbing his hand on your lower back and giving you a pitiful smile. Looking back at him it almost seems like the whole world disappears and you almost forget why you’re annoyed. That is until he steps away noticing Gabriela starting to turn back at you.

After getting everything on the trunk, Mark volunteers to go return the cart and you just hope he comes back quickly cause you can’t stand being with this girl another minute.

 “You’re close with Mark, aren't you?” She suddenly gets closer.

“Hum, we’re friends, yeah.” You step back, wondering what she’s wanting out of this question.

“Do you know if he has a girlfriend?” She bites her lip and you have to control yourself not to roll your eyes.

“No, he doesn’t.” The way her face brightens up makes your blood boil and you quickly continue. “But he’s not the dating type, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Oh, I bet I could change his mind…” She looks to the side where you can see him make his way back. “You’re not interested in him, are you?”

“What!?” Your eyes widen as she suddenly looks back at you. “Of course not! We’re just friends.”

“Good to know.” She gives you a wink and starts welcoming Mark back like he was gone for a week.

You didn’t think it was possible but the drive back is even worst then when you left the house, now that you know she’ll definitely try to get on with him. Could you have told her to back off, that you’re helplessly in love with this man and that if he’s going to date anyone it’s going to be you? Yes. And no. You’d never admit it out loud.

Getting back into the house, you let out a relieved sigh, finally getting away from Gabriela and focusing on your actual friends. The preparations for the big night soon start and you’re not going easy on the drinks, maybe that will make you forget the afternoon and with it the feelings you have for Mark that you insist on denying.

In the club you try to loosen up, move freely to the beat and let the alcohol do its thing as it flows through your body. But then, through the flashing lights you see Gabriela basically throws herself at Mark. Dancing way too close, talking in his ear, leaving her fingerprints all around him.

It’s too much. You can’t stand this anymore.

In a flash you leave the dance floor. You don’t really know where you’re going, you just need to not have them right in front of you right now. As you reach a corridor where the crowd seems to slightly disperse, you lean against the wall, trying your best not to let your knees give into the floor or your eyes give into the tears that are forming.

“Hey, you ok?” A familiar voice accompanies two hands that steady your body.

“Mark?” He’s like a vision standing in front of you, could you be imagining him?

“Yes, it’s me. I got you.” He tightens his grip on you, holding you closer.

“What are you doing here?” You stumble on your words.

“You just left out of nowhere, I was worried.” His eyes scan your body making sure you are ok.

“What about… Gabriela?” Even in your drunk state you can’t help rolling your eyes.

“Who?” He raises his brow and then relaxes his face when he realises who you’re talking about. “I don’t care, I just want to make sure you’re good.”

“Really?” Your eyes tear up again.

“Yeah.” He chuckles at your silly drunk reaction.

“She’s wants you.” You manage to say as much as it breaks your heart.

“So what? I don’t want her.” He claims as if he didn’t even had to think about it. ”I know we agreed we could be with other people, but I only want to be with you.”

Without a second of hesitation you grab his shirt and let your lips clash into his. The alcohol pushed away all your worries, your blockers, anything that got in the way of you accepting your feelings for him. So you don’t care if anybody sees you, you’re done pretending you don’t want this.

“Are you sure about this?” He doesn’t even check if anyone you know might be around, his focus is only you.

“Take me home, Mark.”

Grabbing your hand, he guides you to the entrance, leaving the club without a word to any of your friends. The walk home, even though fairly close, takes twice as long considering you’re having a hard time following a straight line. To be fair, he’s not that sober either, so you stumble together down the road, laughs filling the almost empty street.

As soon as you walk through the door, you’re all over each other. Clothes make a path on the floor until the living room which is as far as you can go, careless if anybody else comes back too. Your naked bodies settle on the big couch where just last night you were making out. Back then you pushed him away when it started to get serious, but not tonight. Tonight you give yourself to him, completely.

Like magic, a condom appears and he struggles to get it down his hardening length. Gently, you push his shoulders so that he sits down as you get on top of him. Grabbing his face, you stare into each others half lidded eyes before enrolling in a passionate kiss, while you slowly descend on his dick that always fills you up just perfectly.

Clumsily, you move up and down his lap, his hands roaming between your waist and your hips, sometimes helping you move, other times just pulling you closer.

In a mess of kisses, touches, moans, sweat, you don’t know how long you ride him on that couch but eventually he gives into the pleasure. His hand lazily sneaks between your bodies, fingers working they’re magic on your core to make sure you get off too. And then you just lay there, lips still slowly moving together as your bodies come down their highs.

Even if you’re both quite drunk, Mark is a little less than you, so he’s conscious enough to pick you up and take you to your bed when you lay your head on his shoulder, still straddling him, ready to fall asleep right there. As he lays you down on the mattress, you seem to mumble something he can’t understand.

“What?” He chuckles.

“Shh, it’s a secret.” You take your index finger to your lips.

“What secret?” He keeps laughing as he pulls the covers over your body, now covered with a random t-shirt he found around and put on you.

“I love you.” With eyes closed you let out a happy sigh.

Mark stops, not knowing what to say but with a smile forming on his face.

“But you can’t know.” His smile fades as you continue. “You don’t date, you just hook up, that’s the deal. We’d never work.”

And with that he just gets up and leaves the room, not even listening to whatever you ramble next, making sure he at least picks up the clothes you both left behind before crashing into his own bed.

The next morning, you wake up groaning as the sun hits your eyes through the window behind you. Apparently you were way drunker than you thought last night because the memories come in flashes. You were dinking at home with your friends. You hit the club. Gabriela and Mark… Mark coming after you. You two kissing? You went back home. You had sex on the living room! And then-

“Morning, ‘friend’…” Your best friend comes sit on your bed when she notices you move around, actually making air quotes on the last word.

“What?” You mumble, covering your face to block the light.

“Yeah, friends don’t disappear without saying a word!” Crossing her arms she pretends to be upset.

“Sorry, I was-”

“Way too drunk? Oh, we noticed.” She chuckles. “Good thing, Mark brought you home. At least I hope so as he was the only one else home when we arrived.”

Mark. After you fucked he brought you to bed. And then-

“But girl you missed the best part!” She excited but actually tones her voice down, even if it’s only the two of you in the room at the moment. “Gabriela freaked out last night.”

“What do you mean?” Upon hearing the name you sit up, instantly regretting with the throbbing on your head.

“She left the dance floor to go to the bathroom or whatever and when she came back she was all upset, saying things like ‘that bitch’, ‘how could she’, ‘fucking liar’!” She perfectly re-enacts Gabriela’s mannerisms, almost making you laugh until you realise: she must’ve seen you and Mark kiss on the club, just hours after you told her you were not interested.

“Did she say who she was talking about?” You tentatively ask, hoping she didn’t.

“No!” She looks disappointed not to have gotten the full tea.

“Is she around?” You’re suddenly aware this girl might just burst through the door and come at you.

“That’s the weirdest part, she just left!” You feel your shoulders relax in relief. “That friend of hers came back to get their stuff and they just went back home. I really don’t know why Jaehyun keeps inviting these random girls into our friends getaways… Anyway, breakfast?”

With a nod, you drag yourself out of bed and get a quick shower before you join the gang in the kitchen. The water hitting your head is like a medieval torture method, but the way it runs down your body actually feels pretty nice. Like the sweat travelling through your skin last night.

Last night. Right. Mark helped you to bed. And then…Shit! Did you really tell him you love him? Or did you dream it? Shit! Maybe he doesn’t remember. Yeah, he was drunk too. Hopefully too drunk.

After putting some clothes on, you carefully step into the kitchen, watching out for Mark. Maybe his reaction when he sees you will tell you if he heard you or not. But he’s nowhere to be found, could he have left too?

Gathering some things, not much, on a plate, you notice some people are eating outside, enjoying the sun. And you finally spot him. He seems… Normal? He has seen you yet, though. You decide to go outside as well, spotting a place not too close to him that he’d might feel uncomfortable but not too far from him that it would seem like you’re avoiding him.

You do a general greeting before sitting down but fail to look straight at his face, suddenly feeling embarrassed. After a while, some people head back inside, including Mark, which leaves you a bit disappointed. However he comes back out taking a seat next to you.

“Hangover?” He simply asks, facing the pool outside.

“Terribly.” You both chuckle. “You?”

“Probably a little less than you.” Silence instals after, why does this feel so awkward?

“Look, about last night…” You start saying after a while.

“Don’t worry about it.” He interrupts. “We’re good.”

And just like that silence settles in again. What can you say after that? Worst thing is, that doesn’t even give you an answer as to wether he heard it or not.

Later that day, everybody starts packing to get back home. You and Mark don’t really exchange any further words than a quick goodbye as you do to everyone else. And that ends up extending to the following week. He used to text you some times, even if it was just with a funny meme, but not even that this time. You’re the one that sent him a meme or two but he just reacts with a crying laughing emoji, no words.

The following weekend you’ve had enough. You miss him. Not just physically, you miss his essence, the way he brightens your day, the way he’s just… Him. So you give him a call.

We’re sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is not available right now.

But it rang before. So you know he declined. Now you’re sure. He heard you. He heard you say you love him. But he also heard say you’d never work. How could you have been so stupid? All this time he’s been trying to tell you he feels something for you, whatever it is. So much that he’s willing to actually settle down with you. And you’ve been a total idiot pretending you don’t want it too. So what if it ends up not working out? Life isn’t perfect and not everything goes according to plan, but you gotta live a little. Do you really want to let something good just slip through your fingers?

That’s it. You grab a jacket and head out the door, straight up to Mark’s place, not even bothering to change the old ass leggings and t-shirt you have underneath. As you get there, you knock on the door and wait, able to hear cheers and video game sounds coming from outside.

“Hey!” Johnny greets you at the door. “What’s up?”

“Yeah, not much.” You awkwardly smile at the small talk, re-thinking if you should actually be doing this. “Is, hm, Mark here?”

“Oh, let me check.” He goes back in and you wonder if Mark told him to pretend he wasn’t around.

You wait patiently outside, starting to believe he might never come and considering just going back home. Until finally Mark comes to the door. Casual sweat pants and shirt, hood over his head to cover his messy hair. How can he just look so good at all times?

“Hey…” His voice is raspy, like he hasn’t talked in a while, maybe you just miss him too much cause you feel it between your thighs.

“Hi.” You manage to say even though nothing comes out after it.

“You ok?” He eventually asks.

“Yeah, you?” You internally cringe at this whole interaction. “I called earlier, but you didn’t answer.”

“Sorry, I was taking a nap.” That explains the voice, but he did decline the call though… “Do you need something?”

“Can we talk?”

“Aren’t we already?” He chuckles and it actually helps lighten the mood.

“Yeah, well, not here.” You glance inside and see a few curious heads hide. “Can we go for a walk?”

“Hm…” He looks down at his clothes wondering if he should change, but then he sees what you’re wearing too. “Sure.”

Mark grabs his keys and you two start going down the street. The first steps are silent, until you turn the corner and you decide to finally confirm.

“That night at the house… You heard what I said didn’t you?” You keep looking ahead, not able to glance his way.

“What part?” He asks, not looking at you either. “When you said you love me, or when you said I’m just a hook up and we could never work?”

You curse under your breath. He did listen to every single word.

“If you came to apologize, you don’t have to.” He continues.

“Actually I do.” You stop walking and hold his arms making him stop as well. “Not because you heard it, but because that’s not what I really meant.”

“What do you mean?”

“What I mean is…” You take a deep breath and decide to just let it all out. “I don’t think you’re just a hook up. I would like to give us a chance if you want it too. And if we end up not working out, at least we know we tried. The only thing I said truthful that night was that I actually love you. More than I though I ever would.”

“So why aren’t we having this conversation back in the house?” He shrugs. “You’re saying all those things because it’s just the two of us here. I’ve been trying to tell you all this time that I love you but you’re always worried somebody will find out about us. I’m tired of this game, I’m tired of being your toy.”

“Mark, you’re not a toy, I promise. I really love you and I don’t want to hide anymore.” You plea grabbing both his hands.

“Than prove it.” He says looking straight into your eyes.

“How?”

“Figure it out.” He lets go of your hands and keeps walking.

For a few seconds you wonder how you’ll make him believe you as you watch him get further away. Then your grab you phone and make a call.

“Hey, Ahreum.”

At the sound of your best friend’s name, Mark turns around wondering what you’re doing.

“I have something to tell you.”

He knows you two long enough to know you tell each other everything, she’s one of the most important people in your life.

“Thing is… I’m in love.”

But he also knows you never told her anything about the two of you.

“And the person I’m in love with is-”

You get cut off when he runs back, embracing you with a kiss. You can’t help melt into him, arms wrapping around his waist to pull him closer.

“Thank you.” He whispers before joining your lips once more.

Around you two it’s only the sound of happiness of two friends who unexpectedly found love in each other and decided to give it a chance.

That and the sound of your best friend screaming through the phone.

“WHAT?? WHO IS IT?? HELLO!!”

☽ ・・・・・ ☾

A broken little sound escapes as you circle your clit, slow, teasing, the same way you’ve imagined he would if he ever—God—if he ever let himself unravel like this.

“Mmh… gege, are you worried about me?” The words come out filthy, breathless, wrong in the best way. “Do you… think about me when you’re alone too?”

You press two fingers inside yourself, curling, pumping, thighs shaking. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit and your hips jerk forward like you’re fucking your own hand, like you’re chasing a ghost that wears his face.

You’ve never touched each other. Not once. Not beyond lingering hugs that lasted too long, not beyond his thumb brushing your cheek when you cried after graduation, not beyond falling asleep on his shoulder during long flights home and pretending both of you didn’t notice how neither moved away.

But you know.

You both know.

“C-Caleb—” His name cracks in your throat as you come undone, clenching hard around your fingers, knees nearly buckling. Water pounds over you like it’s trying to wash the sin off your skin, but it can’t reach the stain inside your chest.

You stay there until the water starts to cool, forehead pressed to the tile, panting, ashamed, and still aching for him.

Because even an entire city apart, even with new lives and new rules and the Hunter Academy waiting to swallow you whole tomorrow—Caleb is still the only home you want to go back to.

And you’re terrified he wants to come back to you too.

You step out of the bathroom wrapped in nothing but steam and guilt, skin still tingling, cheeks flaming hotter than the shower ever got. Droplets race down your neck, your spine, between your ass cheeks; every trickle feels like a reprimand. You don’t even bother with clothes. You just belly-flop onto the bed, wet hair fanning across the pillow, and immediately start flailing like a dying shrimp.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” you hiss, kicking the sheets, punching the mattress, rolling side to side until the towel finally gives up and falls open. You lie there spread-eagle, panting at the ceiling like it personally offended you.

You miss your stupid, overprotective, stupidly hot gege this much.

It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic.

You need to do something about it before you lose the last shred of your sanity.

With a groan you drag the laptop Caleb bought you—matte black, way too expensive, has a little fighter-jet sticker he slapped on the lid as a joke— onto your stomach and flip it open. Fingers hover over the keys for half a second before shame loses the fight.

You type: “best sex toys for beginners”.

The screen explodes with color and silicone and words like “thrusting” and “suction” and “10 vibration patterns”. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh WOW…”

You scroll, jaw literally on the floor, until you hit the prices and wheeze. Eight hundred dollars for a rabbit vibrator? Who has that kind of money? Certainly not a broke freshman hunter living off instant noodles and Caleb’s guilt-money transfers.

You slam the laptop shut, fling yourself backward again, and whine at the ceiling.

“Too broke for that… damn, I can’t even get a proper dildo shoved up into my pussy, life is unfair—”

Ding ding.

Your phone lights up on the nightstand. Unknown number. A link.

Normally you’d ignore it. Today you’re desperate and dumb, so you squint, see “70% OFF FLASH SALE!!” in screaming red letters, and click before your brain catches up.

The site that loads is… questionable. Neon pink, flickering banners, probably one virus away from stealing your soul. But front and center is a product that makes your heart stop.

“Feel Like Someone You Love”

100% customizable hyper-realistic silicone sleeve + internal texture mapping

“Upload a photo, choose vein pattern, pick warmth settings; experience the exact cock you’ve always dreamed of.”

Your mouth goes dry.

There’s a little heart icon that says “Most Wishlisted Item of the Year”.

You shouldn’t.

You really, really shouldn’t.

But your finger is already over the “Customize Now” button and your thighs are already squeezing together remembering how your own fingers felt pretending they were his.

Ten minutes later you’ve uploaded the clearest photo you have of Caleb—him leaning against the cockpit of his fighter, flight suit half-zipped, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. You pick the length you’ve definitely never measured in your head while hugging him goodbye, the exact girth your dirty imagination has circled back to for years, the upward curve you’ve caught a glimpse of once through his sweatpants and never recovered from.

Veins: raised, prominent, just like the ones on his forearms when he carries your luggage without breaking a sweat. Warmth setting: “always hot, like he just worked out”. Internal texture: “tight but yielding, the way you bet he’d feel if he ever snapped and pinned you down.

The total, with the sketchy discount, is suspiciously low. Delivery: 3–5 days, discreet packaging.

Your finger hovers over “Place Order”. Morals scream. Pussy throbs harder. You hit the button before you can talk yourself out of it.

Order confirmed. You drop the phone like it’s on fire, roll facedown into the pillow, and muffle a scream that’s half horror, half unbearable anticipation.

In three to five days, you’re going to fuck a perfect replica of the cock belonging to the one person you’re never, ever supposed to want.

And you already know you’re going to call it gege while you do.

Five days of checking the mailbox like a lunatic. Five days of that stupid website 404-ing every time you tried to track the order. Five days of punching training dummies with your entire soul while screaming internally about getting scammed out of your last paycheck for a ghost dick.

“FUCK, IT WAS A SCAM!” you snarl, slamming an uppercut into the dummy’s throat so hard the stuffing starts leaking, “WHAT WAS I THINKING!”. Your squadmates give you a wide berth, whispering. Whatever. Let them think you’re unhinged. You are unhinged.

Then your phone buzzes against your hip. Package delivered.

You don’t even wait for the instructor to dismiss you. You just bolt, boots pounding pavement the whole way back, lungs burning, sweat cooling on your neck in the evening air. The second the apartment door slams behind you, you spot the box.

Plain brown. No labels except your name in printed font. You drop to your knees like a woman possessed, nails clawing at tape, ripping cardboard like it owes you money. The lid flies off. And you stop breathing.

Nestled in black satin is the most obscene, perfect, terrifying cock you’ve ever seen.

It’s huge. Stupidly, ridiculously huge. Thick veins snake up the shaft, only these are flushed dark, pulsing faintly with the built-in warming tech. The head is that deep brownish-pink, flared and glistening from whatever hyper-realistic coating they used. Heavy balls hang low, weighted, shifting slightly when you nudge the box.

You don’t remember setting the length slider this high.

You don’t care. Your mouth actually waters.

“Oh wow…” It comes out strangled. You fall back onto your ass, legs splayed, staring at the thing like it might stand up and walk over to you itself. “Oh my god.”

Your pussy clenches so hard you feel it in your throat.

You haven’t even taken your sweaty training gear off and you’re already dripping down your thighs.

You pick it up with both hands—jesus, it’s warm, heavier than expected and the second your fingers close around the shaft it pulses again, like it knows who it belongs to.

Like it’s been waiting for you just as long as you’ve been waiting for him.

You press the thick head against your cheek without thinking, dragging it down to your lips, breathing in the clean, new-silicone scent mixed with whatever insane tech makes it smell faintly like his cologne.

“Fuck, gege…” you whisper against the tip, voice cracking.

The toy throbs in your grip like it heard you.

You have never sprinted to lock your bedroom door faster in your life.You don’t make it to the bed.

The second the lock clicks you’re already peeling off your sweat-soaked clothes, sports bra flung somewhere, shorts kicked aside, panties dragged down your thighs and left dangling off one ankle. The toy is still in your grip, hot against your palm, veins pulsing faintly with the internal heater like it has a heartbeat.

You drop to your knees on the rug, legs spreading wide without shame, back hitting the edge of the mattress. The thick head nudges your lips and you open instantly, greedy, tongue flattening against the underside as you take the first few inches into your mouth. It’s too big; your jaw aches immediately, drool already spilling down your chin, but you force yourself deeper, gagging softly, eyes watering.

You pull off with a wet pop and a broken moan.

“Need you inside me, gege… please—”

You flip onto all fours, ass in the air, face buried in the sheets that still smell like the detergent he used to buy for both of you back home. One hand reaches back, guiding the fat tip through your soaked folds, coating it, teasing your clit until your thighs shake.

Then you push.

The stretch is obscene. Your pussy flutters, resists, then gives all at once. A strangled cry rips out of you as the first half sinks in, thick veins dragging against your walls, that perfect upward curve kissing spots you’ve never reached with your fingers. You claw at the sheets, hips jerking back on instinct, taking more, more, until your ass meets the heavy silicone balls and you’re stuffed so full you can’t breathe.

“F-fuck—Caleb—”

You pull forward until only the head remains, then slam back. The impact makes you scream into the mattress. Again. Harder. Faster. Your tits bounce with every brutal thrust, nipples dragging against the rug, thighs slapping against silicone like they’re slapping against his hips.

You lose count of how many times you fuck yourself on it. You lose language. All that exists is the wet, filthy sound of your cunt swallowing him, the burn in your thighs, the way your clit throbs every time the base grinds against it.

You flip over, legs thrown wide, knees hooked over your elbows so you can watch. Watch the way your pussy lips stretched thin around his cock, watch it disappear inside you again and again, slick coating everything, dripping down your ass, pooling on the floor.

“Look what you do to me, gege,” you sob, voice wrecked. “Look how wet you make me—how empty I am without you—fuck, I’m such a slut for you—”

Your free hand flies to your clit, rubbing frantic circles, and the orgasm barrels into you like a freight train. You squirt, actually squirt, a gush that soaks the toy and your thighs and the rug beneath you. Your walls clamp down so hard the dildo almost slips out, but you shove it deeper, riding the aftershocks, grinding, crying his name like a prayer.

