#marking out

Yota Tsuji is a STAR.

He's bad ass and powerful, handsome as hell, and the camera loves him.

AS DO I.

I'm so captivated watching him because he emotes so strongly, and every move he makes so clearly tells part of the story. You can't help but be sucked in and transfixed!!!! I love it.

#MarkOutCity! OMG! I about LOST IT when Lucien said this on The Originals!

‘mark and his gf making out hard and the two of them get turned on but the gf gets so shy and all end up so fluffy please💖’

A/N: I rlly hope Mark isn’t bored enough in the tour bus to go searching his name too extensively and end up here.... Anyway, I clearly couldn't think of a name so. Enjoy

Word Count: 720

Soft brushes and gentle passes of pink lips ghosting over your own before pulling back to reveal a marvelous smile. A chastising whine leaves you, breathy and soft, lashes fluttering in flattery to persuade his lips back to your own. He chuckles softly, a warm sound that makes you grin, the flushed apples of your cheeks burning.

“What?” he askes lowly, a teasing lilt to his voice to match his grin.

Your hands that’d gripped either side of his flannel pull, hoping to take matters into your own hands since he wanted to be teasing.

“You,” you murmur, almost as if to yourself.

Closing the gap once more, his lips find yours, melding together in a warmth that soon transgresses to a fiery passion. Your hands move to press against his chest, a muffled sound leaving you at his sudden fierceness. Mark’s fingers are woven into the back of your hair, cradling your head in a subconsciously controlling manner. He was always like this, chaste and fleeting touches suddenly morphing into heavy and suggestive passes. Perhaps it was due to his lack of experience. His transitions were far and few, the heartbeat of the moment seeming to skip a few beats before pounding in either of your chests. His hand slid to cradle your jaw, drawing back for a moment as his nose brushes yours before returning.  His lips tasted like strawberries and syrup, no doubt from the sugary brunch the two of you had enjoyed. Your brows jumped slightly as his tongue laved at your bottom lip momentarily, coaxing your lips to grant him wider access, impatient. His teeth graze your plus bottom lip before he sucks upon it gently with a small tug. Leaning into his touch, your hands fist the front of his shirt.

He’s impatient, able to easily get carried away. Though, you’re not much better... You’re not even sure how it happens, but you’ve found yourself on top of you, hands on his chest, your waist between his legs. Perhaps you’d pushed him over- Or maybe just followed him. His hands are on your forearms, coaxing you forward, eager to reconnect your lips. You don’t give him what he wants though, letting your swollen lips fall to his neck, exposed and vulnerable. His reaction’s immediate, eyes scrunching shut before a shaky breath leaves him. His hands travel down your figure, pulling you impossibly closer.

He can feel himself hardening, his sweatpants doing little to conceal his uninvited friend. Though... Maybe his friend isn’t completely unwarranted. A bit hesitantly, he lets his nimble fingers hook in your front belt loops, pulling your pelvis flush with his own as he lets out a groan. You draw back, leaving the blossoming mark upon his neck unfinished as he grinds against your gently for whatever friction he can salvage.

“M-Mark...”

His hands fly back immediately once he sees your expression, cupping your cheeks worriedly as his frantic gaze searches your own. His beady gaze feels too intense and you have to tear yourself away, feeling bashful.

“I’m sorry,” you begin, looking downward.

Attempting to sit up, he props himself up on his elbows as you lift yourself from being flush with you.

“W-What is it?”

You sit back on your haunches, giving him space to sit up himself.

“It’s just... a lot-”

Seeming to catch your breath, Mark let’s his lips part as his head nods in understands, his gaze casting to the side. He bites his lip in thought, turning a tad sheepish at having been too consumed in the moment.

“I shouldn’t have-”

He’s lost for words, not wanting to be direct in addressing his actions, but not knowing how to be discreet either.

“I’m just not ready for that-” you murmur, brushing your hair out of your face out of habit.

“Me neither,” he puffs out in a light-hearted manner.

It’s a white lie, but he hopes it’ll make you feel better.

“I’m sorry,” he presses, “I was just uh...”

i fucking love him.