You don’t stop.

You can’t.

You pull it out only long enough to flip the toy around and shove the slick head against your ass, teasing, not quite brave enough yet, but the thought alone makes you come again, smaller this time, a full-body shudder that leaves you gasping.

When you finally collapse, the dildo is still buried to the hilt, your pussy fluttering around it in lazy pulses. You’re trembling, sweaty, ruined. Tears and drool and cum smeared across your face and chest.

You reach down blindly, fingers brushing the base, and give it one last slow thrust just to hear yourself whimper.

“…come home soon, gege,” you whisper to the empty room, voice hoarse. “I don’t think this is gonna be enough anymore.”

The toy stays inside you the rest of the night. You fall asleep clenching around it, dreaming of the real thing finally splitting you open.

—

—

Skyhaven, DAA parade grounds, 18:47 local.

Caleb is standing at parade rest, flight jacket crisp, medals gleaming, trying to look like the perfect poster boy for the Deepspace Aviation Academy while the brass drones on about honor and vigilance. The formation is dead silent except for the wind whipping the flags.

Then it starts.

A faint tingle at the base of his spine. He shifts his weight, ignores it. Probably just nerves.

Gideon elbows him from the left. “Dude, you good? You’re sweating bullets.”

Caleb forces a laugh, teeth clenched. “Yeah, just hot in this jacket.”

The tingle turns into heat. A slow, syrupy, pooling right behind his balls. His cock twitches once, then again, harder, like someone just wrapped a fist around it and squeezed.

He locks his knees to keep from swaying.

The sensation climbs. Something slick and impossibly tight slides down his shaft, inch by inch, swallowing him whole. His breath stutters. The wet spot blooming at the front of his dress pants is impossible to hide now; he angles his body behind the guy in front of him, praying nobody notices.

Another squeeze. A rhythmic drag. Something soft and spongy kissing the tip over and over and over.

His vision whites out for half a second. He breaks formation without permission, muttering a choked “bathroom” to Gideon’s startled face, and bolts.

He barely makes it to the nearest restroom, slamming the lock, back hitting the door as his trembling fingers rip his belt open. The second his cock springs free it’s flushed angry red, leaking like a faucet, veins bulging exactly the way you spent hours customizing.

He doesn’t even touch himself.

He doesn’t have to.

The feeling slams into him again: tight, wet heat clenching around him, riding him hard, fast, merciless. Invisible hips slam down, grind, pull up, slam down again. His balls draw up so tight it hurts.

“F-fuck—!” The moan tears out of him; he slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes rolling back, hips jerking into empty air like he’s fucking someone bent over the sink in front of him.

Every thrust feels real. Too real. He can feel slick walls fluttering, a cervix nudging the head on every brutal stroke, the phantom slap of skin on skin he’s never actually heard but somehow knows by heart.

His knees buckle. He grips the porcelain with white knuckles, forehead pressed to the cool mirror, panting like he’s running a marathon.

“Ah—shit—stop—please—” he doesn’t even know who he’s begging.

The pace only gets rougher.

He comes without warning, a broken cry muffled against his own arm, thick ropes painting the sink, the mirror, his dress shirt. His cock jerks and jerks like it’s being milked by a throat, a pussy, something greedy and possessive and familiar.

The orgasm doesn’t stop. It rolls straight into another, smaller but sharper, and his legs finally give out. He slides down the door until he’s sitting on the cold tile, cock still half-hard, twitching with aftershocks, cum dripping down his fist even though he never stroked himself once.

Chest heaving, he stares at the mess in dazed horror. “What the fuck was that…?”

Three hundred miles away, you’re still sprawled on your bedroom floor, impaled on the toy, whispering his name like a prayer while it throbs inside you.

Neither of you has any idea the link goes both ways. Yet.

Every night for the past ten days it’s the same ritual.

You stumble through the door still in your sweat-drenched hunter uniform, kick off your boots, and don’t even bother with the lights. The second the bedroom door shuts behind you, clothes hit the floor in a frantic trail. You’re already soaked before you even touch the toy, thighs slick, pussy throbbing like it’s been counting the hours until you get home to it.

You keep the dildo in the top drawer now, wrapped in one of Caleb’s old flight academy T-shirts like a dirty little secret. The moment your fingers close around the warm shaft it pulses, eager, like it missed you just as badly.

And three hundred miles away, Caleb starts sweating through whatever he’s doing.

Day 4

You ride it reverse on the desk chair, feet planted wide, rolling your hips slow and deep just to feel every vein drag inside you.

In Skyhaven, Caleb drops an entire tray of coffee in the cadet mess, doubles over the table with a choked gasp, thighs clamping together while his cock leaks helplessly into his boxers. Gideon has to drag him out by the elbow while Caleb stammers something about food poisoning.

Day 6

You’re on your knees in the shower, toy suction-cupped to the tile, slamming back onto it until your ass is red and the water runs cold.

Caleb’s in the middle of a night-flight simulator run. Mid-loop his whole body locks up; he yanks the stick too hard, fails the exercise, and spends ten minutes curled in the cockpit seat coming untouched while the instructor screams over the headset.

Day 8

You can’t wait anymore the second you get home. You don’t even make it to the bedroom. You drop onto the hallway floor, legs over your head, fucking yourself with both holes now—the replica so slick from your pussy it slides into your ass easy. You scream his name until your voice cracks.

Caleb’s in the barracks laundry room folding clothes. One second he’s fine, the next he’s on the floor, biting his own forearm to stay quiet while his cock jerks and feels violated by invisible forces. He comes so hard his vision blacks out. When he can move again he finds the crotch of his pants soaked front and back and has no explanation.

Day 10

You’re greedy. You strap the toy to a pillow, mount it like you’re riding him for real, hands braced on the headboard, hips snapping down so hard the bedframe slams the wall in rhythm.

“Gege—fuck—harder—please, I need—”

You sob it into the dark, tears streaking your cheeks, pussy gushing all over the silicone balls.

In Skyhaven, Caleb is supposed to be asleep. Instead he jerks awake in his bunk with a wounded sound, sheets twisted around his hips, cock so hard it hurts. The sensation hits like a punch: tight, wet heat swallowing him to the root, grinding, milking. Something inside him —his ass—clenches around nothing and everything at once. He shoves his face into his pillow and comes instantly, whole body convulsing, biting down so hard he tastes blood.

When it finally fades he’s shaking, drenched in sweat, heart hammering like he just ran ten miles.

He drags a trembling hand down his stomach and finds his cock still-hard cock slick with his own release and something else—slicker, warmer, smelling faintly smelling like you.

For the first time, real fear cuts through the haze. Because whatever is doing this to him isn’t random. And it’s getting stronger every night.

Caleb hasn’t slept properly in twelve days. Every night the “ghost” comes back. Every night it rides him harder, tighter, wetter, like it’s learning exactly how to unravel him.

He’s stopped trying to fight it. He just locks his door, shoves his face into his pillow, and lets the phantom cunt milk him dry while his cock leaks and his ass clenches around nothing and his brain short-circuits with the same voice that’s haunted him since puberty.

Your voice.

He’s started jerking off to the memory of it in the showers, biting his own fist so his bunkmates don’t hear him whimpering “pipsqueak” like a prayer.

He’s losing his fucking mind.

So when he’s alone in the dorm common room at 0300, half delirious, cock still half-hard from another unsolicited orgasm, he does the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life.

He googles the symptoms.

Ends up on the same neon-pink, virus-looking website you found weeks ago.

The banner screams: FEEL LIKE SOMEONE YOU LOVE — NOW WITH REVERSE SYNC!

He doesn’t read the fine print. He’s too tired, too desperate, too turned on.

He uploads the clearest photo he has of you—last summer, you in that sundress, laughing at something he said, hair sticking to your sweaty neck.

He customizes everything with shaking hands,outer lips soft and plump, exactly the way he’s imagined a thousand times when you walked around the house in tiny sleep shorts. Inner walls textured like crushed velvet, tight at the entrance, then fluttering deeper. Clit hood pronounced, sensitive node swollen —because he’s spent years pretending he doesn’t notice how you squirm when he hugs you too long enough. Warmth setting: “always soaked, like she’s been thinking about you all day.” Scent module: the exact peach-and-vanilla body wash you’ve used since you were fifteen.

He pays triple for overnight shipping. The box arrives two days later while the entire barracks is out on a weekend training hike. Caleb locks himself in his room, heart hammering like a jet engine.

He tears the packaging open with his teeth. Inside, nestled in black satin, is the prettiest pocket pussy he’s ever seen.

Soft, dusky outer lips, flushed pink inside, already glistening with the self-lubricating gel. It’s warm to the touch, pulsing faintly like it’s breathing.

He exhales a broken “fuck… so pretty…” and runs two fingers down the seam, parting the lips gently. The toy quivers. A bead of lube rolls out like it’s already wet for him.

He doesn’t make it to the bed.

He drops into his desk chair, sweatpants shoved down to his hips, cock springing out thick and flushed and already dripping. He drags the head through the slick folds once, twice, coating himself, groaning at how realistic it feels.

Then he pushes in.

The sound that rips out of him is inhuman.

Tight, hot, velvet walls clamp down instantly, sucking him deeper like they’ve been waiting years. The inner texture ripples around his shaft exactly the way he’s fantasized your pussy would—fluttering, squeezing, dragging over every vein.

He bottoms out in one brutal thrust and his vision whites out.

“Fuck—pipsqueak—” he chokes, hips jerking helplessly. “Is this how you’re supposed to feel? So good—so fucking real—”

He starts slow, savoring it, pulling out until just the tip kisses the entrance, then sliding back in with a wet squelch that makes his balls draw up tight. The toy makes obscene sounds—soft, wet, exactly like a real cunt taking cock—and every noise goes straight to his spine.

He loses control fast.

Hands gripping the desk, he starts pounding into it like he hates it, like he loves it, hips snapping hard enough to rattle the chair. The pocket pussy sucks him back in on every stroke, walls fluttering wildly, clit hood bumping his pelvis on the downstroke.

“Take it—just like that—fuck, you’re so tight for me—”

He doesn’t notice the way the toy seems to clench harder when he says your nickname. Doesn’t notice the way it gushes fresh slick every time he groans “good girl” under his breath.

Three hundred miles away, you’re in the middle of a lecture at the Hunter Academy when your body suddenly locks up. A phantom cock—thick, burning hot, veiny—slides into you from nowhere. Your pen clatters to the desk. You slap both hands over your mouth to stifle a scream as invisible hips slam forward and bury something huge to the hilt inside you.

Your pussy spasms around empty air. Your clit throbs like someone’s grinding against it. Your chair creaks as your thighs snap together, trying to trap the sensation that isn’t there and is there all at once.

The “ghost” fucks you right there in the lecture hall, in front of thirty other cadets, relentless and deep and merciless.

You cum biting your own wrist so hard you leave teeth marks, tears streaming down your face, soaking through your panties and the seat beneath you while the professor drones on about wanderer migration patterns.

Back in Skyhaven, Caleb’s losing his mind in a different way.

He’s hunched over the desk now, one hand braced, the other brutally fucking the toy up and down his cock, chasing the edge.

“Gonna—fuck—gonna fill you up, pipsqueak—take every drop—”

He comes with a guttural shout, hips stuttering, cock pulsing so hard the toy overflows. Thick ropes of cum spill out around his shaft, dripping down the silicone lips, painting his fist, the desk, his thighs.

The pocket pussy keeps milking him through it, walls fluttering like it’s trying to drain him completely.

He slumps forward, forehead pressed to the cool wood, panting like he’s run a marathon.

The toy gives one last gentle squeeze… almost affectionate.

And somewhere far away, you’re curled in the academy bathroom stall, legs shaking, pussy still twitching with aftershocks, a flood of cum you didn’t make leaking out of you in thick, warm pulses.

You both whisper the same thing at the exact same second, voices hoarse and wrecked and terrified,“What the fuck is happening to me?”

—

—

The entire summer break is a slow-motion torture.

You arrive at Bloomshore first, two hours early because the Academy let out sooner than DAA. Grandma hugs you so hard your ribs creak, pinches your cheeks, stuffs you full of peach cobbler and gossip. The childhood house smells exactly the same: sun-warmed wood, sea-salt breeze, the faint lavender sachets she still keeps in every drawer. Your old bedroom is untouched, posters curling at the corners, the same twin bed you used to share with Caleb when thunderstorms scared you.

You dump your suitcase, unzip it, and there it is: the dildo, wrapped in one of his old flight-school hoodies like contraband. It’s been two days since you last used it and your body is already twitching, thighs pressing together every time you remember how it feels.

You shove it under the mattress and try to be normal. Then the front door opens downstairs and you hear his voice.

“Gran squeals, “Caleb, my handsome boy!”

You freeze halfway down the stairs.

He’s… bigger. Shoulders filling the doorway, hair longer and tousled from the wind, sunglasses hooked in the collar of a white T-shirt that clings to his chest. He’s grinning at Gran, but the same crooked smile that’s been haunting your wet dreams for months.

Then his eyes flick up and find you. “Hey, pipsqueak… and Gran.”

Your stomach flips so violently you almost trip on the last step. You launch yourself at him anyway, because that’s what you’ve always done. He catches you mid-jump like you weigh nothing, arms banding around your waist, laughing low in his chest as you collide.

“Yup, gege’s here. How’s my meimei doing in Linkon, hm?”

The second his palm settles on the back of your head, petting like when you were kids, every filthy memory slams into you at once—the toy stretching you open, the way you sobbed his name into your pillow, the phantom cum that leaked out of you for days afterward.

Your face ignites. You feel the heat of his body through his shirt, the flex of his biceps as he holds you, the faint cedar-and-jet-fuel scent that is just him. You jerk away like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Huh… me? …oh… uh… good! I’m doing… good!!!”

Your voice cracks on every syllable. You practically sprint past him, suitcase banging against your leg, and disappear into your room so fast you almost take out the coat rack.

Caleb stands there frozen, arms still half-raised, cheeks flushed crimson for reasons he refuses to examine.

Gran raises an eyebrow. “You two are acting mighty strange.”

He clears his throat, grabs his own duffel, and mutters something about needing a shower.

That night neither of you comes down for dinner.

You lie in your childhood bed, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars you stuck on the ceiling together when you were ten, thighs clenched so tight they ache. You can hear him moving around in the room next door, the creak of his old mattress, the low thud of his bag hitting the floor.

You wonder if he brought it too. You wonder if he’s touching it right now. Across the wall, Caleb is wondering the exact same thing about you.

Both toys are hidden under respective mattresses, pulsing faintly like they know they’re finally under the same roof as their match.

The air-conditioner rattles. Crickets hum outside. The house is asleep.

Neither of you sleeps a wink. And somewhere in the dark, two identical warming circuits kick on at the exact same moment, waiting for someone to break first.

The first night back home, the dam breaks at 2:17 AM.

You’ve been tossing in your childhood bed for hours, sheets tangled around your ankles, thighs slick and aching from the constant low thrum of need that started the second you heard his laugh downstairs. The house is silent except for the distant crash of waves on Bloomshore’s cliffs and the faint creak of floorboards in the next room.

He’s right there.

Walls so thin you can hear him breathing if you press your ear to the plaster.

And under your mattress, the toy waits, warm and heavy and calling to you like a siren.

You give in with a muffled curse, fishing it out, fingers trembling as you drag it between your legs. No prep. No teasing. You’re already dripping, have been since that hug, so you just line up the fat head and sink down in one brutal slide.

The stretch is immediate and vicious, your pussy clenching around silicone veins like it’s starving. You bite your pillow to stifle the moan, hips rocking slow at first, savoring the drag, the way it kisses your cervix on every grind.

In the next room, Caleb jolts awake with a strangled gasp.

His cock—already half-hard from dreams of you—suddenly feels like it’s being strangled in velvet. Tighter than ever. Hotter. Wetter. The phantom walls clamp down so hard his vision spots, every ridge and flutter magnified tenfold, like whatever’s fucking him is twice as desperate tonight.

He scrambles for his duffel under the bed, yanking out the pocket pussy with shaking hands. No way he’s enduring this alone. He shoves his boxers down, spits into the toy’s slick entrance, and thrusts in without mercy.

The second he bottoms out, you scream into your sheets.

It’s like a second cock slams into you alongside the first—thicker, hotter, splitting you open from the inside. Your walls flutter wildly, stretched beyond reason, the dual sensations overlapping in a filthy symphony: the toy’s familiar curve grinding one spot while the phantom one drags against another, both pounding in perfect sync.

“F-fuck—gege—what—” you whimper, confused and wrecked, hips jerking up to meet nothing and everything. Your clit throbs like it’s being sucked, your ass clenches around air that feels full. You shove the dildo deeper, faster, chasing the burn, tears leaking down your cheeks as your body tries to process being double-fucked by ghosts.

Caleb’s teeth sink into his own bicep to keep from roaring loud enough to wake Grandma.

The toy is a vice. His cock feels like it’s being crushed in the best way—walls so tight they might snap him in half, rippling and milking with every brutal thrust. It’s wetter than before, slick gushing out around his shaft like the thing is coming alive, and every time he pulls back it sucks him in harder, deeper, the inner texture fluttering like a heartbeat.

“Pipsqueak—shit—too tight—gonna break me—” he growls through clenched teeth, one hand braced on the headboard, the other fucking the toy up and down his length so fast his arm burns. His balls slap against silicone with every snap, heavy and aching, the pressure building so intense he’s terrified he’ll black out.

You both lose track of time, separated by one flimsy wall, fucking your toys in frantic rhythm without knowing you’re fucking each other.

For you, it’s endless—the dildo splitting your pussy while the invisible cock mirrors every move, stretching you to your limits, making you gush so hard the sheets are soaked beneath your ass. You come once with a muffled sob, clenching around both, but it doesn’t stop—the sensations only amp up, phantom veins dragging inside you, a second head nudging spots that make your toes curl.

“More—gege, please—fill me up—” you beg the dark, fingers flying to your clit, rubbing frantic circles while you slam the toy home again and again.

Caleb hears something—a faint, wrecked whine through the wall—and it snaps his last thread.

He flips onto his back, legs spread wide, and fucks into the pocket pussy like a man possessed. The tightness is agonizing now, walls constricting so hard around his cock he swears it’s going to cut off circulation—hot, pulsing, fluttering like it’s alive and greedy and his. Every thrust sends sparks up his spine; his free hand claws at the sheets, hips bucking off the mattress.

“Take it—fuck, just like that—my good girl—” he rasps, voice hoarse, imagining your face, your body, the way you’d look split open on him for real.

The orgasm hits you both at the same instant.

You arch off the bed with a silent scream, pussy spasming around double fullness, squirting in thick arcs that drench your thighs and the toy. The phantom cum floods you—hot, thick, endless—leaking out around the dildo, pooling between your legs, making everything slicker, messier.

Caleb comes with a guttural “fuck—pipsqueak—” bitten off against his fist, cock jerking so hard the toy overflows instantly. Cum spills everywhere—his stomach, the sheets, the silicone lips stretched thin around him—but the walls keep milking, squeezing tighter than humanly possible, wringing every drop until his balls ache and his vision tunnels.

You both collapse in sweaty, trembling heaps, toys still buried deep, aftershocks rippling through you like shared electricity.

The wall between your rooms might as well not exist.

But neither of you moves. Neither knocks. Neither dares whisper the truth.

Instead, you pull the covers over your ruined body, the dildo still twitching faintly inside you, and pretend your heart isn’t pounding loud enough for him to hear.

Next door, Caleb does the exact same, cock softening in the vice-grip of the toy, a single thought looping in his wrecked mind,

Tomorrow night, he’s doing it again.

And so are you.

You nod too fast, cheeks heating as you tug the blanket higher, squishing your thighs together, praying the movement looks causal.

“Are you sure? You’ve been… I dunno… weird tonight.”

“Weird?” you squeak. “What do you mean?”

Caleb turns fully toward you, and you stubbornly keep your gaze locked on the screen. Something shifts in the air under his attention, the room warming and suddenly shrinking two sizes too small. 

“Hey,” his voice is gentle. “Look at me.”

You swallow hard, finding your will, and turn your head. 

Caleb’s eyes are wide, but not with concern alone. They drift over the blanket wrapped around your body, then back to your face, soft but intent. 

“You don’t have to lie,” he murmurs. “I can tell you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not!” you defend quickly. “I could never be uncomfortable with you. I’m just… having one of those days…”

“Yeah?” His voice drops then, like he already knows. He shifts just an inch closer and it makes everything worse. “Y’know you don’t have to lie to me, pips.”

You close your eyes, exhaling. He’s not going to let it go.

“It’s just… that day during my cycle,” you mutter, fingers twisting in the blanket. “It… makes me all flustered and…” you trail off, never more embarrassed. 

“Can I help?”

Your eyes snap open. “W-What?”

“Can I help?” he repeats, already moving closer to crowd your space. Large arms brace on either side of your hips. His gaze goes hazy, hungry in a way you’ve never let yourself notice before. “Please?”

You choke on a gasp, the sound breaking into a needy whine. Your mind pulls in two opposite directions–your pussy throbbing helplessly at the offer while your heart twists at how much could change if you give in. 

The decision is made for you. Caleb sees the hesitation, but the desire in your eyes win. His lips crash onto yours.

You melt instantly. Of course you do. Your fingers tangle in his hair, dragging him close while you pant into his mouth like you’ve been craving this for far longer than just tonight. 

Your heart pounds in time with the pulse between your thighs, completely soaking you through the dainty fabric. 

No more words. Caleb's hands do the talking, rough and impatient as they yank your shorts down your legs. His gaze immediately darts to your panties and he groans low in his throat. 

“Oh my… fuck…” he breaths, already shoving his sweats down. “Why didn’t you let me help you earlier?” 

“I–I was embarrassed.” You admit, failing against the cushions. 

“You never have to be embarrassed, baby…” the pet name curls around you, warm and possessive. “Never for this.” 

He settles over you, sweats pushed low but boxers still on. His cock is painfully hard, straining against the fabric, but he doesn’t touch himself—just presses the thick length right against your soaked, cotton covered core. 

You gasp, the contact is electric, exactly what your pussy’s been begging for. Caleb dips down and captures your lips, the kiss turning messy almost instantly. You cling to each other, exhaling loud out of your noses to not separate. His hips drag, pulling sweet little whines from your throat.

Caleb’s lip part as a raw moan slips free, his lips still dragging wet kisses across yours. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes half-lidded and completely fixated, like he can’t believe this is real. The hard line in his boxers grinds against the thin cotton covering your heat again. 

Best friends definitely weren’t supposed to be doing this. But the forbidden edge tastes so sweet, and the simple, devastating fact that it’s him, only makes it more addictive.

You lift your hips aggressively, chasing friction when the head of his cock brushes your swollen clit through the layers. Your panties are drenched now, letting him slide easily, every drag spending sparks up your spine. The wrongness of it, the rightness of him, is intoxicating.

Your sweet, protective best friend, reduced to nothing but a man desperate for any form of contact from you.

“Pips…” he groans, pressing harder. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

A wicked smirk curves your lips before you pull him back into a messy, open-mouthed kiss that's full of a hunger neither of you wishes to hide. Your teeth sink into his bottom lip, then your tongue soothes the sting. 

His large hands roam up from your hips to squeeze your breasts through the thin fabric of his t-shirt you’d stolen tonight. You–all bare legs, skimpy panties, and his shirt–has him twitching in his boxers. 

“Fuck…” he pants, pulling back from the kiss, but never stilling his shallow thrusts. Conflict suddenly flashes in his eyes. “We…we shouldn’t be—ah!—doing this.”

You manage a sweet, dangerously innocent voice, slowly rocking your hips—just once, over his throbbing need. “W-Why not, Caleb? You’re just helping me. We’re…mmph…not doing anything wrong.”

He groans at the obvious lie, bracing himself on his forearms to suspend his weight over you. His muscles are wound tight, straining against his restraint, which crumbles with his next sentence.

“I need to… see you,” he grunts. “See what I’m doing to you, pretty girl.”

Before you can think, his trembling hand hooks your panties aside. The choked sound he makes at the sight of your glistening, swollen pussy, goes straight to your core, then he’s slamming his still-clothed cock right over your directly exposed wetness.

His hips lose rhythm, jerking wildly in a desperate, uncoordinated rut. His cock throbs violently in his boxers, chasing a release he can’t hold back. The friction is filthy, intoxicating, your whimpers mixing with his wrecked moans. 

“So beautiful…” he murmurs, eyes fluttering shut.  “God, you’re so beautiful, honey.”

The most captivating sounds spill from Caleb’s lungs, a mix of whimpers and guttural moans as a sudden warmth blooms and soaks the material of his boxers, seeping out onto your puffy core. He collapses forward, breathing ragged against your ear.

“Did you just–”

“Mhmm…” he hums, voice shaky but completely unashamed. “All in my boxers. I couldn’t help it.”

You huff a gentle laugh, still trembling with want, thighs slick and aching. “Wanna do it inside me now?” 

✮⋆˙— sylus

Your bare feet pad into your shared bedroom, steam spilling out behind you and curling along the ceiling like a lingering sigh. Droplets cling to your skin, sliding down the curve of your throat and between your breasts before disappearing beneath the collar of your robe. You tug the fabric tighter, shifting your hips as the restless heat returns low in your belly.

The bath had meant to ease the tension that haunted you all day, yet all it’s done is make you more aware of it.

To your surprise, Sylus sits propped up against the headboard in nothing but a pair of black pajama pants, glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, a book open in his hand. He must have returned home while you were submerged. 

The second you step into the room, his gaze lifts slowly and pins you in place. The pupils in his eyes widen, something soft but hungry in his gaze. 

He knows exactly what today is. 

“Come here,” he says sweetly, patting the mattress beside him.

You oblige without hesitation, climbing onto the bed and crawling up the sheets before flopping onto your stomach with a muffled groan. The cool fabric against your flushed skin makes you shiver. 

“You didn’t enjoy your bath?” he hums, palm gliding over your robe-clad back in slow, soothing passes that only only makes the ache worse. 

“No, I did,” you mumble into the pillow. “I’m just…” your voice trails off, embarrassment tangling your tongue. The words feel too exposed, even to your husband. 

“I know.” His tone drops, husky and threaded with quiet amusement. “You’re so warm.”

The mattress dips as he shifts to settle behind you. Strong fingers slip to your front to find the tie of your robe and loosen it, peeling the damp silk from your shoulders. His lips follow the path of exposed skin, pressing hot, lingering kisses along your shoulder blades. 

“You even smell sweet today,” he murmurs against your skin.

Heat floods all over again, a slick gush seeping from your sweet hole and onto the mattress. A quiet whimper slips free as you lift your hips, brushing your ass back against the firmness straining beneath his pajama bottoms. 

“Sylus…” you breathe. 

“Yes, kitten?” his hands slide down to your hips, thumbs kneading the soft skin. “Use your words.” 

He rolls his hips forward in a slow grind, letting you feel the heavy weight of him exactly where you’re aching most.

“I need you…” you whimper, voice small. 

Sylus smirks, peppering kisses just beneath your ear. “And why do you need me?”

You're grateful your face is buried in the mattress because your cheeks burn instantly. His teasing is gentle, but relentless–he wants to hear it.  

“Because…” you swallow. “you know… ‘m ovulating.”

Sylus groans as he presses his cock deeper against you. Your robe is peeled down your arms, the silk whispering against your skin as it gives way before it’s tossed aside. Cool air kisses your heated skin, replaced quickly by the warmth of his body hovering over yours.

“Is that so, kitten?” his hands trails down your bare back, fingers tracing every dip of your spine. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”

“Please.”

A kiss is pressed to your head before he lifts himself long enough to push his pajamas down. You feel him a second later, the gentle tap of his cock once against your ass, a bead of precum smearing onto your skin. The sensation makes you shudder, hips instinctively pressing back for more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with admiration as his hands spread over your lower back, keeping you still. “You’re so wet for me.”

His cock drags slowly between your slick folds, the glide torturously slow. You can feel every vein, every pulse, your pussy clenching around nothing as he coats himself in your arousal. Praise falls from his lips in soft murmurs—good girl… so sweet… so ready for me—each word sending another wave of heat through you.

When he finally lines himself up and begins to push inside, it's agonizingly slow. Sylus wants you to feel every stretch until you’re gasping into the sheets, fingers curling into the favor. His hand rubs soothing circles into your hip while his forehead presses between your shoulder blades.

At first, it’s gentle. Deep, steady thrusts rock your body forward, the headboard tapping the wall in rhythm. But your soft, broken mewls and the way you push back against him, smearing your slick heat across his abdomen, wears down that compose.

Fingers dig into your hips, tightening until you’re certain the marks will linger. The pace quickens, each thrust landing harder than the last, the quiet room filling with the wet sounds of skin meeting skin and the desperate hitch of your cries. He has you exactly where he wants you. 

Well, almost. 

His arm snakes around your waist while his other hand splays possessively across the top of your spine. The weight of him forces your body into a deep, supplicating arch that maximizes the depth.

There.

He grunts a low, satisfied sound as your walls flutter around him in reply to the new angle. “You like that, sweetheart?”

A round of sharp, breathless inhales answers his question. “Y-yes–hicc–y-yes!”

His hips surge forward violently at the sweet sound, losing any remaining gentleness.

“I’m so deep like this, kitten,” he gasps, each word punctuated by the heavy slam of his cock driving into you again and again. “Could stuff you so full right now…”

A needy whine spills from you, drool dampening the pillow as pleasure muddles coherent thoughts. “C-Could you n-now?” The question tumbles out with a desperate sincerity between gasps.

Sylus leans forward, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “I could. And you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

A shudder runs down your spine as he pulls you upright against him, your back flushed to his chest. Your head falls onto his shoulder, baring your throat. He takes immediate advantage, slowing his frantic rhythm to deep, punishing thrusts that make your toes curl while his lips work at the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking dark love bites onto the supple skin. 

“You’re already so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with affection as he drags himself out to the tip before slamming back in, forcing a sob from your lips. “Imagine how beautiful you’d be swollen with me right—”

His hand slides from your waist to your stomach, palm spreading wide as his fingers splay possessively over the skin there.

“—here.”

Your eyes flutter shut as the image floods your mind—round and full of him. The thought alone makes your pussy clench, slickness leaking down his length in a fresh rush. 

“Oh, you’d let me, wouldn’t you, kitten?” His hand glides upward, fingers curling around your jaw, firm but tender as he tilts your face back towards his. He needs to see you, need to see the honesty in your eyes. “You’d let me fuck a baby into you?”

The words ignite something molten in your core, spewing a string of moans from your lips. Your gaze locks with his, and the seriousness in his expression steals what little breath you have left. 

His grip on your jaw tightens just enough to keep your focus as his thrusts pick up again. “Words. Use them.”

“Y-Yes,” you sputter.

“Yes what, sweetheart?”

“Yes I’d l-let you—hah!—fuck a b-baby into me, Sy!”

A strangled growl tears from his throat. Your answer unlocks something feral in him. His pace turns ruthless, ramming his cock into you with one intention.

“Gonna fuck you so full, sweetie,” he promises hoarsely. “I’ll make sure it—nngh—takes.”

He’s already throbbing inside you, completely captivated by the sheer thought of getting you pregnant. His lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss, swallowing your moans as his movements grow sloppy with need. With a groan that rumbles through both of you, his tip slams against your soft cervix, releasing hot pulses of his seed. He doesn’t stop, rolling his hips in slow thrusts to ensure it took. 

When he finally stills, he rests his sweaty forehead against yours, a dazed smile tugging at his lips. 

“We have to ensure it takes, kitten,” in a smooth motion he flips you both, letting you sit atop him. “Show me how badly you want it.”  

✮⋆˙— zayne

You watch the clock tick past, the small hand resting on the hour, officially signaling that Zayne is off shift.

Unfortunately, he still won’t be home for at least another hour. Judging by his lack of reply to your texts, there’s probably mountains of paperwork, last-minute calls, and traffic standing between him and this house. You’ll be lucky if you see him before nightfall.

You groan, slumping against the edge of the bed, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. The one day you really need Zayne, and he’s nowhere in sight.

Your body aches with need, each pulse a reminder that ovulation has turned you feral. Heat blooms in your lower belly, soaking your panties, and you can't stop pressing your thighs together to try and relieve it. 

Your gaze flicks to the mirror. Your reflection stares back with flushed cheeks. You bite your lip and glance at the clock again. There is a solution. 

Zayne will probably be exhausted when he gets home. If you take care of yourself now, you can tend to him later. 

Fuck it. 

With zero ceremony, you kick off your shorts, the fabric of your soaked panties clinging to your pussy. Your cheeks burn an even deeper crimson as you push them down, peeling away the damp material and leaving your lower half exposed to the reflective glass. 

Desperation makes your movements sloppy. Your fingers dip inside your dripping cunt, index and middle finger instantly slick with your need. You twitch as they withdraw, then drag up to twirl them in gentle circles over your swollen clit, shivering at the surge of pleasure. 

A tiny moan escapes your lips, high and breathless. It's been a while since you’ve touched yourself solo—because you usually have Zayne. But tonight, he’s just an image in your head, and that thought alone is enough to make you squirm. 

You mimic his touch, spreading your folds and teasing your swollen bud just like he would. Stop. Start. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the delicious burning building in your core. 

“Z-Zaynie…” you whimper to the air, eyes flicking to your reflection, watching your pussy flutter around what would be his cock if he were here. Your thighs threaten to slam together, but you force them apart. 

You lose yourself in the sensation of your fingers' newfound rhythm. Pressure builds, threatening to boil over the edge. Your breath catches, lips parting in moans that are muffled but urgent. 

And then—

Your eyes snap open and they aren’t just seeing you in the mirror. Zayne is in the doorway, tie loosened from work. His expression is unreadable, but dangerously hungry. His arms are crossed, like he’s trying to seem annoyed—but you know that look. He’s definitely turned on and fully amused by your shame. 

“Shit—mmgh—Zayne—!” you squeak, yanking your hand back and slamming your thighs together as if that could hide the evidence of your crime. 

He steps in slowly, never breaking eye contact as he sets his glasses on the nightstand. 

“It’s not—” you start, then stop, as you realize it is. “I’m sorry, I just… ugh.” You bury your face in your hands, cheeks burning hotter than ever. 

“There’s no need to be ashamed,” he says evenly, taking a single step in the room. “Continue.”

You glance at him, confused. “But Zayne—“

“Did I misspeak?” His voice is unnervingly calm. 

“N-No,” you stammer. “B-But I don’t understand. I only did it because you weren’t here, and now that you are—”

“That doesn’t change anything.” He interrupts, voice low and commanding. “You were doing it when I wasn’t here. You couldn’t wait. So go ahead. Finish without my help, just like you intended all along.”

A shiver runs through you. His words are cold, but utterly thrilling. You stare at him, searching for a crack in his expression that isn’t there. 

Swallowing your embarrassment, you part your thighs again and place your hand back between your legs. The time you look at him—not at the mirror—as your fingers slide inside yourself. Your slick folds glisten under the bedroom light, fully displayed for him, yet he doesn’t even look. Zayne moves around the room, loosening his cuffs, rolling his shoulders, and going about his normal post-shift like you’re not bare and dripping a few feet away. 

The normalcy of it makes your stomach twist. He’s doing it on purpose, and every second he doesn’t look is a silent command to keep going. 

So, you continue. The pressure builds, unbearable now, and you bite your cheek to hold back a moan. “Zayne…” you pant, eyes fluttering shut as you buck helplessly into your own hand.

Before you can register it, he’s crouched beside you. His presence is sudden, the faint scent of soap and hospital antiseptic clinging to his skin. When his voice comes, it’s soft, but firm. “Are you going to come?”

You nod, breath hitching, unable to answer. His hand darts out, cradling your jaw, thumb pressing into your cheek as he tilts your face towards the mirror.

“Watch.”

You whimper, locking onto your reflection in the glass. Your fingers move of their own accord, gliding across your puffy clit as you push yourself over the edge. Your body trembles and tips sideways, instinctively leaning against him as the waves roll through you. 

But he isn’t done with you. 

You can’t even fully recover, because suddenly he’s pushing off his pants, his cock springing free before he’s settling in right behind you. One hand tugs greedily at your shirt, dragging the fabric up and off so your tits spring free, nipples tightening instantly in the cool air at the heat of his stare in the mirror. 

“C’mon,” he orders quietly, fingers digging into your hips as he guides you back. “Ride me.” 

You flush as you move to hover over him, still sensitive from your release. The reddened tip of his cock nudges against your entrance, smearing the sticky precum as you line him up with shaky hands. 

“You get so needy when you’re ovulating,” he murmurs, amusement threading through the lust as he fixates where you will be joined. His hips raise once to poke your entrance in impatience. 

“H-How do you–”

He chuckles under his breath, nipping your shoulder. One hand slides up your side to pinch your perked nipple, then swipe the bud of his thumb over it to soothe the sting. “You think I don't know my sweet girl?” 

You whine and shake your head before you sink slowly onto his length, a lewd moan spilling free as the stretch makes your thighs tremble all over again.

But the pace is too slow for Zayne. His fingers flex, then grip your hips and pull you down until you're seated flush against him, his swollen tip nudging your cervix.

“Is it better than your fingers, love?” he asks, lips brushing the curve of your spine as his hand smooths up your back, pressing lazy kisses against the overheated skin. 

“Mmm, y-yes. F-Fuck, yes,” you whimper, rolling your hips while your eyes stay glued to the mirror. Your breasts bounce with every motion, your juices slicking his pelvis. The obscene intimacy of watching yourself take him making your stomach flutter. 

A breathy, almost strained groan slips from him. Zayne’s grip tightens, just shy of rough, as his thumbs dig into the soft flesh of your lower back.

“That’s it… look at you,” he mutters, voice dipping darker, a little mocking. His cock twitches inside you as he leans in, lips grazing your ear. “I love how you feel like this. When your body’s begging for me.”

You clench at the words and ride him harder, chasing the friction. The mirror shows everything—your flushed face, his hungry eyes, the way he watches you fall apart for him.

“Next time,” he groans, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts, never once breaking eye contact with your reflection. “You’ll wait for me.” His hand slides up to your throat, not squeezing, just holding. “Or at least send me a picture. Understood?”

Your pussy throbs in time with your heart, moans punching out from each snap of your hips colliding. “Y-Yes! I understand—!” 

“Good. Now come for me again.” 

✮⋆˙— xavier

Your eyelids flutter to the barely-there presses of his lips. 

It starts on your cheek, then trails to your jaw. You keep your eyes closed as he buries his nose into your neck, inhaling your scent before peppering a few more kisses along the sensitive line beneath your ear. His breath is warm and uneven as he savors you before you fully wake. 

Your body reacts subconsciously, shifting closer to him and giving a tiny shiver at the affection so early in the morning. If you had to guess, the sun hasn’t even risen. The world feels dim and soft, wrapped in the stillness.

You’re aware you lie on your side. Of the weight of the comforter. Of the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back. 

You’re also aware of his stiffness pressing against you—but it floats through your mind like a distant thought, something you register without fully grasping. 

“Good morning, angel.” Xavier’s voice is a hoarse rasp near your ear, signaling that he too just woke. His hips subtly shift, pressing him more firmly against you before he exhales. “You can go back to sleep, lovely.” 

You hum in reply, still drifting. His hand glides down the curve of your waist, slow and absentminded at first, like he’s memorizing the shape of your curves. The touch keeps you suspended in the blissful space between dreaming and reality—where every sensation feels warmer, heavier, and sweeter. 

You almost sink back under. Until his kisses don't stop. 

They linger longer now, and his fingers toy with the hem of your waistband as if testing whether you’ll stir. You inhale softly, something incoherent slipping from your lips when his warm hand slips beneath the fabric, his palm settling on your abdomen. His thumb traces patterns that send quiet sparks up your spine, each pass making your thighs tighten just a fraction more. 

You should wake. You should turn and face him, acknowledge the warmth that you are suddenly very aware is pooling in your panties—and fast. But you're so comfortable, so pliant against him, letting his touch wander while your thoughts drift like mist. 

“Do you know what today is?” Xavier murmurs, breaking through the haze.

Your blink your eyes open slowly, the dim room slowly taking shape in blurred outlines. You search your memory, but nothing important surfaces. Only the steady rhythm of his breathing and the way his hand stills, waiting. 

But your body seems to know before your mind does. There's a heightened sensitivity humming under your skin, every brush of his fingers sending a ripple through you that feels unfairly intense for how half-asleep you still are. 

Oh.

“It’s a good thing,” he continues softly, his words threaded with a gentle hunger. He finds the hem of your panties, gently rubbing the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re extra sweet today… softer. Smell so good…”

Heat creeps into your cheeks even in your drowsiness, and your legs part slightly without conscious thought. The small movement draws a low breath from him, a quiet surrender to how much he wants you. His forehead rests against your shoulder as his hand dips beneath your panties. 

He finds you wet and murmurs out grateful praises into your skin, kissing you again and again like he can't help himself. His fingers instantly begin a gentle dance against your clit, making you arch back into him with a soft, sleepy moan. 

“I saw the calendar… that cute little app,” he pinches your bud softly, soothing the action with slow passes of his fingertip. “So you’re super sensitive for me. Especially in the morning.” 

You whimper, clutching your pillow as you let breathless sounds slip free, your body melting into the pleasure despite how foggy your mind still feels. Even though his touch only abandons you for a second, a needy whine escapes your throat. He pushes your pants and panties down just enough, the material pooling at your ankles. 

“Just stay where you are, star,” he says softly as the warmth of his body leaves yours. 

Xavier trails a path of wet kiss along the back of your thighs, unhurried and worshipful. You shudder but stay curled like he asked, fingers tightening in the sheets. When he reaches your pussy, finding it dripping and open, he lets his warm breath ghost over you first, making your hips twitch.

He inhales deeply, his hips shifting mindlessly against the mattress at your sweet scent. He doesn’t wait another second before his mouth finds you.

You grasp a handful of blonde hair, whining as his tongue licks a stripe from your entrance upwards, then settles to circle your clit. He continues to lap at your heat, devouring how syrupy you are today, sucking you into his mouth and burying his face deep between your thighs like he never wants to come up for air. 

“Feels s-so good, Xavi…” you moan, trembling. 

Your orgasm is already hovering. He groans against you, one hand gripping your ass, kneading the skin encouragingly. Each swipe of his tongue is a silent plea.

Come for me. Let me taste you. Let me make you feel good. 

You break seconds after, squirming against the sheets as pleasure takes over you in warm waves. Pants leave your lips as he doesn't let up, his mouth relentlessly working you through the euphoric waves, and long after they pass. His face is sticky with your cum, dripping down his chin, making him look as if he’s the one who just finished. 

“B-Babe–” you cry out, trying weakly to push his head back. “Honey… ‘s too much…”

He presses one last lingering kiss to your puffy pussy before finally lifting his head. His cheeks are flushed, blue eyes dark and thoroughly satisfied. “Sorry,” he breathes, brushing his thumb along your thigh. “I couldn’t help myself.”

His hands are gentle as they turn you from your side onto your back. Your gaze drifts downward, catching the darkened patch of precum blooming against the front of his tented sweatpants. The sight sends a fresh pulse of heat through your still-sensitive body. 

He follows your gaze before palming himself through the fabric. 

“Think you can handle a bit more for me?”

✮⋆˙— rafayel

The car ride was silent. 

You knew you’d pushed Rafayel’s buttons a little too far at his gala tonight. But honestly… could he even blame you? 

He’d shown up dressed like sin in one of his sharpest suits, hair styled to perfection, eyes gleaming the entire duration of the exhibit. And all of it—all of it—on the exact day you were ovulating. 

Of course you were going to touch him.

Of course you were going to kiss him. 

Of course you were going to corner him beside a marble sculpture and slide your hand a little too low.

“Raaffff,” you drawl into the thick quiet of the car, leaning over the console with a pout that’s half apology, half provocation. “C’mon. Please don’t be mad. I said I’m sorry!”

Rafayel’s brows turn downwards, but there's a sparkle behind the annoyance. “Sorry for kissing my neck while I was speaking to that artist,” he replies coolly, “or sorry for grabbing my dick before I had to greet the commissioner?”

You smirk, entirely unrepentant. “Both. And you liked it! You were hard when I touched you.”

He scoffs, but the sound melts into a quiet laugh under his breath. He isn’t mad, he never really is, and when you poke his side to confirm, he squirms just enough to betray himself. The twitch at the corner of his lips is your victory flag.

You think you’ve won.

That is, until you get home. 

The moment the door clicks shut behind you, he moves. There's no warning. One second you’re toeing off your heels, the next his arms are around you, sweeping you up bridal-style. A startled laugh leaves you as he carries you down the hall, his hold possessive and unhurried. 

His lips find yours before you reach the bed, and they are soft but insistent, pulling quiet gasps from your chest. The heat that’s been simmering in your belly all day flares hotter, burning brighter. 

You land against the mattress with a muted thud, sheets cool beneath your back. “Undress,” he tells you, already slipping open the button of his shirt with graceful fingers. 

You obey immediately, giggling as you shimmy out of your dress, fabric clinging to your hips before you kick it away. Anticipation hums under your skin like static. 

Rafayel, meanwhile, is still mostly dressed. His shirt hangs open just enough to reveal his toned skin, a teasing glimpse of chest that makes your fingers itch for a touch. You reach for him instinctively, only for his hand to close around your wrist mid-air and guide it back to the mattress, pinning you there.  

“Raf–”

“Do you really think I’m going to let you have your way after tonight?” His voice is playful, smug, and dripping with amusement. The smirk he gives you is pure trouble. “You’re so cute.” 

You squirm, a fresh gush of warmth gathering between your thighs. “But… I said ‘m sorry.”

“Oh, I know you did, cutie,” he hums, leaning down to brush a single kiss against your cheek. Then your jaw. The column of your throat. Each one is soft and savoring.

“So then…” you mumble, tilting your neck to give him more space. “Why are you still dressed?”

His lips curve against your skin as he trails lower, the  gentle presses of his lips turning wetter, slower. Goosebumps rise across your body when his hands find your thighs, and ease them open for him. 

He pauses, eyes settling on the soaked material clinging to you. His thumb presses against it, just once. You squeak, and arch into his hand, sensitivity dialed painfully high today. He chuckles, rubbing your pussy through the panties in lazy strokes, up and down, just enough to make you ache. 

“I’m going to take care of you,” he coos, but his eyes are dark. “But you teased me all night… so I’m getting my revenge.”

You gasp when his thumb circles firm over your swollen clit through the fabric. The friction is electric and not enough all at once. 

“Raf… please, this isn’t fair,” you whine.

“Not fair?” he juts his lip in a mock pout. “I didn’t think it was very fair when you were handsy in public.”

Before you can argue, he hooks a finger under your panties and slides them aside, revealing your dripping cunt. He huffs in amusement, admiring the slick evidence of your arousal like its art he curated himself. (He did)

His finger drags through your folds, collecting the sticky mess. He spreads you open, glides over your clit, circles your entrance, but never lingers enough to satisfy. 

Your thighs twitch. Your hips lift. Your fingers clutch the comforter.

It’s torture. Sweet, earned, torture. 

And just as a complaint forms on your lips, his fingertip settles over your clit and begins slow, gentle circles. Pleasure sparks outward, instantly bowing your back and spewing moans from your lips. Every sensation feels amplified. 

“R-Raf… Raf, fuck—baby,” you cry, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, winding tighter and tighter. 

Rafayel laughs softly, continuing to play with your pussy, admiring how much more wetness gathers at his touch. “You close, cutie? Gonna come?” 

You nod in rapid succession. “Y-Yes…yeah ‘m gonna—“

His fingers stop. 

The sudden absence makes you gasp, blinking your eyes open “W-Why did you stop?”

He lifts his gaze to yours, expression all polished mischief and arrogance. His thumb is still resting maddeningly close to where you’re throbbing. “Did you really think I was going to let you come?” 

Your frustrated whine only makes his smile widen. He leans down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, taunting kiss. 

“After the way you behaved tonight?” he murmurs against your mouth. “You’re going to beg for it.”

His fingers return before you can even form a reply, and they're faster this time. The slick sounds of how wet you are fills the room. What started as gentle coaxing turns into purposeful rubbing that makes you fist the sheets and sob out. When your legs try to close, he simply prises them back open. 

“You want it so bad, don’t you?” he whispers. “All worked up and needy… yet you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.” His thumb presses just right, drawing a broken sound from your throat. 

“I do… f-fuck I really do…” you whimper, hips chasing him without shame. The pressure builds once again, and just as the waves begin to crest, he stops. 

The absence is devastating. His words following are cruel. 

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, brushing his slick finger against your thigh. His cock strains against his pants, a visible twitch he pointedly ignores as he keeps his attention on you. “You’re soaking our sheets.” 

You lie there in the heat of it, trying to gather yourself. When your heartbeat finally slows enough to think, he starts over. Fingers dragging through your warmth, starting slow, then faster. Each time he brings you near the edge, letting desperate cries and whimpers that you’re close spill from your lips, he stops again.

By the fourth time, tears sting the corners of your eyes. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, pleas dissolving into half-formed syllables that barely resemble words.  

“R-Raf… p-plea–suh–ahh–” his fingers slide into your gummy walls. 

“Think you’ve been good enough?”

“Y-Yea–mmgh–yes–!” 

He exhales through his nose, finally satisfied. His fingers curl to your sweet spot, and this this they don’t pull away. 

“Fine,” he mumbles. “You can come.” 

Mark fucking Lee and his lovely cheekbones and his soft round eyes and the way they crinkle when he smiles at you. Mark Lee and his pretty hands and the way they feel on your skin. Sometimes gentle, other times not. Everything about him really. It’s all encarved in your brain. How he speaks, how he laughs, the faces he makes when he’s deeply immersed in a conversation. All fascinating and infuriating at the same time.

He’s your first thought when you wake up and your last before you fall asleep. It’s fucking annoying. You’re not supposed to lose sleep because of another individual. Let alone a man. But, for Mark, you really are losing hours of sleep. Every night. Whether he’s in the bed next to you or not. But mostly when he’s not. Because you — no, you can’t miss him. You’re simply just so used to his presence that it’s difficult to sleep alone. Surely, that’s it. A habit and nothing more. Hopefully, if you keep repeating the word in your head, you’ll eventually convince yourself.

It’s just a uni fling. Soon you’ll be graduating and you’ll probably never see each other again. It’s how these things work. Right?

You’re on the phone to Jaemin when your phone buzzes.

Marklee: 2 mins away x

“Alright, Jaem, I have to go.” You interrupt your friend’s rambling.

“Awh, I was just getting to the good part.” He complains with a whine.

“You can tell me tomorrow after class. Although, so far it sounds like she’s in the right.”

“Boooo! I knew I should’ve called Rina instead.” He exclaims frustratingly.

“You do know me and Karina share one brain cell right?” You exhale as you lazily get up from the blanket cocoon you’ve created on your small sofa.

“Was that your doorbell?” Jaemin inquires with a hint of insinuation.

You buzz Mark in, trying your best to sound as unbothered as you can. “Twas indeed.”

“I thought you were having a night in.” Jaemin teases and you can hear the smirk.

“I am having a night in.” You respond casually.

“Mmmm, just not alone.”

“It could be take-out, you know.” You defend as you open your apartment door the second Mark exits the building lift.

Jaemin utters something indistinct over the phone. You’re too busy checking Mark out as he approaches you with a sweet smile. His duffle bag hangs off his shoulder, navy blue oversized jumper hugging his broad shoulders just right, grey sweatpants a little too baggy but stylish as always. You can tell he’s come straight from basketball practice. His hair a little damp still, making him look sexier than ever. You’re about to convulse when you realise it’s shorter than last time you saw him.

You remember him saying he had a haircut appointment a couple days ago, but you didn’t expect much of a difference. And you certainly didn’t expect a fucking undercut.

“Yo.” Mark whispers, clearly having noticed you’re on the phone and you make room so he can slip inside your apartment before shutting the door behind you.

You observe him as he drops his bag on the floor and discards his shoes next to yours like it’s his norm. It might as well be at this point.

“Hellooo? Are you still there?” Jaemin’s obnoxiously loud voice interrupts your gawking session.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Wait! Is Mark there? Can you ask him for his opinion? Should I apologise or—“

“Kay, bye, Jaem.” You hang up before your friend can get another word in, too distracted to actually listen to more of his ranting.

You turn your attention to Mark again and this time he’s already got his eyes on you as he casually leans against the back of the sofa with a small smile adorning his pretty face. Before you can apologise for being on the phone, Mark’s arms open, welcoming you as you eagerly slot yourself in his embrace, phone tossed on the sofa behind him.

“Hi.” He mumbles in your hair and you sigh in relief as his familiar scent surrounds you.

“Hi, Markie.” You coo in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his middle as his squeeze around your shoulders. You can’t help but smile when he rocks you gently from side to side.

“Miss me?” He asks softly and something tightens in your chest.

You should dismiss it, say something lighthearted, but your mouth utters the words before your brain can filter them. “So much.”

His light chuckle vibrates through his chest, calming you a little, telling you he likes your forward response, even if accidental.

“Did you?” He feigns disbelief with a little gasp.

You feel the heat creeping up on your cheeks and you mentally thank his chest for shielding your face. “Shut up.”

“Aw c’mon.” He shakes you playfully. “I missed you too.”

The little statement is whispered close to your ear and you can’t help but look up at him this time. Chin resting on his chest as he loosens his hold around you just a little.

“What?” He asks with a smile as you take in his shorter hair again. So handsome.

“You look good.”

His bashful grin as he lightly ruffles his hair with one hand makes the butterflies in your stomach cause havoc. “You dig the undercut then?”

“Oh I dig it alright.” You poke his sides lightly as you stand on your tippy toes, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek.

He doesn’t let you back away more than a couple of inches before grabbing the back of your neck and surprising you with his lips on yours. It’s light at first. Gentle. Almost innocent. And you barely have time to kiss him back when he’s about to pull away. So you don’t let him. You chase him with a pathetic whine instead.

“Cute.” He breathes, laughing softly against your lips before finally giving in.

Your hands remain at his sides, bracing onto his jumper, searching for some sort of support as he holds both sides of your face, fingers slipping into your hair, thumbs stroking your cheekbones a little too carefully, lips dragging against yours with more precision now. You’ve only exchanged a few words since he came through the door, yet his tongue is in your mouth as though it belongs there, deeming you helpless, giving you no choice but to slacken your jaw pliantly, giving him room to explore and taste and lick as he pleases. And he does so with no hesitation.

A very audible whimper rolls out of you as he tilts your head to the side, his tongue gliding against yours savouringly, giving you what you’ve been craving for a whole week. He lets out a satisfied hum in exchange, and you feel it in your spine, making you shiver in delight as your clit pulses. This is fucking ridiculous. A kiss is not supposed to make you feel so weak. So unsteady but safe at the same time.

“Mh—Mark.” You try to get his attention but it comes out more like a muffled plea and he kisses you harder. Filthier.

It’s so messy, you’re pretty sure there’s drool on your chin. Kiss so wet with the amount of saliva you’re exchanging he might as well spit in your mouth. You can’t help but moan at the disgustingly crude thought, feeling almost embarrassed knowing that you’d happily swallow.

You’re suddenly very aware of the gush of slick that drips from your entrance, making a mess between your legs, and that’s when you put your hands on his chest, lightly pushing him away, needing to break the kiss in order to collect your thoughts but also breathe.

He reluctantly obliges after leaving two quicker smooches on your already abused lips, sucking on the bottom one briefly just to get a whine of protest out of you.

“Oops.” He says teasingly as he eyes you suggestively, hands dropping to your hips momentarily, before sneaking to your ass, shamelessly squeezing over your jeans. “Got carried away.”

You lightly swat at his chest in fake warning, forcing a cute snicker out of him, which makes a smile break out on your face. You’re so aware of it, your cheeks hurt.

“I need to shower.” You mutter breathlessly.

“Is that an invitation?” He asks a little too eagerly. Almost too adorable to resist.

“Actually, no.” You pout and he mimics your expression. “Sorry, I need some girly time.”

He furrows his eyebrows in genuine curiosity. “As in, like, you need to finger yourself in the shower or…?”

“No, you moron.” You shove your hand in his face, pushing him backwards. “As in shave and moisturise.”

“Ohhh.” He leans his head back in realisation before looking back at you with a mischievous grin. “My version sounds more fun though.”

He’s rather playful tonight. Slightly more than usual, and you can’t help but want to play along with him.

“Maybe I’ll indulge then.” You say skeptically as you let your hands travel down his torso, eyes still fixed on his curious ones. “Maybe I should just finger myself in the shower while you sit here and wait for me like good little boy.”

His lips part slightly as his expression becomes more serious than ever. No shock, just conflict maybe.

“Or maybe you’d prefer it if I dragged you in there with me and made you watch, hm?” Your tone is demanding as your hands reach his waistband, fingers barely slipping inside before going past it.

His breathing contrasts his still composed expression. He lets out a little gasp, hands squeezing your ass a little harder when your palm brushes over the prominent bulge pressing against your front. Still no words leaving his mouth, but his jaw flexing speaks volumes. He’s trying to compose himself. Very clearly refusing to break. To give into your teasing. How admirable.

“Does that still sound fun?” You push with an innocent smile, making sure to flutter your eyelashes while you press the heel of your palm against his tip, making sure to rub a little. Stubbornly testing his limits, wanting to see how far he’ll let you go.

Something shifts behind his eyes. You see it. For a fraction of a second before it’s gone again. It’s almost scary, making you regret your antics. But then he smiles. Nothing sinister behind it, just a simple gesture. Sweet. And then he leans a little closer, the tip of his nose touching yours. Sweet again. And just when you think he’s about to kiss you, a hand in your hair catches you off guard, pulling harshly, setting your scalp on fire, making you blink in shock. And, god, the girlish squeal you let out is truly humiliating.

You feel his breath on your ear when he speaks.

“So, the thing is…” He pauses for a moment. Chills run down your spine at the sudden change in his demeanour and all you can do is swallow the dryness in your throat and hold onto his jumper like a lifeline as he starts to walk you backwards. 

You yelp when your back touches what you assume is the aisle that separates the kitchen from your tiny living room space. 

“I’ve had a long fucking day,” He continues as he nuzzles against your neck and his other hand comes to wrap around it. Not so sweet this time, but your eyes shut in pleasure nevertheless, the press of his fingers on your pulse points making you feel lightheaded. 

This is sick. And hot. But mostly sick. 

“And silly me, the one thing I was looking forward to, was seeing you,” Both his hands tighten slightly, driving your heart rate through the roof. “But now, I’m kind of pissed off.”

Fuck.

“So, you’ve got two options.”

“Mark, I was j—“

“Don’t interrupt me.” He squeezes harder, very close to suffocating you before releasing slightly. You don’t complain. Just hold onto him tighter as you wait for him to speak again.

Patience is a virtue. Apparently.

“Number one.” A little kiss is placed on your cheek. A little too delicate for a situation like this, but it comforts you. “You take a five-minute shower, ten tops, and then you come out and we have our fun.”

“But—“

“Number two.” He ignores you, his thigh forcing itself between your legs as a warning. You go mute again. “I fuck you now. Quick. Maybe you cum, maybe you don’t. You have your long girly shower, finger yourself for all I care, but I’m going to sleep.”

He slowly releases you after that and you gasp a little too loudly, instinctively bringing a hand around your own neck, where he was just touching you. You don’t know why. Maybe to make sure this is actually happening? Because what the actual fuck. The man has simply lost it.

In the three months you’ve been hanging out with Mark, you believe you’ve gotten to know him on a decent level. Intimately and not. You don’t even know how many nights (or mornings) you’ve spent together, let alone how many times you’ve fucked. Initially, you were keeping track of the times he made you cum, but when you reached thirty-something, you just gave up. 

And it’s not like he’s some kind of perverted sex god. Yes, he’s the best you’ve had, but only because he pays attention. He asks what you like. Listens. Observes. Doesn’t push boundaries unless you make clear that you want him to. Even then, he’s careful. Not necessarily gentle. Just careful. There’s always been an untouched territory you can’t really name or place.

He’s never indulged in leaving any marks on you. He’s never acted possessive or jealous. Maybe a few glances here and there when guys would approach you on a night out, but nothing major. People know you two are somewhat inseparable now. Your friends know your…situation. His certainly do too, having witnessed plenty of your drunken make-out sessions in bars, clubs, parties. 

Poor Chenle found out in the worst way possible. House party. Bathroom. Chenle trying to sober up in the bathtub. Shower curtain drawn. Mark bending you over whatever surface was somewhat clean. Chenle screaming something incoherent to make his presence known before anything too incriminating actually took place. It was hilarious, but you’re pretty sure the younger boy is scarred for life. His blush appearing every time he bumps into you certainly gives away that much.

Yes, sex with Mark has always been too good. Exciting, sensual, hot, messy, maybe even a little too passionate at times. You’ve tried many positions. Experimented at times. Your vibrator got involved others. But you’ve usually been the one to initiate different things. Not that he’s shy. You know he’s not. He just happens to need a push sometimes, or at least confirmation that you’re comfortable.

So, him hitting you with the dominant card tonight, is definitely something you did not expect. Pleasant undoubtedly. Just unexpected. And you wonder what has actually triggered it, because it can’t have been just your teasing. You tease him almost all the time. He’s either reached some sort of pinnacle and had enough of your shit or there’s some underlying tension about something you’re unaware of.

Either way, it’s got your pussy throbbing and your brain malfunctioning.

“So, what will it be?” His low voice breaks you out of your trance, reminding you of the pressing matter at hand.

You blink up at him when you realise he’s staring down at you expectantly, and you almost flinch when he raises a hand to your face, thumb tracing your bottom lip lightly before dragging it down. You involuntarily bite down on where he touched as he brings the digit down to your chin.

“May I speak now?” You ask tentatively.

“You may.” He almost breaks character, you can tell by the little twitch of his lips, but you don’t risk teasing him again. Not now.

You relax a little as he cages you against the counter, his hands on either side of you, resting on the surface, as his warmth surrounds you again. Calmer this time. So calm you almost miss the thrilling chaos you just experienced.

“I need to wash and condition my hair, then shave and moisturise.” You move a little closer, hands desperately tightening at the collar of his jumper as he rolls his eyes dismissively. You feel like you’re begging while barely having said anything. “Markie, five minutes is not enough and I have so much on tomorrow, I won’t have enough time to—“

“I said ten tops.” He corrects. His tone a little lighter now, but his arched eyebrow shows finality. “Hair, rinse, shave, rinse again. I’ll help you moisturise after.”

You sulk childishly and you catch him biting the inside of his cheek. This motherfucker is laughing at you and you’re here trying not to have a heart attack.

“You’re bluffing. You won’t actually go to sleep.” You challenge with a pout, and the tiniest smirk makes an appearance on his face.

“Alright, bend over then—“

“Wait, no. I didn’t choose yet.” You grab onto his biceps as he’s now holding onto your hips, halting from turning you around.

“Baby, you could’ve been out the shower by now.” He whispers in your ear scoldingly, arms circling your waist now, pulling you closer.

You drop your forehead against his shoulder with a defeated sigh. You know you’re right. He won’t just go to sleep even if he fucks you now. But still, as impatient as you are, as much as you actually want him to bend you over right here, you’ve thought about him, waited to see him a whole week. You can wait a little longer.

“Option number one, please.” You really sound like a spoiled child and you hate that he’s made you act like this. It’s all his fault.

His light chuckle shakes you a little and the little tap on your bum, urges you to look up at him. “Good girl.”

You don’t have time to react to the taunting pet name. His lips touch yours in a quick peck and then he’s gone. You’re stuck on your spot as he casually drops on the sofa, pulls his phone out of his pocket and sprawls comfortably, legs spreading as he sinks into the cushions.

“Ten minutes, baby.” He reminds you, not a single glance thrown your way as he keeps scrolling.

You hear his obnoxiously cute giggle when you practically sprint for the bathroom without another peep.

True to your word, you’re back out in under ten minutes.

Barely.

Not because you rushed like some obedient little thing — absolutely not. You refused to sprint. Refused to skip steps out of principle. You conditioned properly. You shaved properly. You even stood there for a few extra seconds just to prove to yourself you weren’t scrambling for him.

But you were efficient. Strategic.

And when you step back into the living room, steam spilling lazily out of the bathroom behind you, hair still dripping in slow, shameless trails down your neck and chest, you know you made it on time.

Your towel is secure under your hands — gripped tightly at your chest, more for pride than modesty.

Mark looks up from the sofa. You hate the way his eyes drag. Not hungry. Not desperate. Not even impatient.

Measured. Like he knew you would make it.

He’s ditched the jumper. Of course he has.

He’s just in a black t-shirt now. The one that fits just right — not tight enough to show off, not loose enough to hide anything either. It clings to his arms when he pushes himself up from the couch, and you swallow before you can stop yourself.

“Eight minutes,” he says casually.

You scoff immediately. “Nine and a half.”

Because you’re not letting him shave time off your victory.

One eyebrow lifts. “Still under ten.”

The calm certainty in his voice makes something twist low in your stomach.

You’ve never felt intimidated by him before. Not once. Not when he’s had you pressed into mattresses, counters, walls. Not when he’s whispered filth into your ear or made you come undone with nothing but his hands. He’s always been careful. Attentive. Equal.

Tonight feels different. Tonight he’s steady in a way that makes you feel slightly off-balance.

And it’s exhilarating. And deeply annoying.

Since when does he have the upper hand?

He closes the distance without waiting for you to answer whatever silent challenge is sitting between you, his palm finding your waist like it belongs there. Warm. Solid. Certain.

“Counter,” he says, softer now, guiding you back into the bathroom.

You consider arguing.

You don’t. And you don’t know why. Because you normally would.

You climb up, towel still clutched tightly, the marble cool under your thighs. The mirror behind you is fogged, the bathroom light too bright against your damp skin. Your hair keeps dripping — onto

your collarbone, onto the swell of your chest, one rebellious drop sliding down to your stomach.

He steps between your knees. Like he always does. Like he always has. But tonight it feels intentional.

There’s a bottle in his hand — your body lotion — and you hate that he remembered exactly where you keep it.

You expect him to rush. To make a point. Instead, he squeezes a generous amount into his palm, rubbing his hands together slowly before touching you.

The first touch is warm. Slower than you expect.

He starts at your ankle, working the lotion into your skin with deliberate strokes. Not rushed. Not greedy. Just thorough. His thumbs press into the softest part of your calf, fingers wrapping around the back, kneading gently but firmly.

His hands have always been nice. Big enough to ground you. Rough enough to feel real.

You inhale sharply when his thumb brushes over the thin pink line on your left leg.

He stops.

His eyes flick up. “What’s this?”

You shrug, feigning indifference. “Shaved too fast.”

He hums quietly — not impressed — before smoothing more balm over it, slower now. Careful. Not as gentle as you’d expect. Just careful.

Your hair drips again, this time onto his forearm. He doesn’t move away.

His hands slide higher. Over your knee. Up your thigh. Pressing the balm in with long, steady strokes that make it very difficult to pretend you aren’t hyperaware of every inch of your own skin.

You tighten your grip on the towel when it shifts slightly as he lifts your leg to rest against his hip.

He notices. You just know he does.

“Chill dude,” he murmurs.

You don’t. “Fuck off, calling me dude right now.”

You’re not sure why you’re so pissed off. Whether it’s because you simply refuse to submit so early — or because you’re not used to being the one unraveling first.

Either way, this is all a little too much. Too much for what you thought you had signed up for. Yet the thought of stopping him feels like something you’d regret later. Simply because you don’t want to.

Yes, it’s too much. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel good. Too fucking good.

“What should I call you then?” He asks indifferently.

Hand slipping under the towel, palm massaging your inner thigh. Fingers digging into the flesh a little too hard. And when he slides further up, thumb digging into the crease that separates your thigh to where you really need him, your leg twitches slightly.

He doesn’t comment on it. And you know the graze of his knuckles against your folds is not accidental. It can’t be.

You were almost expecting him to pull something like that. You pictured it when he said he’ll help you ‘moisturise’. It’s all a fucking act and you both know it.

So why does your breath stutter?

“I don’t know.” You snap back into the conversation, trying your best to come across as unfased. “Think of something else.”

“How about…” He hums in thought as he spurts more lotion in his palm. Eyes glancing at you momentarily before reverting to his hands rubbing together. “Pookie?”

A laugh bubbles in your chest, coming out as a snort. “Be for real.”

He smirks. Hands repeating his previous actions on your other leg, caressing just right. “I am. Pookie is elite.”

You intentionally shuffle a little closer. Ass just on the edge of the counter, but his body between your legs preventing you from slipping off.

Even as you sling an arm around his shoulders, he maintains focus on his task. Unbothered. Hands massaging your thigh thoroughly.

You’ve had enough of his shit quite frankly. Patience running thin as his thumb trails closer and closer to your throbbing centre.

“Markie?” You say calmly, not really expecting him to look. And he doesn’t.

“Hm?” At least he’s listening.

“You can’t choke me and then call me pookie.” You mean for it to come out assertive, but it sounds more like a whine.

The teasing grin he sports is incredibly irritating. He doesn’t respond straight away. Too busy torturing you it seems.

He removes his hands before he can touch you where you ache this time, and you exhale in relief. Or maybe disappointment.

He thankfully moves closer. Your chests would be touching if it weren’t for your hand still gripping your towel.

He seems bothered by it. A flicker of emotion appearing on his features for what feels like the first time tonight.

“Let go.” He instructs. Nose running along the side of your face, nuzzling against your temple.

“No.” You fixate on his jaw, refusing to meet his eyes. Still, you feel his irritation.

“Let go.” He repeats. Hand wrapping around your wrist.

You resist. Stubborn. “No.”

You know why you’re doing this. He most likely does too.

You want him to break again. You hate that you do. But you can’t get the thought of him manhandling you off your mind. Bossing you around. Controlling you. Ruining you.

He doesn’t though. He instead does something that turns you on even more. He lets go of your wrist in the most dismissive manner.

“Fine.” He says calmly. “Enjoy fingering yourself.”

You feel him retreating. One step back before you link both arms around his neck, pulling him in again. Towel finally forgotten, but still in place.

“No. Markie, wait.” You plead. Pitiful.

His hands come to your sides, holding you in place and you sigh at the minimal contact. The tiny kiss left on your shoulder doesn’t help. It makes you squirm in need.

You’re positive you’re leaking on your towel. Walls throbbing uncontrollably. It’s mortifying. He’s barely done anything.

“Please.” You breathe in his neck, tits pressing against his chest, and by the way your nipples drag against the soft fabric of his t-shirt, you know the towel is no longer in the way. Just messily bunched up around your waist.

“Please what, baby?”

You moan at the intimate tone. It’s not intentional. It just slips out and you hate that he’s made you so pliant.

“Anything.” You whisper. Eyes closed in humiliation. Tomorrow you’ll be scolding yourself for giving into a man so easily. Right now, it doesn’t matter. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

You’re near tears when he buries a hand in your hair. Gentle this time. Tugging just enough to get you to look at him.

How on god’s green earth is he still so calm? You’re begging. Throbbing. Already sweating even after a shower. And he’s just looking at you.

Like he’s inspecting you. Like you’re some shiny toy he might get bored of later.

He blinks. Once. Twice. “Say you’re sorry.”

What. The. Fuck.

“What?” Your voice is trembling. You heard him. Loud and clear. You’re just having trouble understanding why your cunt clenches at the words.

This is nothing like you’ve ever experienced. Not just with him. With anyone.

“Say you’re sorry.” His grip on your hair tightens slightly as his other hand untangles the towel from your body. Regardless of your naked state, his eyes don’t leave yours.

“I’m not, though.” You choose to stand your ground one last time. It’s pointless. You know it. But you refuse to back down just to boost his ego. And it’s true. You’re not fucking sorry.

“You will be when I’m done with you.” His free hand grips your thigh, pulling you closer to the point where there’s no space between your bodies.

“I’ve got nothing to be sorry for.” You put on your best brave expression.

“That’s a lie and you know it.” His thumb strokes along your jaw until it’s on your chin and then on your lips. You obediently part them for him, tongue slipping out slightly, licking the pad of his digit. “Suit yourself."

You suck greedily. Imagining it’s his thick length penetrating your mouth, tongue swirling obscenely when he pulls out a little, before pushing back in. He repeats the action a couple times before smearing your spit on your chin.

Your eyes search for his, but he’s too busy eyeing your naked body up and down. You take advantage of his unfocussed state and quickly bring your hands to the waistband of his bottoms.

You don’t waste time.

Even as you sense the protest bubbling in him, you shove the fabric down. His flushed cock springs out proudly, pretty as always, fully hard, doing nothing but giving you the tiny boost of ego you’ve been craving all night.

He’s not that indifferent now.

The moment of pride is short lived.

Before you can react, his mouth crashes on yours, finally giving into you with an animalistic grunt. His tongue sloppily fucks into your already open mouth, giving you no choice but to try and match his chaotic rhythm. It’s not smooth or sweet. It holds force, almost making you lose your upper-body balance, and his hand slipping from your hair down to your throat, squeezing just the right amount, has you slapping a hand on the counter behind you, needing to brace yourself somehow.

You know it’s more mental than anything. You know he’s got you. His arm around your waist is holding you just fine. Yet, you need to touch something else other than him. To remind yourself that you’re not going completely insane.

You’re in your fucking bathroom, dripping on your fucking counter, whining and losing yourself because of a fucking boy that hasn’t even touched you properly yet. Because of Mark Lee.

Just because he wants you to. Simple as that.

This is his fault. Yet, he wants you to be sorry? Absolutely not.

Your fingers flex on the slippery surface of the counter, while your other hand grabs onto Mark’s hair. Pulling a little too hard. Needing to get a reaction. And you do. Just not the one you were hoping for. No desperate moan. Just a warning squeeze of his fingers on your neck. Wordlessly telling you to behave.

You feel so lightheaded, your mouth involuntarily goes slack against his, lips just brushing. Barely able to kiss him back through your laboured breaths. And when you feel a significant amount of moisture landing on your tongue and bottom lip — all messy and slippery — you have no choice but to flutter your eyes open.

“Swallow.” He whispers against your lips. And you do. With a moan that’s a little too loud for your liking. Too submissive.

You kiss him again. Refusing to stay separated for too long and you suddenly realise his top is still on. So you clumsily pull at the hem with both hands, and he complies, yanking the piece of clothing from the collar.

You don’t know where it lands. Instantly pulling him in for another messy kiss. One hand holding onto his nape — the other grabbing onto his bicep — nails digging into the skin.

You let your head loll back when he drags his lips down to your neck. It’s all so messy. So wet. He’s kissing, biting, licking, sucking hard. And it doesn’t take long for you to realise that he’s finally marking you for the first time. Just above your collarbone.

“Fuck, yes.” You hold him there. Forcing his mouth on your wet skin. Needing him to claim you in more ways than you should.

When he pulls back his eyes linger on the sore spot. His breath hitting your damp skin in hot puffs and you can’t hold back a low moan that slips on account of his stupidly pretty face.

His now shorter hair is messy. Strands flying everywhere. His eyes hooded. Gaze unfocused. Lust evident. It’s his lips that catch your attention though. Puffy — prettiest shade of deep pink — slightly parted and wet.

You lean back on both hands. Not minding a few moments to observe how handsome he looks right now.

His hands take hold of your hips, dragging you to the very edge of the counter, trapping you with his body, and you part your legs for him even further, lifting them a little to make sure he’s got full view of your pussy.

Apart from a shaky breath, there’s nothing else. Just his thumbs drawing slow circles on your hip bones.

He’s just staring up and down your naked torso. Lip chewed on by his teeth in deep contemplation.

“What?” You prod, with a subtle but still inviting roll of your hips.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About what I wanna do to you.”

You clench around nothing, hoping he can see it. The tensing of his eyebrows is just the confirmation you need. “What do you wanna do to me?”

“Not very nice things.” The point is made with his tip prodding at your sopping hole, making you throw your head back, damp hair still sticking on your skin.

“Who said I want you to be nice?” You challenge, a whine slipping out as he pushes in just a tiny bit, giving you a taste of pleasure before retracting. “Fuck.”

“You’re soaked.” He points out in awe. “It’s fucking insane.”

Another little teasing thrust, cockhead barely going in before it drags through your slit and up to your pulsing clit. “Mark—“

“Are you ovulating or something?” He grins mischievously, but you can tell he’s actually curious.

“What are you, my tracking app?” You almost choke on your spit. He’s got one hand around his cock now, flicking your clit with his tip in side-to- side motions, making your hips stutter and your legs shake.

You’re too fucking turned on. And yes, you’re also ovulating.

“Pretty sure I know your body better than a stupid little app.” He retorts, one hand coming up to play with your tits. Squeezing the flesh and pinching your nipples just right, until they’re erect, causing more arousal to flow out of you, mixing with his precum as he slowly keeps sliding his length up and down your folds, making sure the tip is always bumping into your sensitive nub.

“Yeah? Did you know I’m dying to slap you right now?” You say, with nothing but neediness laced in your tone.

He chuckles lightly. Mockingly. 

“Hmm no.” His thumb unexpectedly brushes your clit just a tiny bit, sending chills down your back, making your hips jerk and then the same thumb is prying your lips open, shoving into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself. “But I know you’re dying to get fucked silly.”

You let out a tiny whimper as you try to distract yourself with his thumb. But then it’s gone. And it’s one of your nipples that gets attention now. Breast engulfed in the warmth of his hand as he circles the hypersensitive peak with the wet pad of his thumb.

“Markie.” You nearly cry out at the stimulation. So hyperaware of every part of your body he’s touching, you nearly give in and apologise like he wants you to. Nearly. “Please put it in.”

He moans at your words, thumb returning to your clit and staying this time, flicking up and down harshly. His cock slips inside your pussy just an inch, surprising you nevertheless, the sting minimal but still there due to the lack of prep. It’s oddly pleasurable. And when he pulls out just a tiny bit with a loud squelch, and his thumb brushes against the perfect spot on your clit, you unexpectedly cum. Hard. Squeezing around his tip, sucking him in. And he yelps in surprise.

“Fuck!” You exclaim in bliss but also because he’s abruptly thrusts his whole length inside your pussy. To the hilt. Not a single inch left out. Thumb still somehow rubbing on your poor clit.

“Jesus—fuck, baby.” He pants with a grind. “Did you just cum?”

You try to form words, but all you can do is moan shakily. Your legs still quivering at the overstimulation.

“Mm—y-yes—fuck fuck fuck—Mark, s-stop!” You instinctively grab onto his wrist, forcing him to stop the abuse on your clit.

He grants you just that wish. But instantly forces another cry out of you as he grabs onto your ass, a hand cupping each cheek greedily, slightly lifting you off the counter before he starts delivering brutal thrusts. The angle exactly right for his cock to hit that spot deep inside your walls, not allowing you any time to recover from the haze of your orgasm.

It’s pure filth. All of it. Both of you. It’s rough and it’s loud and it’s mind numbing.

He’s giving you things you didn’t know you were craving. Fucking you like you owe him something he needs to forcefully take.

You glance at his face briefly. Fringe sticking to his forehead, eyebrows furrowed like he's angry at something, gaze clearly interchanging between your pussy and your bouncing tits, nose scrunched in a way that would be cute if it weren't for the circumstances, lips parted beautifully, tongue poking at the corner of his lips. 

So fucking hot.

You feel it before you can process it. It’s abrupt. An intense pressure in your lower abdomen. Unknown. Nothing you’ve felt before. Bordering the need to pee.

“Wait—fuck—slow down.”

He doesn’t.

“Cum again, I don’t care.” He breathes harshly.

“N-no. I’m—“ You grab onto one of his biceps in desperation as his hips keep loudly slapping against yours, cock hitting a spot no one has ever discovered before. Not even yourself.

And then it’s happening. Your walls squeeze so hard, he pulls out with a loud moan. And before the sensation slips away, two of his fingers are inside you. Thrusting hard and fast. Demanding something you’re not sure you can give. But your body gives it anyway. Responding to him like it always does.

And when you feel something trickling down your ass, you let go completely. Your cunt feels aflame, eyes rolling back into your skull as you release the tension in your abdomen. Oddly liberating. A strange feeling of relief taking over you. A little splashing sound.

“Oh my fucking god.” You wheeze, struggling to get your lungs to function. Your brain definitely lacking oxygen.

Still, to an extent, you’re aware of the comforting arm wrapping around your middle. Mark’s familiar warmth helping you resurface.

“Wh-what the fuck just happened?” You mutter against his shoulder.

His drenched hand resting on your thigh is enough confirmation, but you refuse to acknowledge it.

“Pretty sure you just squirted.” He points out with a breathless chuckle.

The gentle kisses scattered on your shoulder make your heart almost jump out of your ribcage. Your arms tremble as they slither around his shoulders of their own accord. His warm chest pressing against yours, forcing out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding.

“I take it that was a first.” He mumbles into your skin.

“How did you do it?” You wonder out loud, the question slipping without you realising.

“I didn’t do shit.” He pulls back just enough to look at you. “I was just fucking you harder than usual and you started pushing me out.”

“This is fucking embarrassing.” You hide your face in your palms.

“What are you on about?” He’s forcing your hands away instantly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to face him.

“Yo,” He cups your face in his hands, his damp fingers against your skin a reminder of what just happened. “Y/N. It was fucking hot. I promise.”

You allow your eyes to open, taking in his genuine expression. “Really?”

“Yes.” He confirms without a second thought. “In my head, you were just really turned on because of me. Do you know how sexy that is?”

“I was really turned on.” You admit openly, knowing that it mostly has to do with him. “Like, more than—“

You cut yourself before oversharing, but his hands drop to your waist to squeeze in encouragement.

“More than what?” He whispers, lips too close to yours, nose rubbing against yours intimately. “Tell me.”

“I just feel like—“ You pause again, inhaling deeply to calm yourself. What are you even trying to say? “You might not wanna know this.”

“Yes, I fucking do.” He says eagerly. Tiny smile on his lips. “I feel like I already know anyway. Just say it.”

“It’s just, sex has never felt this good with other people.” He nods and you continue. “I know it might be weird—“

“It’s not.” He reassures you. Face more serious than ever. “I’ve thought about it too.”

You don’t really know what to say. This feels strange. New. A little too deep for a conversation that’s supposed to be only about sex. Surely it's just your raging hormones.

Pushing your overthinking to the back of your head, you lean in. Silently asking for a kiss he doesn’t hesitate to give you. It’s slow. Not innocent or gentle. Just slow. Almost romantic. Like there’s something unsaid. Something you don’t even want to try and uncover.

He guides your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist before he effortlessly hoists you up. Kiss uninterrupted as he carries you while trying to navigate around your small apartment.

After a couple of stumbles and a few muffled giggles your back finds your soft comforter.

He easily parts your legs, taking his place between them as he hovers close.

“What do you want?” He asks softly, teeth catching your earlobe, sucking playfully as he waits for your response.

You sigh when he descends. Leaving open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. Lips leaving goosebumps in their wake, making it impossible for you to form any coherent thoughts. Even the ceiling looks complicated now.

Your hips lifting off the mattress — trying to meet his — betray you. Fresh heat blooms in your belly again, insatiable, difficult to ignore.

He breathes out a teasing laugh against your damp skin. “You wanna cum again, hm?”

“I’m still sensitive.”

“Not what I asked.” His tongue makes contact with your skin, licking over the spot he marked earlier.

“Yeah.” You breathe out half-heartedly.

“Yeah, what?” He presses, kissing lower and lower, until he’s between your tits.

“Yeah, I wanna cum again.” You huff, hating that you oblige so easily.

His mouth takes in one nipple, licking and sucking harshly before moving across, repeating the same action. Decisive hands push your breasts together, squeezing as he continues leaving wet kisses down your body, and before you know it, he’s grabbing your ankles, dragging to the edge of the mattress as he kneels on the floor, face disappearing between your spread thighs.

Your legs threaten to close around his head when you feel him dribble on your clit, but he forces them open again, folding you in half.

“Markie, baby, please.” You moan, letting your fingers cling onto his hair like a lifeline. He hums in satisfaction when you tug, letting you know he enjoys your neediness.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He confesses, making you whine at the choice of crude words. Maybe in humiliation, maybe in pleasure. And the blob of wetness you feel dribble out of your entrance must give you away. You know he sees it. “You like it when I talk to you like that?”

“Mhmm.” You tug his hair a little harder. His hot breath hitting your clit, testing your patience. “Keep talking.”

“Fuck.” Two of his fingers spread your arousal along with his spit, rubbing up and down your slit, making a mess all over your folds. “You’re a mess, baby.”

“Mm, yes.” You lift yourself on your elbows, needing to see the unholy image. He looks drunk. Completely fucked out. Almost a little insane. Like his mind is not present.

“Remember that time you let me cum inside?” He asks, sounding like he doesn’t even need an answer, before licking a fat stripe from your entrance to your clit. Tongue swirling around the nub lightly, surprising you. You flinch, hips jerking from the overstimulation.

“Oh, fuck—yes.” You pant, whining as his free hand grabs on your thigh a little too roughly. Blunt nails digging in flesh.

“Did it feel good?” He speaks all muffled into your cunt, tongue slipping down to your hole momentarily, lapping up your slick. “Having my cum in you?”

You defeatedly drop back on the mattress with a huff, eyes shutting, brain only focusing on the pleasure and his voice.

“Yes.” You grind against his face as he sucks your clit in his mouth again, tongue flicking over it in quick motions. “So good. Felt so good, Markie.”

He groans, the vibration delicious, going straight through your core.

“Should probably stop fucking you raw.” He mumbles. Two of his fingers joining, rubbing against your entrance teasingly before entering. The slide smooth.

“It feels so good like that, though.” You mewl, being nothing but honest. The feeling of his bare cock inside you, irreversibly engraved in your memory. Incomparable to anything else.

“I know, baby, but you’re always too tight.” His fingers start pumping in and out, curling just how you’ve shown him you like it. “What if I get you pregnant?”

You moan a little too loud at his words. Fucking disgusting. You’re a deranged human being. A lost cause.

“What the fuck.” You think out loud.

He quickens the pace of his hand, tongue slipping out to flick again as he glances up at you. “You want my baby or something?”

You force your mouth and your eyes shut in fear of admitting something you can’t take back later.

He exhales a mean laugh of realisation. “Fuck, look at you. You’re literally dripping.”

“Shut up.” You pant in exasperation, eyes rolling back as he starts jamming his fingers into your quivering hole. The sloshing sounds deafening. An insult to the composure you’ve always tried to maintain.

“Want me to fuck a baby in you? Is that it?” Your legs start shaking. “I’d consider it if we were a little older, you know.” Your back arches. “Bet you’d look sexy pregnant.” Your walls tighten around his fingers. “Wish I could fill you up anytime I wanted.” Your hands shove his face into your cunt again, needing him to shut up. Of course, he doesn’t. “You’d let me, right? You’d just let me take whatever I want, wouldn’t you?”

What is dignity?

“Yes.” You comply without a second thought.

“Yes, what?” He demands, fingering you at an inhuman pace, your g-spot getting abused repeatedly. You’re so close you can taste it. Completely at his mercy.

“I’d let you. Anything you want.” You rasp in relinquishment.

“Good girl.” He sucks on your clit, before giving it a gentle flick and with that little praise, you’re gone. “Mm—that’s it. Make a mess for me.”

You’re giving into another high, gasping at the waves of pleasure, eyes watering from the intensity as they shut completely. You feel a single tear escape and the high-pitched wail you accidentally let out? Unrecognisable. Mortifying.

You’ve barely regained consciousness when he tosses you higher up the bed. You head not even close to the pillows. You’re pretty sure you’re sprawled out diagonal on the mattress, but the thought evaporates when his lips find yours in a heated kiss. It’s sloppy, full of tongue, tastes like you and you have to put serious effort in keeping up with him.

His rock-hard length rests heavy on your tummy and dread washes over you, realising that he still needs to finish. You bet it’s painful for him. But you’re also very aware of the throbbing between your legs — need tangled with overstimulation. Your clit still very raw and tingly. Your inner thighs smeared in slick.

He did this to you. Turned you into some plaything he can just lash out on. It’s fucking annoying. And so arousing. Which makes it even more annoying.

Your frustration slips out in a harsh bite on his bottom lip. You don’t even realise you’re doing it until he pulls away with a pained moan, swollen lip snapping back into place, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths. It breaks when he licks the spot you bit on.

“What was that for?” He asks, a teasing edge in his tone, eyes inspecting you.

“You deserve worse.” Your voice comes out weaker than you expect.

“Turn over.” He ignores you, hand possessive on your hip.

“Uh-uh.” You shake your head in denial. You definitely look like you’re begging. “No way I’m doing doggy right now.”

“Who said anything about doggy?” He arches an eyebrow inquisitively. A bead of sweat dripping next to it. “Just lie on your front. You won’t have to do anything.”

You lean up a little, giving him a chaste kiss, and you feel the little smile that forms on his lips.

“Fine.” You murmur in defeat, too weak to challenge him.

He lifts himself off you, giving you room to flip on your stomach before straddling your thighs, keeping your legs together.

“So fucking perfect.” He praises sweetly as he gropes your ass, hands lift your hips off the mattress just a little, your back forming a tiny arch as you let your face bury in your folded arms.

You exhale in a shudder when you feel his hot breath on your shoulder and a long whimper rolls out when the bulbous tip of his cock kisses your still soaked entrance. The fit is tighter like this. And you’re so horny you find yourself wishing he ruins you. Hoping he fucks you so hard you can’t walk for days. Hoping he claims you his.

Is this normal?

“Ffffuck.” He moans as he bottoms out. Forehead dropping on your shoulder. One hand flat by your head supporting his upper weight, the other on the arch of your back, making sure the angle is right.

He’s stretching your cunt perfectly, making your jaw slacken in a quiet moan. “You feel so big like this.”

“Yeah?” The first drag of his length against your sensitive walls feels too good. The second even better. “Your ass looks fucking unreal like this.”

He punctuates the statement with a harsh thrust. Hips slapping against your behind before he grinds deeper. Cock tickling the perfect spot inside you.

“Harder.” You plead in urgency, needing to feel more. The stimulation too much and not enough at the same time. Too addictive.

For what feels like the first time tonight, he obliges.

You let yourself smile in victory, but it’s cut short when he drops his weight on you. Hot, sweaty skin meeting your back. His face tucked in your neck, breaths ragged as his thrusts increase in momentum. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room, mixing with your whiny sounds.

“Ass up for me, baby.” He sounds almost panicked when you unintentionally drop flat on the mattress. You correct your position instantly, but he still slips a hand under you, palm pressing into your tummy to support you, fingers digging into your pubic bone, dangerously close to your clit.

You feel him everywhere. You’re surrounded by him. By his touch. His scent. His deep sounds of pleasure. His insane heartbeat on your spine. And still, somehow, you want him closer.

You lift your head, neck craning so you can see his face.

“Kiss me.” You whisper.

Something soft flickers in his eyes. And he does.

A hand at the base of your neck holds you in place. Grounding you as his lips slot with yours, his head tilted just right for the kiss to start off as deep as you need it to be. His tongue in your mouth, stroking yours. Slow. Sensual.

A perfect juxtaposition with the animalistic thrusts he’s delivering.

The knot in your tummy is there again, tightening fast. Too fast. Pressure building more intensely than your body can handle.

“Mm-Mark.” You mumble into the kiss. “Please, just cum, I can’t.”

“Yeah you can.” He breaks the kiss, lips still grazing yours. “You’re right there, I can feel you.”

Your fingers are digging into the comforter, needing to hold onto something as you feel the familiar throb of another climax approaching. Mark’s forehead is resting on your temple. The intimate gesture calms you but makes your chest ache too.

It’s scary.

He’s making everything strange.

It’s the hand on your abdomen that helps you get to the finish line. Fingers slipping between your folds, the angle a little awkward, but still enough for him to rub harsh circles on your clit.

You cum with a choked-up scream. It’s too addicting. Consuming in an unhealthy way. A sharp peak you feel like you’ve been climbing towards for hours. Your walls spasm violently around him. The indecent slurping sounds of your cunt vacuuming him in are too fucking loud. Your muscles tensing. Feet kicking in despair. Toes curling.

You’ve lost complete control. You’re sobbing against Mark’s arm, practically drooling on his skin as he talks you through it.

“I’ve got you.”  “You’re okay.” “Pretty baby.” “So good for me.” “Gonna make me cum.”

The sweetest praises whispered in your ear slowly guide you through the aftershocks.

You don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s his voice. Or the way his thumb gently strokes the side of your neck. Or the way he’s now messily thrusting in short stuttering pumps, dragging out your lingering orgasm.

Maybe it’s just you feeling incredibly vulnerable. You really don’t know. But for some reason, the words you whisper next, come so easily to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He immediately halts his movements, burying himself as deep as possible.

“What?” In your hazy state he sounds surprised, confused even. Like it’s the last thing he expected.

You nuzzle against his arm, head turning slightly so you can look at him. He’s already staring. Pupils dilated.

“I’m sorry.” You say more clearly, blinking slowly as you take in his baffled expression turn into a blissful one.

His eyes roll back as you tighten around him on purpose, ass grinding back on him a little. You don’t get the chance to tease as much as you’d like.

He pulls out with a short grunt, the abrupt drag of his cock in your tender walls forcing a sharp hiss out of you. But before you can complain he’s spilling on your lower back. Hot white ropes of his release painting your already drenched skin, like a tramp stamp, laying a claim on you.

You can’t help but moan with him as you look over your shoulder. His fringe is soaked, messily matted to his forehead, sweat dripping from his temples down to his neck, chest flushed, his face contorted prettily as he milks himself dry with his tight fist, the last drops of his cum landing on your left ass cheek.

He looks ethereal like this. Just utterly ruined because of you.

You come to the conclusion that you’re both sickos. No doubt.

You so easily shattered to the thought of him knocking you up, meanwhile he’s just busted a nut because of a half-assed apology. How poetic.

He rolls off you and onto his back with a tired huff. Arm extending for you to use as a headrest, but you shuffle even closer. Head settling on his chest, ear just above his racing heart as you both try to regain your breaths.

He hugs you closer by the shoulders, fingers stroking up and down your arm and you close your eyes to the comforting feeling.

“You okay?” He asks softly when you sigh a little too loud.

“Mhm, just thirsty.”

He exhales a little laugh. “Yeah, same. Give me a minute and I’ll go get us some water.”

“Could you help me clean up first?” You ask sweetly, referring to the drying mess on your back that keeps you from moving too much.

“Nah.” He says jokingly. “I got you. Just need to breathe for a second.”

“It’s stickyyy.” You whine childishly, biting down on his chest gently. A tiny giggle erupts from you when he pokes your side as a warning.

You both lie in comfortable silence for a little while, basking in the afterglow. His fingers not stopping the gentle strokes on your skin, helping you into a more relaxed state. His cum on your back forgotten now.

You lift your head when his heart has slowed down to normal. “Since when can you last that long?”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The ridiculous question catching him off guard.

“Ummmm. Rude?” His lips form a fake pout.

“Oh, come on.” You challenge suspiciously. “Your stamina is good, but that was crazy.”

He smirks. Free arm draping over his face, covering his eyes. “I may have had a wank before coming over.”

Oh?

“Where? You had practice.”

Silence.

No way.

“Ew Mark!” You exclaim in disgust but still can’t prevent the laugh that tumbles out. “The locker room?”

He chuckles along with you. “Well, in the shower. I waited until everyone left. I’m not a heathen.”

“Still pretty grim.” You disapprove with a scrunch of your nose.

“You’re the one who kept sending me nudes!”

“A bikini pic in a dingy changing room is not a nude, sorry.” What a silly man. “I just wanted your opinion, you doof.”

“Which I gave.” He points out with a hand gesture.

“And then thought, hmm might as well rub one out.”

“That’s none of your business.” His cocky expression making you want to squish his face.

“You kind of made it my business when you decided to rearrange my insides.” You retort with a pinch of his nipple, earning a exaggerated yelp from him.

“Yo, that’s on you.” He sits up carefully after leaving a smooch on your cheek and a second one on your shoulder. “Not my fault you’ve got attitude.”

Your eyes dreamily drag over his back muscles down to his small waist as you keep lying on your front, cheek squished on your arm. “I don’t have attitude.”

He hums skeptically as he stands and starts looking around for what you assume are his boxers. “Yes, you do. But that’s fine.”

“Is it?” You question innocently. You could remind him that his bottoms are discarded on the bathroom floor but his cute butt is a little too nice to look at.

“Yeah.” He gives you a gorgeous smile as he stands by the doorway, letting his gaze trace over your naked form, mimicking yours as it lingers on your ass for a second before meeting your eyes again. “Cause you said you’re sorry.”

“Get out.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Mark has given up on trying to figure out what exactly it is you want from him. At times, he likes to think he’s able to read your mind. Read your likes and dislikes. What irritates you. What makes you kick your feet with excitement. But your neutrality gets in the way most of the time. And so, he’s settled with ‘she still wants me around, I guess I’m doing something right’.

He’s been thinking about what you said the other night for days now. Sex has never felt this good with other people.

And you’re right. It hasn’t. For him it’s not just the sex that feels good though. And he’s accepted that.

He’s accepted that he might be more into you than you are into him. He’s also accepted that he might just be wrong about that. Because you really are an enigma. For all his knows, you might be in love with him and he’s just too thick to understand. Though, he highly doubts that.

He knows you like him—as person. That you enjoy his company and feel comfortable around him. No matter the setting. Whether you’re alone or just chilling with friends. You always look at him with appreciation. You always find a way to touch him somehow. A hand on the shoulder. Or his knee. Your side leaning into his. Your arm linking with when you’re talking to someone else. Like it’s instinct. Like you just need to be touching him at all times.

He knows it’s not that big of a deal. Friends touch each other all the time. But then again, are you two just friends?

It would be a hell of a twisted friendship.

Of course, you’re friends to a certain extend. But admittedly, Mark has never had a friendship like this before.

He’s had complicated relationships before. Relationships that didn’t hold the entire sense of a committed relationship. But those were never with friends. Those were just with girls he didn’t know what he wanted from or girls that didn’t know what they wanted from him.

Maybe that’s where his insecurities stem from. Or his lack of initiative.

He should have asked you ages ago. What you want from him. From this. Where this is headed.

But when he realised you’re more than okay with just hanging out and whatever it is that you two are doing, he talked himself out of asking for too much. If you wanted something more, something stable, you would have asked for it, surely. You would have called him out. You of all people would not hesitate to demand what you deserve.

And you really do deserve a lot more than just hang out sessions that always lead to sex.

He’s considered asking you out. He’s come close to saying the words more than a few times. But the thought of you rejecting him and disappearing like you did in first year of uni has always lingered in the back of his mind.

Because not having you in his life would really fucking suck. Especially now that he knows what it’s like to have you around.

Before, it was just wondering. Now it’s an expectation.

He dreads the days he doesn’t see you as it is. He can’t possibly imagine what it would be like to not see you at all. He basically doesn’t even recall what life was like before you and it’s only been three months since that night in Chenle’s spare room.

Graduation is approaching though. And he always feels a little too devastated at the thought of losing touch with you. At the thought of life and other people getting in the way. You clearly don’t want him to be your boyfriend, meaning that eventually someone else will be. And where does Mark stand when that happens?

Nowhere near you for sure. Because what kind of an idiot would be okay with his amazing girlfriend hanging out with her ex-fuck buddy.

Not that Mark would be okay with that scenario either. He’d probably cry and then distance himself if you started dating someone.

Because fuck witnessing that. And fuck being the old flame.

He’s seen too much of you. Tasted too much of you. Felt too much.

And he can’t undo any of it. It all sits there, crowding his brain. Flashes before his eyes repeatedly.

Even when you’re not with him, you’re all he sees. All he feels. All he thinks of. And even when you’re with him, he misses you. He often worries he’s being too much, but he can’t help it.

You’re all he looks forward to after a long day. A text. A call. A meme. Anything from you.

He knows he’s long gone. There’s no saving him from eventual heartbreak. It will happen. He’s sure of it.

But right now, all he can think of is how good and warm your mouth feels. And how pretty you look on your knees for him.

And what he’s sure of is he won’t last long. Not if you keep swallowing around him like that. Lodging him in your throat like you want him to suffocate you. Like you want to suck the life out of him, not just his cum.

It’s absurd. How deep you’re taking him.

This was not what he had planned. You were both supposed to be at a stupid disco event with all your friends by now. The QR codes are saved on his phone waiting to be scanned, yet he’s stuck on your sofa with you between his spread legs, sucking him off like your life depends on it. Moaning around his throbbing cock like you’re the one losing it. Like you’re the one who’s about to crash.

“Jesus fuck—Y/N, baby, slow down.” He rasps, hating how weak he sounds.

You whine in protest when he tugs at your hair a little too hard, the vibration going straight through him.

You slowly drag your lips off, your hand still jerking him off, mainly focusing on the tip as you let a glob of spit dribble down on him, using it to rub him faster, fist tightening, making him see stars.

“Just take it.” You mumble breathlessly, eyes glancing up at him, looking a little crazed.

He doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. Not because your makeup and hair are done. Not because you’re wearing the sluttiest dress he’s seen you in. He’s seen you in Kuromi PJs plenty of times and still gotten hard and fucked you senseless with your pink top still on.

It’s your eagerness to please him that gets him.

The fact that you couldn’t care less about messing up your lipgloss. Which you really have. It’s smeared all over his cock now, mixed with your spit and his pre-cum. A shiny mess.

It’s how feral you look.

Since the second he stepped foot in your apartment, all hyped up and ready to go to the venue and show you off. All you did was look him up and down once before grabbing him by the collar and shoving him on the sofa.

It’s been maybe five minutes since then and he already can neither think straight nor breathe properly.

His free hand is twitching, fingers digging into the sofa cushion as he struggles to keep his eyes open, refusing to look away from you. Your pretty face. Your soft hands touching him. The arch of your back. Your cute ass sticking out in that illegal tube dress. Thin straps fallen off your shoulders, gathering at your upper arms. Cleavage on display. Your tits jiggling from the rapid movement of your hand.

He almost finds it hard to believe. How willingly you got on your knees for him. Like it was all you’d been thinking all day. Like you’d been plotting to ruin him.

You’re certainly succeeding.

“You look so good.” He moans. It resembles a complaint. And maybe it is. Because why do you look so good?

“Yeah?” You drag your lips over one side of his cock, scattering soft kisses as you keep your fist tight around him, quickly pumping his tip only. A torture. “You like my dress?”

“I like everything.” He admits without hesitation.

“Really?” You look up at him with innocent eyes, tongue poking out just a little to lick him from-base-to-top, like you would an ice lolly, swirling around the tip just to make a spectacle. “Everything?”

He bobs his head in a quick nod, not trusting his voice. You start pumping his whole length now, a little slower than before as you lean up, free hand grabbing his thigh, using it as leverage to bring your face closer to his.

“Wanted to look pretty for you tonight.” You confess, like it’s a secret.

“You do. You always look pretty.” He gives in to your taunting without a care.

He’ll happily act pathetic for you whenever you want him to. He is pathetic. But right now, he really needs release. He’s desperate for it. And the only thing he can think of is how good your lips look all wet and swollen.

So he leans down a little, the hand in your hair pulling you closer, his free one cupping your jaw. And then he’s kissing you. And you’re letting him.

You taste like candy — probably your lipgloss — with a hint of saltiness — probably him — and he can’t get enough of it. His tongue is curling with yours messily, needing to taste as much of you as possible. And the moan you let out against his lips drives him into a frenzy.

Without much thought, he’s pushing your head down again, a surprised yelp leaving you but you oblige anyway. Lips wrapping around his tip immediately, tongue swirling a couple of times before you suck gently. Then hard.

He’s got hold of your head with both hands, keeping your mouth on him. And when you sink lower, he thrusts, reaching the back of your throat, biting his lip at the choking sound you let around him. He holds you there. Lets you adjust a little before he starts fucking up into you, fucking your mouth, using your throat like he would your cunt.

He really hopes you’re leaking down there. Throbbing like he is. As sick as it might sound, he hopes it hurts. He hopes there’s a puddle on the floor.

“You know when you look the prettiest?” He asks, knowing it’s impossible for you to actually speak.

You respond with a muffled hum anyway. Your throat tightening a little, making him grunt.

“When you beg.” He thrusts a little deeper to punctuate the word, and you gagging sounds would normally make him slow down. Not now. Now they spur him on.

So he keeps fucking your throat, hands buried in your hair, holding you hostage. You still take it like a champ. The only sign of protest is your nails digging into the muscle of his thigh, both hands bracing, allowing him to push your head down all the way.

He can’t help the deep moan that tumbles out when your nose brushes his pubic bone. He’s so fucking deep.

When you grab onto his wrist, squeezing, he pulls you off, knowing it’s you signalling you need to breathe.

You gasp for air loudly the second you’re back on the surface, your eyes full of tears, only few escaping as you blink fast. He finds himself wishing your mascara isn’t waterproof, wanting to mess you up completely. To see you shatter.

“Fuck.” You manage to get out between pants. It sounds broken. You're clearly turned on. He loves it.

“You can take it, right baby?” He coos, voice full of sarcasm.

You nod, eyes wide, looking up at him like he’s hung the stars. For you, he’d hang the whole fucking universe if he could.

“Yeah? Want my cum in your pretty little mouth?” He adoringly strokes his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks, wiping away your tears.

“Yes.” You scoot closer, full of eagerness, tits squished up against the edge of the sofa. “Please.”

You knew exactly what he needed. And you gave it to him. You begged.

“Go ahead.” He wraps a hand around his base as he urges you closer, cradling the back of your head.

When you stick your tongue out obediently, he gently slaps his cock on it a few times, edging both of you, rubbing the tip along your bottom lip. And he feels deranged when he thinks that his precum looks better than your lipgloss.

He lets you get to work when he’s had enough of teasing you, your little squirms confirming that you’re suffering just as much.

You bring him right on the edge only after a few quick jerks, combined with your warm mouth sucking hard on his tip.

His body tenses, eyes rolling back in bliss.

“Holy shit, Y/N, I’m cumming.” He warns with a low grunt.

When he releases down your throat, you swallow everything, making sure to not miss a single drop. Licking up and down his length, getting whatever escaped the corners of your lips, cleaning him up like he’s your little toy. And he’s so pliant, he thinks he might as well be.

You give a few more lazy but still torturous pumps, milking him until he has to wrap his fist around yours to halt your movements. Too drained to actually utter words.

With one last suckle, you pull away, looking all satisfied and content, while he still struggles to regain his breath.

He lets his head fall back in defeat as you tuck him back into his briefs. And even when he feels your weight on him, knees on either side of his hips, he still lies there limbless, eyes closed. He does smile at the cute giggle you let out against his neck, though. It’s impossible not to.

“Are you dead?” You speak softly against his ear.

His arms come back to life, wrapping around your middle as he leans forward, face burying in your neck, inhaling your sweet perfume. He shudders at the softness of your fingers combing through his hair, nails scratching his scalp just right.

“My hands feel numb.” He mumbles sleepily. You feel so soft, so comfortable. Like home. And he inevitably squeezes you closer, relishing in your warmth and the thump of your heart against his chest.

“Isn’t that a sign for a heart attack?” You reply teasingly.

“That’d be embarrassing.” He laughs weakly. “You’d have to explain and all. Yeah, not sure, I just sucked him off and he died.”

“Good way to go, though.” You joke, leaving a little kiss on his temple before cupping his cheeks in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

Your lips are still swollen, and he reaches up to wipe the lipgloss that’s smeared on your chin with his thumb. You smile sweetly, your gaze intense enough to make him feel giddy.

He doesn’t think too much when he leaves a quick peck on your lips, and your blush is all he could ask for in return. Before he has time to pull away completely, you pull him in for another quick kiss. And another one. And another one. Until you’re both laughing in each other’s mouths.

“So, like,” He mumbles against your lips. “What exactly came over you?”

“What do you mean?” You give him one last kiss before staring at him with the fakest expression of innocence.

“You know what I mean.” He slumps his weight back on the sofa to get more comfy and look at you better. “What made you go all berserk?”

“Berserk?” Your hands rest on his chest as you sit on him properly, crotches pressed together, only his boxers and your panties in the way. And he swears he can feel your wetness seeping through. He ignores it for now, stroking your upper thighs just beneath where your tight dress has ridden up.

“You practically pounced on me.” He tries not to laugh at your squirming. He loves getting you all flustered. It doesn’t happen often.

“Just felt horny.” You shrug, trying to cover it all up with nonchalance.

He’s not having it. “So you sucked me off?”

“Are you complaining?” You challenge with a raised eyebrow.

“Not at all.” He smirks, fingers slipping under the hem of your dress. Just a little. “Just want you to be honest.”

Your eyes close for a second, a sigh escaping when his thumb extends to your inner thigh, just an inch off your centre. “You just look really handsome.”

There it is.

“Really?” His thumb drags closer, your nails digging into his chest.

You nod. Eyes all cute and innocent. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

God, you’re going to be the death of him.

“You always make me feel good.” He admits with nothing but sincerity.

You spread your legs further apart when he presses into the crease of your thigh, thumb slipping just under the seam of your thin panties.

“Do you still wanna go to the event?” You ask, hips dragging forward.

Fuck. He’s getting hard again.

“I’ll go if you wanna go.” His eyes trained on your face, seeking for a reaction.

He doesn’t want to go. He really fucking doesn’t. And he knows you don’t either. But he wants you to say it. Loud and clear.

“What about Chenle?”

“What about him?” Mark chuckles at the silly question.

“He always accuses me of stealing you away from him.” A guilty smile on your face.

“Eh, he’s just petty I prefer spending time with you.”

You chuckle at that. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying.” He lets his free hand sneak to your ass, dragging you over his erection slowly. You let him. “Don’t worry about Chenle, he’ll have fun with or without us there.”

“Okay.” You say, eyes fluttering closed, clearly affected by the friction.

“Okay what?” He finally lets his thumb slip between your folds, immediately finding you swollen clit.You’re drenched, and he wonders how you’ve lasted so long without complaining. 

“Let’s not go.” You surprise him by eagerly pulling his boxers down again, and he instantly raises his hips in compliance.

“You sure?” He clumsily tugs your panties to the side.

“Yeah.” Dress bunched up above your ass now as you shuffle a little closer, exactly where he needs you. “We’ll go next time.”

“Yeah, fuck—“ He rubs the tip up and down your slit, gathering all your slick. “Next time.”

“Uh-huh.” Your lips are on his and then you’re sinking down. Slow. His hands careful, on your ass, holding you steady as you accommodate to the stretch.

Fuck going to a stupid disco event. Fuck the money he paid for the tickets. He is not moving from this sofa until he’s completely ruined your make-up and you’re begging him to stop making you cum.

Mark is sure Chenle will understand. And if he doesn’t, well, he can cry about it while busting moves to Boogie Wonderland.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Right, so what’s the deal with you and Mark?” Giselle shouts over the loud music as you both queue at the bar for a drink.

The boys are all standing in a little further behind, still fully immersed in a discussion about how Chenle missed a hoop during a game. You could almost hear the younger boy’s whining over the bass.

“He’s your friend, why are you asking me?” You respond with a teasing smile.

“He doesn’t tell me shit!” Giselle complains with a laugh and you can’t help but join. “All he says is ‘yo, I’m out’ and I just have to somehow guess he’s coming over to yours.”

You try to hide your smile, eyes focus on the bottle collection behind the bar. “In his defence, there’s not much to tell.”

Giselle raises her eyebrows interrogatively. “Seriously? You guys have missed so many nights out just to spend time together and there’s not much to tell?”

“Honest.” You shrug. “We hang out. We fuck. Sleep. Repeat.”

She blinks once. “So, like, you’re not exclusive?”

“Haven’t really had that chat.” You say plainly. You try.

“Well, what if — and I’m not saying that he has — but what if he slept with someone else?”

You certainly have thought about this. Plenty of times. So you just lie. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Yes, you have. You’d fucking slit his throat.” She dismisses your poor attempt of deceiving her and quickly shouts ‘two vodka lime sodas’ at the bartender.

“I guess it would have to happen for me to know how I’d feel.” Another lie. You know how you’d feel.

“I got this one. You can get the next round.” She says with a smile as she taps her card on the little POS machine, and you can only smile back as a thank you.

“Look,” She continues. “I’m not here to air no one’s business, especially Mark’s, cause he’s really a gem. But I’ll just say you’d be an idiot to think he has eyes for anyone else but you.”

You hesitate for too long and she speaks again. “What I mean is, if you also happen to not have eyes for anyone else, well, you’d have to be the one to admit it first.” She quickly hands you one of the two drinks the bartender leaves in front of you. You might have to down it if this conversation goes on for too long. “Not because he has some big ego, you know that already, I’m sure. He’s just the kind of person that won’t risk saying the wrong thing.”

Again, you hesitate, and she smiles appreciatively. The woman sees right through you. You hate it. But you like her.

“Just think about it.” She grabs two straws and plops one in your drink. “And I’m saying this with nothing but respect.” She steps a little closer, her face more serious now. “If you’re just in it for the sex, end it. I know that’s not the case, but I’ve gotta say my piece. He’s my bestie.”

You’ve known Giselle for a few months now. And seeing her this serious does strike something in you. Intimidation maybe. She’s one of the sweetest people you know, no doubt. But right now, she’s not your friend. She’s Mark’s friend. This is her indirectly saying ‘don’t hurt him’, and in all honesty, it makes you like her even more. It soothes you that Mark has people looking out for him.

You can only nod with a tight-lipped smile, and she does the same.

When you start walking through the crowd to get back to the group, you see Karina and Jaemin have arrived too and you wave at them excitedly. But then you notice a girl you don’t recognise. She’s talking to Mark. He’s smiling. Her hand on his arm. He doesn’t pull away.

Hello?

Before you can jump to any conclusions, Giselle saves the day again. “That’s Luna. Just warning you, she wants your man.”

“Huh?”

She snorts. “She’s had a crush on him for ages, bless her. Obviously he’s not interested, but thought you should know, in case you wanna... you know.”

“Pee around him?” You say with a knowing look.

She smirks. “Well, I was going for something a bit more classy, but that sounds better.”

You look at Luna again, and there she is still, talking to your man— Mark. Talking to Mark. More like chewing his ear off with how close she’s standing.

You really don’t want to be that person. The jealous one. The possessive one. The one that needs to mark their territory. You’ve been that person before and it only brings back bad memories.

The difference now is that you don’t even have a valid reason to act all mental. Mark hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just standing there smiling politely, with a drink in his hand. He’s just standing there waiting for you to get back. Like a boyfriend would.

The thought sits heavy in your heart.

He’s never really implied that he’d like to have that title. Your boyfriend. And quite frankly, you’ve not allowed yourself to indulge in the thought the he would actually make such a great one. A dreamy boyfriend. Simply because you know he would and you’re not so sure you’d be able to be an evenly good girlfriend.

And so you choose ‘classy’ in Giselle’s words. You choose peace. No territory marking.

When you join the group again, you have a catch-up with Karina and Jaemin first, turning your back on Mark and Luna. You almost turn to look when you hear an obnoxiously loud laugh. Surely hers. Why the fuck is she laughing? He’s funny, but he’s not that funny.

No. Classy. Stay classy.

A few minutes go by. Everyone is laughing. Shouting over the music. And you’re trying to stay involved. Present in the group. You really are, but you feel like your brain’s on fire. You’re struggling to focus on what Chenle is joking about, very aware of the two people behind you, still having a conversation.

After what feels like ages, you feel a pair of arms wrapping around your shoulders. Familiar. Warm. The scent of his aftershave calming you.

“Yo.” He says in your ear as he slowly sways you from side to side. It’s loud enough only for you to hear.

You can’t help but smile triumphantly. Relief washing over you. You turn in his arms and proceed to wrap yours around his waist, leaning up on your tiptoes to reach his ear.

“Yo.” You mimic, before leaving a tiny kiss on his cheek.

“Having fun?” He asks with a sweet smile, his eyes twinkling in the low lights of the venue.

You nod. “You?”

He shrugs. “I’m a bit bored.”

“Mm, maybe you should stop having boring conversations then.” Your eyes widen at your slip up, and so do his. Surprise written all over them.

Oh no oh no oh no.

Then it shifts. His features soften. A tiny grin.

“What?” You say, trying to maintain a neutral face.

“Nothing.” He’s still smirking. Fuck.

“The fuck you smiling at?” You ask in irritation. Almost like a threat.

“Nothing.” He presses. Head shaking in defence. Lopsided smile still on his stupid face.

“Shut up.” You mumble, face burying in his shoulder, hands tightening around his torso to ground yourself. This is fucking ridiculous.

“Awww, dude.” He chuckles softly. “Did you get a little jealous?”

It’s whispered but it still makes you shiver. “No.”

“Hmm okay.” He leans down to leave a kiss on your hairline. A sweet intimate gesture he shouldn’t feel that comfortable making. Just like you shouldn’t be acting all jealous.

Because he’s not yours. Simple as that.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You finalise.

He holds your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. “Would it really be so bad if you were?”

“I’m not.”

He laughs. Perfect teeth on display.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek, trying to contain a smile.

“Okay, well,” He purses his lips in thought. “Just in case I wasn’t clear before.” Another kiss. “It’s okay if you are.”

You frown for a second, but try to cover it with a blasé look. “Why do you want me to be jealous?”

“I—“ He looks taken aback. “I don’t. I just—I wouldn’t mind if you were is all I’m saying.”

“Why?” You press, hands curling around his wrists.

It’s very clear he’s nervous now. Maybe a little confused too. “Because you’re allowed to?”

“I’m not, though.” You point out casually. The energy has shifted between you and he’s noticed. You can tell he has when his hands drop from your face and pull out of your hold.

There’s a crease between his eyebrows. “Okay?”

You don’t really know what else to say. And neither does he, it seems. You’re both just standing there awkwardly, while he looks around. As though looking at you is the wrong thing to do.

“Mark—“

“So now we have boundaries.” His forwardness takes you by surprise, and so does his sarcastic tone. He’s annoyed. Offended even.

“Why are you pissed off?” You clap back, matching his attitude.

“Because you’re lying.”

“I’m not—“

“You are.” He steps closer. “You’re jealous and you can’t accept it, even though I said it doesn’t bother me. And you hate that I can tell, so you’re deflecting.” His harsh voice reaches your spine. It’s not pleasant. Not familiar.

“How am I deflecting?” You try to defend. It’s futile, you know.

He scoffs. “Never have I said that you’re not allowed to be jealous, and you still thought that would be a good argument.”

“I can’t be bothered with this.” You say dismissively, you temper getting the worst of you, eyes already burning. You’re just embarrassing yourself, but you can’t back down.

“Cause you’re wrong.” He said simply.

“You really wanna have a row here?” You raise your eyebrows in challenge, hand gesturing your surroundings.

“Okay, so, let’s go outside.” No hesitation, he grabs your hand, not in the sweet delicate manner he usually does. His touch devoid of any warmth as he drags you through the crowd.

You briefly catch eyes with Karina, who’s obviously witnessed the whole interaction transpire. She gives you a very awkward thumbs up, as if to say ‘you got this’ although her expression says more ‘you’re fucked’ than anything else.

Then Luna. She’s just standing there, pretending to be paying attention to whatever some other girl is going on about. But her attention is on you and Mark. And all you can try and do is ignore her. She’s the least of your concerns now.

When you’re both outside, in the smokers’ area, Mark leans against a wall and you realise you're still holding your drink, the condensation, dripping over your fingers.

You're focused on him though, staring at his face like you’re a lost cause.

His eyes aren’t on you yet. He’s looking around as he exasperatedly rubs his jaw. He looks unsettled. Like he has things to say but hasn’t found the words yet.

“Mark, what is happening?” You fail to come across as calm. It’s just sheer panic that coats your voice.

“Give me a second.” He dismisses you, one palm running down his face as, you assume, he gathers his thoughts.

Then he meets your stare and you realise you’re chewing on your lip a little too hard, tasting metallic. Why are you so scared?

“So, like, what do you think is going on here?” He demands, arms crossing over his chest. You feel even smaller than before now that he’s watching your every move.

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

He nods. “Okay. I’ll put it simply. We’ve been fucking for three months, correct?”

You know where this is headed, and you can tell it’s not a good direction, but you have no choice but to go along at this point.

“Correct.”

“Cool.” He pauses for a moment, gaze intense. “To my understanding, this is not some ‘no strings attached’ bullshit. We talk, we’re affectionate, we ditch plans with other people to hang out, I’ve basically moved into your flat and you’re here telling me you’re not allowed to get jealous. So, I’m asking you again, what the fuck do you think is going on here?”

Silence. You swallow, a little too loud, your mouth feeling dry, your stomach heavy. “I don’t—“

“Don’t say you don’t know.” His hand waving disdainfully, shutting you down in an instant. “This is a long overdue conversation and you know it. I just haven’t put pressure on it cause I could always tell you needed time. And that’s fine, but I’m not gonna act all righteous when you’re talking nonsense.”

“I’m not t—“

“Yes you—“

“Stop interrupting me!” You shout, unintentionally, having reached your limit. It seems to put him back in his place, his eyes wide, his lips sealing tightly.

You take a deep breath to compose yourself, looking around and noticing some people staring, Chenle and Jaemin being two of them. They’ve clearly paused their vaping session, too immersed in your situation. You throw them a glare without meaning to and they both immediately look away.

Mark is still, back against the wall as he watches you and you bite the inside of your cheek while you let the chaos in your head settle.

“When have you ever made your intentions clear, Mark?” You succeed at keeping your voice steady this time. You know there’s no answer to your question, because he hasn’t, but you want to see him try.

He doesn’t stall. “You know I want you, don’t play stupid.”

“Wanting me and wanting to be with me are two different things.” You retort quickly and his scoff pisses you off even more.

“Fuck off with your technicalities. You're full of shit.” He’s a lot better at arguing than you expected, and if you weren’t incredibly aggravated, you’d think he’s insanely attractive right now.

“Alright, since we’re being open and honest then, I think you’re a fucking coward.”

“Excuse me?” His eyes are wild, tone a little more high pitched.

“You’re acting all brave and offended right now, when you know damn well you’ve been so comfortable fucking me and getting all the perks you’d get from a relationship without facing any consequences.” You got him. His face drops, ears flaming red and you can almost see the smoke coming out of his ears. “That’s not righteous, Mark, that’s fucking pretentious.”

“So, if I'd asked you out, you would’ve said yes.” He states with a raised eyebrow, tone laced with sarcasm.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I don’t like living in hypothetical scenarios.”

He breathes out a humourless laugh. “So what the fuck do you want then?”

It’s an easy question, though, you do hesitate for a split second. 

“I want initiative, and I want clarity, and I want someone who won’t just go with the flow." You explain as calmly as you can. 

He doesn't seem to appreciate your honesty, expression sour and confused. “I'm not gonna beg you to date me. You've made it pretty clear you don't want that.” 

“But you think it’s expected of me to get jealous?” You let out an incredulous laugh at his stupidity. "Listen, we can argue all you want on this, but essentially what you’ve asked me tonight is to be emotionally vulnerable when you’ve never actually reassured me. And sex doesn't count.” 

That seems to shut him up. Classic.

You breathe for a moment, struggling not to sound too harsh. “And I’m supposed to feel bad because, what? Your ego got hurt? Because I won't admit that I'm jealous? That’s unfair, don’t you think?”

You’re bitter. You know you are. But for some reason you can’t back down. And you know you’re both right as well as wrong in some aspects, but you’re disappointed, and frustrated, and tired, and quite frankly, sad.

“I don’t need you to feel bad.” He argues, with an unreadable expression. You’ve lost him in this moment, you know you have. You’re just hoping you haven’t lost him in the long run. “I just don’t understand why you haven’t said any of this before.”

“Because, Mark, we’re not in a relationship.” There it is. You’ve said it. What you’ve both been dancing in circles around.

He nods. Again. This time in defeat, eyes empty. “Clearly.”

“Look, we can go back to mine and talk if you want, but—“

“Nah.” He says abruptly, taking you aback with a tone that's so cold but still burns somehow. “I’ve ditched my friends enough times. You’re more than welcome to leave if you want, but I’m staying.”

He leaves you speechless with that. It's so out of character. So hurtful. And now it’s your turn to just nod emptily, your eyes stinging. “Okay.”

And just like that, Mark Lee walks away from you, without another word. And you’re left with a heavy heart, chaotic thoughts and a single tear that you quickly wipe the second it escapes.

Karina approaches you quickly when you head back inside to gather your things, and like the great friend she is, she calls an uber, insisting on coming back with you. You don’t really have the energy to refuse, so you just give her an appreciative smile. And just as you’re about to step out the main doors, you look over your shoulder once.

He’s by the bar. Expression a little less angry when your eyes meet, but still stern. His lips part for a second, like he’s about to mouth something at you, but then he looks away. Uninterested.

Clearly having chosen not to concern himself with you anymore.

You do get a text from him later in the night. Not what you’d hoped for, but it’s something.

marklee: home safe?

That’s it. No emoji at the end. Just plain letters.

You reply with a ‘yep’, and all you get in response is a thumbs-up reaction.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Karina listens to you when you’re in the comfortable confines of your bedroom. Both in PJs, make-up off, munching on some forgotten snacks you had on your snack shelf. And you hate that you’re holding onto the bag of haribos like it’s something precious. 

They’re Mark’s favourite. You’re pretty sure he’s bought them. How ironic.

“Okay, I’ll be real with you.” Karina says as she pops a Malteser in her mouth, the crunch loud. “I do see where you’re coming from, I do. But.”

“Oh—“

“But!” She insists, index finger raised as though she’s about to lecture you. She probably is. “You were pretty harsh.”

“Yeah, I fucking know that.” You grumble, the sweet in your mouth suddenly tasting sour.

“And I do sympathise with him, I’m not gonna lie. You’re pretty hard to read sometimes.” She gives you a pointed look when you roll your eyes. “You are! And I’m saying that as your best friend. I can’t even imagine what it’s like from a guy’s perspective. Especially from Mark’s.”

“Why especially from Mark’s?” You mimic her voice.

“Uh, not too much attitude.” She warns, and you immediately settle down with a bored look. “He’s just a precious little munch.”

You snort at her characterisation. It’s true though.

“And yeah, he does lack initiative, but he clearly is obsessed with you.” She says with a sad pout.

You throw the empty bag of sweets at the foot of the bed and dramatically lie down, head in Karina’s lap as you curl into a ball. “Well, now he hates me.”

“Okay, let’s not be dramatic.” She strokes your hair — hopefully with the hand that’s not covered in melted chocolate. “He’s just angry. He’ll come around sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but what do I do?” You ask helplessly, all muffled.

“I think you should give him some space first. You’re clearly both not in the right headspace to have a conversation that won’t lead to more misunderstandings.” She hums in thought. “Maybe let him come to you?”

“He won’t.”

“He might.” She defends.

“And what if he doesn’t?” You sound pathetic.

“Then we kidnap him.” She says like it’s a given, managing to make you breathe out a tiny laugh.

“I’m serious, c’mon.” You poke her thigh.

“Then you go to him.” She speaks more gently now. “And if that doesn’t work, then you have your answer.”

“Which is…?”

She sighs. “Which is…he might not be the guy for you.”

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When Karina suggested you gave Mark some space, you’d assumed maybe a day or two, three tops. Not a week.

A whole fucking week. With no text, no call, nothing. You haven’t even seen him around campus like you usually do. It’s like the universe is conspiring against you. And every morning when you wake up and see no notification from him, the same thought hits you.

He doesn’t miss me.

You could easily reach out first, take matters into your own hands, be an independent woman and all that, sure. But you feel like you’ve done that more times than you can count with him — and every other guy you’ve dealt with. You’re exhausted of taking matters into your own hands. Why can’t he just take the first step?

You stare at the last two messages you exchanged every day. That stupid thumbs up reaction laughing in your face. Mocking you.

The one person you can’t face is Giselle. Not after what she so openly discussed with you. You’re so embarrassed you skipped your pilates session this week. Plus, you’re too drained for physical exercise, having barely had any sleep. Your thoughts keep you awake at night. Sometimes it’s the crying. Sometimes both.

The first couple of days you had hope, but after day four, you started to realise that maybe Mark Lee is more hurt than you thought he was. Or he’s just decided you’re not worth the hassle.

One thing you’ve realised is that Mark had become a constant. A fixture in your daily routine. A safe harbour even. A presence you always looked forward to. And now that he’s not there, it all just feels…empty.

As days go by you feel him slipping even further away. And sure, Karina and Jaemin are great, supportive friends, who are always there for you. But they’re not your Mark. No one is. No one can be.

You miss him. A tremendous amount. So much you can’t even put it into words. So much it hurts your heart.

And just when you’re starting to come to terms with the fact that you might actually never see him again, there he is, walking down that same pathway. The one he was walking down when you bumped into him three months ago. Only this time he’s all alone. No Giselle. Just him with his big headphones on, hands in his hoodie pockets, backpack slightly swaying. He seems distracted. Lost in his own thoughts as he stares at the pavement.

Your chest tightens. Breath catching in your throat. And your feet just decide to work on their own.

You’re heading towards opposite directions. He doesn’t notice you at first, and you entertain the thought of swerving him, leaving him be, but at the last second you actively block his way, forcing him to raise his head. He halts his steps immediately, eyes widening, eyebrows raising.

God, you’ve missed his face.

You stand there, facing him, not too close, but close enough to get a whiff of his laundry detergent, as you clutch onto your bag straps. And then he’s removing his headphones, letting them rest around his neck.

“Hi—“ 

“Hey—“

You both speak at the same time, laughing awkwardly. So you try again when he remains silent.

“Where you headed?” You start casually, or eagerly, you can’t tell.

“Class.” He points his thumb towards the Arts and Literature building, and you remember, it’s Monday afternoon. He’s got that ‘Medieval Romance Poetry’ class that he always complains about.

“Right.” You say with a smile, hoping to get one back. 

You do, but it’s forced. You can tell. It’s not the signature smile that radiates warmth. It’s distant.

“You done for the day?” He asks, and you feel relief at the thought that he also remembers your schedule.

“Yeah, just heading home.”

He gives a simple nod, and you can faintly hear the music that’s playing from his headphones. Maybe Mac Miller?

“Okay, well—“

“Do you think we can talk sometime soon?” You say it before you can back down, and you hate yourself for it.

“Umm,” He hesitates, face too neutral for a positive answer. “I don’t really think there’s much to talk about if I’m honest.”

Your heart rate quickens at that. Your hands clammy, fingers twitching. And you feel like crying. “No?”

“We clearly want different things, Y/N.” He drops it so naturally, like he’s rehearsed it.

He can’t be serious. “Mark I’m—“

“Look, it’s fine. I get it, we don’t align.” He takes a deep breath. “This is just not for me, I’m sorry.”

“Why?” It comes out as a whisper, barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I was just angry.”

You’re hopelessly trying to salvage something that feels beyond you now, and it doesn’t feel right. This is not how it’s supposed to go. This is worst case scenario, not what you hoped for. He can’t just not want to be with you anymore. He can’t just be over it so quickly.

“It’s done. Let’s just leave it there, okay?” Now he’s smiling? Really? “For both of our sakes.”

You can’t cry. Don’t cry. You keep repeating the words, hoping they’ll register in your brain. Hoping your eyes will listen. And you’re praying this is a prank. This isn’t your Mark. It can’t be.

Was he always this cruel? Or is this some kind of a sick joke? God, please let it be a sick joke.

“I honestly wish you the best, no hard feelings.” He steps closer, but only so he can walk past you. “I have to go, but maybe see you around yeah?”

You manage to look in his eyes one last time. You want to. Just to see if you can still read them.

It’s just politeness that you find. Polite eyes, a polite smile. And just like that, Karina’s words echo in your mind.

He might not be the guy for you.

So you push through the clogging of your throat, even if it hurts. And you smile back, as unbothered as you can muster. “Yeah, see you around.”

And then he’s walking away. For good.

This time leaving you with a chest that feels hollow, like he reached inside and scooped something out, and a face that’s too difficult to dry, because your tears keep falling.

And you realise something you never thought possible.

Mark Lee, the sweetest boy you know, just broke your heart.

taglist: @neotannies, @ppeachyttae, @hi00000234567, @markyosuh, @meowieshibal, @withlovemark, @haluenx, @leehaechie, @snapcracklen, @aliquidexnihilo-blog1, @cathamada, @hyusunn, @wachimingox, @14juno

𝓑  ⋆  BODY PARTS ノ zoro’s favorites on you and himself

Zoro is an ass man.

His palms glide along the small of your back before grabbing two handfuls of your supple ass, kneading the plushness as you ride him. He loves the way you feel in his grasp, the almost bruising hold serving as leverage to fuck you harder.

Beyond that, he could never keep his hands off of it when there’s downtime on the ship. Whenever you’re left alone, his hands will gravitate there or he’ll rest his head against your ass as he takes a mid-afternoon nap.

But truthfully? Zoro really loves your hands. He loves the way they fit into his when he’s fucking you into the mattress. He can’t help but groan whenever you tug his hair, claw at his back, or cradle his face whenever he’s pleasuring you.

And above all, he loves how gentle they are compared to his. Always sweet, forever soft, only his.

As for him? His favorite part of himself?

His mouth.

Arguably one of the strongest and most skilled aspects of his body, he’s able to cut down enemies with the sword gripped between his teeth in a fashion he’s never seen anyone successfully replicate. And somehow, it’s done wonders in the bedroom.

The way he can unravel you with a few swipes of his tongue, your body threading over his as he grips your hip, holding you steady as another wave of your orgasm comes crashing down. He knows he’s good with it and he’ll make sure to remind you any chance you need it.

𝓒  ⋆  CUM  ノ anything to do with cum 

When Zoro finishes, he comes a lot. It’s thick, milky white, and pumps out in steady ropes that never seem to stop. The taste is more metallic, as if the steel of his blades seeps into his body and lines everything with a finely honed sharpness. But it isn’t overly bitter, thanks to Sanji’s excellent cooking keeping his body well nourished. 

In the beginning, Zoro’s pull out game is as strong as he prides himself to be. But overtime, his will begins to fray at the seams whenever he buries himself in the pleasure between your thighs. He can’t help but fill you up until it’s leaking out of your pulsing entrance — a sight that only turns him on more.

Once Zoro has a taste of coming inside of you, he rarely likes to do it anywhere else. The sensation of you trembling and throbbing around him, desperately trying to milk his cock for all of its worth has him coming the hardest, unable to refuse your wishes.

That being said, Zoro will get into moods where he wants to stake his claim on you — covering your chest, pussy, and thighs with his cum. He’ll spread it over your nipples until you’re glistening with it, use it to finger you, maybe even have you eat it. He loves being filthy during sex, letting your bodies do what comes naturally. 

It brings out something possessive and primal within him, knowing that you’re his mate and no one else is able to touch you the way he does.

𝓓  ⋆  DIRTY SECRET ノ zoro’s dirty secrets

On some level, Zoro is a closeted pervert. He’s never had anyone to share these feelings and desires with so he’s shoved them down to a place where no one could access. Until you.

For instance, be wary of leaving your worn panties around unless you want him to ‘borrow’ them. He’s just curious, after all, he wants to explore your body even when you’re not in sight. He loves the way you smell and can’t help but steal a whiff. Blood rushes south at the shameful act, one he would normally associate with the lovesick cook yet here he is, indulging in your heavenly scent. 

Beyond that, he’s obsessed with your essence. It almost worries him how much he loves your taste. He’ll lick at the fabric, groaning into the cotton while he dreams of flattening his tongue along your slick, quivering entrance and lapping everything up before he makes you come all over his face.

When he finally has you, he’ll roughly grip your hips and pry open your thighs. Frustration and shame bubbles in his aching balls, desperate for a release only you can bring. Zoro hates how much you affect him and the thought makes him go a little rougher on you, but he knows you can take it.

Zoro buries his tongue deep within, groaning at your taste and eats you out like a starved man until you’re coming all over his face. He drinks it as if he was trying to get drunk, drowning in the intoxicating flavor until you’re both left dizzy.

You may be able to pull this secret out of him and once you do, he will be huffing your underwear while pounding into you with primal urgency.

𝓔 ⋆ EXPERIENCE ノ how experienced is zoro? does he know what he’s doing?

Zoro was never one to bother sleeping around. There was too much to do, his brain entirely focused on becoming stronger and honing his skills. He might’ve had grazes with intimacy, a drunken kiss here or there, but nothing concrete. Zoro doesn’t let his guard down for just anyone and it takes him a while to feel comfortable fully giving himself over to someone like that.

That’s why when Zoro first felt the pull to you, it derailed his thoughts, momentarily delaying his progress in becoming the world’s strongest swordsman. Suddenly, he couldn’t focus. His feelings spread like an infection and he wouldn’t be freed of this plague until he had his cock buried at the hilt of your cunt, learning the intricate ways of your body until you were crying out his name.

All his experiences come from you – for better or for worse.

𝓕 ⋆ FAVORITE POSITION

There are many different positions Zoro will fold you into, but nothing beats the sight of you when he’s got you pinned on your stomach, relentlessly thrusting into you until all you can manage is moaning nonstop with your fingers curled in the sheets. He’ll slow down eventually, loosely hooking his bicep around your neck until you’re secure in his lock and taking everything so beautifully. 

He loves taking you in prone bone, or even starting in doggy but the pleasure he’s giving you is too much for you to hold yourself up any longer. Zoro takes his time, gliding in and out while his lips graze your ear and fill it with praises of how good you're taking him.

Another one of his favorites is when you climb on top of him, straddling his waist and bouncing on his cock like you needed it to live. The view is amazing and he has access to every piece of you. From the way your tits bounce, the blissed out look on your face, and he’s able to grab your ass at his leisure – he’s hooked on it. 

Zoro loves to see you put in the work to feel good by using his body that he prides himself in. He spends hours every day to make it strong, sturdy, and gets off when you show it any appreciation. 

Letting go of control does something to his brain, neutralizes it until all he can focus on is the pleasure you’re giving him. Even when you get tired out, he doesn’t move you. He just grips your hips and snaps his own up into yours until you’re crying out his name and slumping against him. It makes him feel needed.

𝓗  ⋆ HAIR ノ how well groomed is he? does the carpet match the drapes?

Zoro’s happy trail leads down to a thick, green patch of coarse hair. He doesn’t do any upkeep with it on his own but if you insist on it, he will add it to his regime. He loves when you rub your fingers through it and his eye will flutter shut whenever you press your nose into it to take a whiff.

𝓘  ⋆ INTIMACY ノ how is he during the moment?

Sex isn’t meaningless to Zoro, it’s extremely intimate — intense. Whenever the two of you are alone, the air amplifies the feelings that bind you together until it drowns out the rest of the world around you.

Zoro is focused in the moment, his steely gaze sharp on you. He’s very observant in nature, expertly learning how to draw out every pleasure that will make you sing in pleasure. His knowledge of your body and its reactions is almost scary.

He enjoys eye contact, taking in every expression that paints your face in pleasure, getting lost in the way your eyes lose focus. Zoro can’t help but snap his hips harder when you try to close your eyes, bringing you back to him over and over again.

His hands, so used to violence and hardship, become careful as they roam your body, even when he’s taking you hard and fast. Calloused palms glide down your body as his cock nudges your deepest depths like he’s trying to reach your very core and stake his claim.

𝓙  ⋆ JACK OFF ノ masturbation headcanon

He doesn’t do it often, it’s something he’s prided himself on long before he met you. He knows how to push away sexual urges and focus on training to become the strongest.

If he absolutely needs to and you’re unavailable, he will tuck himself into a secluded spot and pump his cock until the issue goes away. If you’re a wanted pirate, he will use your bounty poster to further himself along until his cum paints the paper and drenches him in a sinful bliss. If not, the image of you moaning out his name is engrained into his memory and has him finishing all over his fist in no time.

He prefers to seek you out though, even though he’s not keen on initiating sex earlier in your relationship but sometimes the desire becomes so overwhelming the only way to cure it is to sink into your heavenly heat.

𝓚  ⋆ KINK ノ one or more of his kinks

Zoro has an incredible sense of smell, often able to locate booze by his nose alone so it’s no surprise he can do the same with you. Your scent drives him mad, especially after you’ve been lounging in the hot sun all day, smelling like the sea and your distinctively sweet musk.

He tries to restrain his thoughts, hold himself back while he trains on the deck nearby but the wind carries your aroma to him and he loses all sense. He’ll toss the weight down and throw you over his shoulder, dragging you somewhere private to drown in the scent he loves more than anything.

He also loves when you’re both covered in mixed sweat and essences after having sex, smelling like your beautiful self while also being coated with a sheen of him. It’s intoxicating. Don’t be surprised if his tongue darts out for a taste, gliding over your slick skin to quench his curiosity.

𝓛  ⋆ LOCATION ノ favorite places to do the do

He’s not much of an exhibitionist as it’s too vulnerable for him to do in public settings, opting to take you somewhere private. 

Tucked high above in the crows nest at night, Zoro feels safest here. It’s where he can take his time to explore your body and maybe he’ll let you explore his.

Fucking in odd places on the ship is also common as it’s hard to find privacy at times. The crew is busy partying in the aquarium bar? He’s whisking you into the hidden nook on the other side of the ship and taking you quickly.

One of the only times he becomes bold on the ship is when the crew goes on an excursion and leaves you two behind. He will surprise you by taking you in more open places since he knows you both still have to keep watch. If you’re docked at a town, he will take the opportunity to have you in his bunk and really take his time with you.

𝓜  ⋆ MOTIVATION ノ what turns him on, gets him going

Whenever you tease him or try to rile him up, it works. Every time. Even if you aren’t trying to lure him into bed, he will still fall for any playful whims you throw at him and feel his cock stir beneath his trousers at the thought of getting back at you. 

If you’re being bratty or running your mouth, all he can feel is the urge to fill it with something else until you’re satiated and back to your usual self. Fucking the attitude out of you is one of his favorite past times, watching yourself crack under the intensity of his thrusts will never tire him. Not when you’re clinging onto him and apologizing with tears of devotion shining in your eyes. 

This especially works whenever you two are sparring together. He loves the way your body moves, growing stronger alongside him as you train and try to take him down. Even when insults slip past your lips, he knows it’s only a matter of time before they turn into moans that sing him praises. He loves pinning you down and reminding you on why he’s set to be the strongest. This tends to turn into more cardio training for you both as it becomes a daily occurrence on the ship.

𝓝  ⋆ NO ノ something he wouldn’t do, turn offs

Nothing too physically or emotionally hurtful. He does enjoy getting rougher if the situation calls for it, but he would never want to bring any real harm to you. 

He also doesn’t want to share you. His body is tethered to yours, heart barring his soul to you and you alone. Adding another person into the mix wouldn’t sit well with him. If you suggest it, he might internalize it and wonder if he isn’t pleasing you. Zoro strongly dislikes feeling inadequate or weak, so this would be a touchy subject for him.

𝓞  ⋆ ORAL ノ preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

Loves to give. His happy place is burying his face in the sweetness between your thighs, lapping at your cunt until you’re weakly pushing his head away and begging for mercy. Even then, he may not relent, too busy spelling out his love for you with his greedy tongue against your overstimulated clit.

It takes him a while to get into receiving. 

But seeing you take his cock down his throat with watery eyes, practically pleading for more as you try to take him all in one go, empties every thought out of his head. He’s not used to receiving such pleasures and it feels a little odd to him at first, but through your reassurance and eagerness, he begins to change his mind and accept all you have to give him.

Loves 69 to compromise only because he knows you’ll cave to the pleasure of his tongue and moan against his cock instead of sucking it properly. Strong hands grip your supple thighs, lulling you closer with his tongue. He loves knowing he can overpower you with the precise flick of his tongue, unraveling you time after time until he gets his fill. Then, he supposes you can suck him off after stars burst behind your eyes. 

You sloppily take him in your mouth and gaze up at him through half lidded eyes, giving him the laziest blow job known to man and it’s the hottest sight he’s ever seen. After you’re all fucked out, it’s like you’re making out with his cock, nice and messy, just how he likes it.

𝓟  ⋆ PACE ノ is he fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

When you first started sleeping together, his movements would be sharp, slightly choppy until he found his rhythm. 

It’s more of a rarity for Zoro to enjoy you slowly and sensually due to life on the ship, so whenever he’s able to he will enjoy every moment and drag it out.

Slipping into your tight heat inch by inch, stretching you out on his cock until you’re arching into him with frustrated tears in your eyes. It feels tortuous but the soft look he has on his face makes it worth it.

He bottoms out and the pressure within his abdomen tightens into a coil. He loves to start off slow, to feel every sensation he can before he feels the urge to chase the high that only your overwhelming tight heat can bring him. He becomes relentless but he never takes it too far to hurt you. There’s a gentleness even to his roughness that leaves you both dizzy.

𝓠  ⋆ QUICKIE ノ his opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

For a while, he doesn’t view quickies as necessary and prefers to take you whenever you have ample time. But after the first encounter, he understands what a benefit it can be and becomes enthralled with taking you quick and dirty.

Like when he pins you against the wall after he’s had a few, panting against your neck as he fights the last shred of control he has left before kissing you with everything his body holds. It’s hard to find privacy on the ship and every little moment counts. 

Zoro covers your mouth to keep your moans at bay but does nothing to stop his own from spreading filth in your ear full of raspy and desperate praises. It may be quick and dirty but he’ll kiss your jaw so tenderly it gives your heart whiplash.

Or sometimes he’ll have you early mornings on watch. The sun barely begins to rise over the horizon before he pins you down against the mattress, filling you with his need. The crew hasn’t gotten up yet, but time is fleeting. 

He chases it away with the hurried pace he snaps his hips in, pushing into you deep enough to see stars. It’s been a long night and he’s a little tired, using the last bit of strength he has before he retires to his room soon for a short slumber with you by his side.

𝓡  ⋆ RISK ノ is he game to experiment? does he take risks? etc.

Following many moons that wax and wane with trust and respect, Zoro begins to grow more curious in bed after that fateful first time — a moment full of deep affection and love that blooms between your slotted bodies. 

And just like that, someone who has grown so rigidly, so disciplined, begins to unravel at the seams around you. 

Driven by instinct and the way you sweetly call out his name, he chases that feeling and lets it bring him to new heights. One of the very few places in life where he can let go, surrender, even just for a little bit.

It’s all about testing that boundary of trust, how deep does it run? Can you tie him up without him batting an eye? His sharp gaze sets on you, thoughtful but lethal as you kiss every inch of his restrained body, just knowing that you’re only going to bring him love and pleasure in ways he’d never dream about.

As long as he’s with you, he feels he can explore and experiment to your hearts content.

𝓢  ⋆ STAMINA ノ how many rounds can he go for? how long does he last?

This man has been training relentlessly, diligently for years. He’s never been known to rest, refuses to at times, so he can last for as long as you need. 

At first, he lasts extremely long to the point you’re worried he’s not feeling good. But after a vulnerable conversation, he reassures you that he’s just been holding himself back from coming too soon (edging himself) and wants you to feel as good as possible which has left you overstimulated many times.

Once he realizes he can come and keep your pleasure going, he’s an unstoppable force. 

𝓣  ⋆ TOYS ノ does he own toys? does he use them?

No, he wouldn’t be opposed to it but he would rather do the work himself. If it helps you get off while he fucks you then he’ll do whatever it takes so you can feel the pleasure surging through your body.  If you're into it, he may discover that he is too and can utilize many different toys to make you come undone.

He doesn’t like using toys for himself though. If you wanted him to then he might be open to trying it but he prefers feeling your body move against him. He loves the closeness of it all. 

𝓤  ⋆ UNFAIR ノ how much he likes to tease

Zoro enjoys teasing you, especially after you’ve spent so long flustering him. He knows how badly you need him, and can feel it rippling off of you in waves. 

He’s covert about it though. He flashes you smirks only you can catch, walks behind you so he can caress your lower back with his palm, and he’ll make sure he’s working out where you can see him — muscles rippling and all.

It's all a ruse to see you cling to him, bat your pretty eyes at him and whisk you away where you can get some alone time. He’s not above having you beg for him, oftentimes insisting you plead and voice your desires. Only then will he give you what you both want but he will make you work for it first.

𝓥 ⋆ VOLUME ノ how loud he are, what sounds he make, etc.

He’s not extremely loud but neither is he stone cold silent. Always lets out a noise of satisfaction as soon as he bottoms out, a low grunt fused with the word “fuck” that caresses your ear. 

When he’s close, groans rumble deep in his chest and tumble past his lips. He’ll either press his forehead against yours or bury his face in the crook of your neck letting out grunts, growls, swears, pants of your name.

Can be prone to whimper when he’s sleepy, tipsy, or injured. The pleasure spikes in his body and overpowers him, his lack of self control during these moments has the sound slipping past his lips. You’ll only get one though before he selfishly keeps the rest in but if you try hard enough, you may be able to draw them out.

When he’s really tired, Zoro doesn’t run his mouth at all but grunts and growls into yours in between kisses, swallowing back any moan that tries to breach the silence of the night.

𝓦  ⋆ WILD CARD ノ a random headcanon for the character

Zoro loves when you leave scratches down his back. Having you pinned beneath his broad body, clawing at his muscles as you desperately try to hold onto something has his hips stuttering, driving deeper into you. 

Scars on the back feel forbidden to the swordsman, but in the safety of your love, the taboo drives him forward. He knows the marks won’t last forever but carrying them for a few days at a time feels like an honor. 

When he works out on the deck and the wind caresses the sensitive flesh, it sends a ripple down his spine as he’s reminded of how he earned them. After your session, you coo at him softly and apologize for leaving your mark. He never finds it in him to care, stealing the rest of your remorse with a searing kiss that takes your breath away.

𝓧  ⋆ X - RAY ノ let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

Zoro’s a decent size, definitely grows a bit more when he’s hard but overall — it’s heavy. Even when he fills you up, you can hardly believe it all fits. The girth alone is enough to stretch you out, keep you compliant on his cock while he gets settled inside of you.

The tanned length splits you open, nudging the sensitive spot deep inside of you like he’s made for you. The vein that runs along the side of his cock pulses along your walls, blood pumping in tune with his need.

His balls are the heaviest bit, full of neglect and inexperience. Extremely sensitive whenever you fondle them, especially if you try to suck them in your mouth. 

𝓨  ⋆ YEARNING ノ how high is his sex drive?

Not high but he’s new to this. Zoro hasn’t ever had this sense of intimacy with anyone in his life. It takes awhile for him to seek you out for sex, to initiate at a time you haven’t shown any obvious hints that you’re horny. Anytime you need it, he is ready to indulge.

His devotion steers his sex drive. It only increases as you spend more time together and you’ve shown him the benefits of sex.

After he comes, he experiences a brief period of feeling dazed out from the bliss before it helps reset his body, gaining clarity from the explosive release.

It gets to a point where he feels he needs to cleanse himself once a day and revels in having you come undone for him. It helps him feel close and safe, knowing you’re by his side until the end of time.

𝓩  ⋆ ZZZ ノ how quickly he fall asleep afterwards

He prefers taking a nap after the activity, having you curl up in his arms and cling to him as your bodies continue to come down. 

He won’t sleep until he knows you’re okay. If you need something, it goes back to aftercare and ensures you are taken care of. He cares deeply for your wellbeing and will try his best to make sure you feel the affection he holds for you, even if he isn’t the best at saying it.