#FISH KNIFE IS REAL…. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

draxula · 2 months ago

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oh, how i'd kill... | b. barnes

'...To see you again."

pairing: bucky barnes x blackwidow!reader

word count: 4.1k

warnings: mentions of torture and distress. canon typical violence. possible timeline errors with ca:tws. possible thunderbolts* spoiler at end if you haven’t seen it yet.

summary: a stolen widow tasked with accompanying the soldier, the two of you were together more than not. soft memories of a softer widow haunt his dreams. would he ever see you again?

author’s note: past memories in italics. another one thank u.

There were things that haunted him.

Anyone in his position would be followed down by their wrong doings. His actions and choices, even if not his own, would chase him to the ends of the Earth, not relenting until they had him by the throat. Or until the end of time. Till he took his very last breath.

One simply didn’t forget all the atrocities one committed - not in this lifetime and maybe not even in the next. At least not the extent of the ones he was guilty of. Blood soaked his hands. Even years after the mantle of the Winter Soldier had been striped, he felt he could never quite clean himself of it.

He could scrub and scrub until his hand went raw and his skin broke open. He would pick and clean between the plating of his replacement arm, searching for blood that once got caught between the divots. The action is rough and violent, the sturdy material of the plates being the only thing stopping him from ripping it to pieces.

He could never get clean enough.

In the after hours of their latest mission, he can only find himself feeling disgusted.His metal digits flex once and then twice as if checking to see if it is still real. It feels heavy on the left side of his body, weighing him down both figuratively and literally.

Somewhere from down the hall, Walker calls for him. “Come on, man. We gotta debrief and I want to go to bed. You’re keeping us all up.”

“You’re going to break something if you keep doing it that way.” There’s a voice from his left. It continues to talk at him as it sits besides him. “And if you do, we’re both going to be in trouble.”

He pauses in the middle of what he had been doing, removing the knife from in between the platings of his arm. The weapon remains tightly locked between his fingers for a moment or two longer than it should before lowering it. Not a threat. At least not one to him.

And he can at least recognize that you are not one in some regards.

With an outstretched hand, you wait as patiently as you can for him to place his in your own. After a moment of staring, he relents, gently resting his left wrist in the palm of your hand. He’s mindful of the pressure and of the weight behind it. The metal limb was more than enough to throw his own center of gravity off. It would be more than enough to cause some discomfort to your hand, even with him simply resting on you.

“You should be more careful.” Your voice is heavy in his ear. Your accent doesn’t quite fit your face - almost as if even that has been indoctrinated into you as well.

He’s not particularly listening to you. Even if he was, he does a decent enough job of looking uninterested.

Careful wasn’t a word in his dictionary. He could be discreet. He could be stealthy. But he couldn’t afraid to be careful at times. As long as the job got done, it didn’t really matter how it came to be. A few bumps and bruises were going to little to deter him - besides he has been through far worse over his lifetime.

You fish through your pockets, bringing up a rag to begin wiping at the metal, carefully running the fabric between the grooves in his arm. The smell is a rotten one, a mixture of both dried blood and oil to keep his arm lubed. You try your best not to let your upper lip curl up in disgust, choking back a cough as you do so.

“Does that mask of yours have scent blockers?”

“No.”

That causes you to lift your gaze up, watching him with careful intent. It wasn’t like him to have a conversation with you - let alone acknowledge anything you had said. There were far and few time in between the two of you even shared words. It was always short and two the point. For some reason, one this day, he has chosen to humor your rather useless question.

“I know that they wouldn’t.” You say, continuing your work. “I don’t think they would spend that kind of money on you or me.”

The Winter Soldier isn’t sure what you expect from him. Do you want him to laugh and chuckle at your joke or just brush it off like you had said nothing to him. Not that he even thought himself capable of those emotions anymore. So instead, he opts to sit in silence, watching as you tend to your work.

The movements of your hands are uncharacteristically gentle for someone like you. He has seen those very hands break bones without much effort. He has seen them choke the life out of several people without much of a second thought. He has witness them drip with blood, only to be wiped clean as if nothing happened in the first place.

The duality of your touch is not lost on him.

“There - all better.” You have cleaned him as well as you feel like you can. The cloth in your hand is practically drenched in both fresh and dried blood. There’s still a small crinkle to your nose, looking slightly disgusted by it, but you don’t have much else to say on the matter.

None of this was his fault.

Yelena only brings back those bitter memories.

Her suit is different. Not the same stark black that he can vaguely make out in his more pleasant dreams. More of a merc than a true widow, there are still some differences and similarities.

In those first few days of working together, he tried not to stare too much or too hard. Not that he really cared if anyone caught him. It would be far too easy to brush it off as him just being his usual grumpy self.

There are brief thoughts of if she knew you oe nor. Thought of if he brought you up, would she be able to confidently say she had any recollection of you. Then again you were a war prize for H.Y.D.R.A. Taken from a mission gone sour, you never returned to the Red Room. Their trackers were replaced with new ones. You were as effectively hidden as you could be.

Then there was the fact he could never bring himself to ask. Widows didn’t exactly live the most pleasant of lives. At least, he knew yours hadn’t been so the same had to go for everyone else.

Underneath it all are also the fears that you might not be alive after all. After that last mission had go horribly wrong, after his defection, he could only imagine that had not been kind to you. You would have been severely punished for your failure.

He knew what his own captors were capable of. He had vivid flashbacks to being held down, force to withstand torture. Forced to have his memory manipulated and replaced.

It kept him up late into the night that he never went looking for you. Now when he thought back on it, he knew he should have. The one person who showed him the smallest shred of kindness in those dark times had been so easily forgotten and tossed to the side.

He didn’t particularly enjoy lingering on those thoughts.

“Bucky.” His voice comes from somewhere to your side.

Your head whips to face him, brows pinching down together in thought. “What?”

There’s a brief look of confusion, his eyes going misty as they flicker around. It’s clear he’s searching for something. Maybe not something tangible but something looked far away in the back of his mind. The look disappears just as quickly as it had appeared, shaking his head from side to side as if to rid himself of the thought.

You chew quietly on the inside of your cheek, trying to piece together the meaning behind his sudden outburst. Bucky was a name - that much you knew. A rather unique one you could say you had never heard before.

“Is that someone you know?”

The Winter Soldier doesn’t response, frozen in place. His attention is back forwards, watching the highway with his usual intensity. There’s a subtle twitch of his brows downward, unconsciously reacting to your questioning.

“Is that your name?” Is your next question.

Despite what little information you did have on him, you knew no one would be named Winter or Soldier. It was almost tacky to put those two together. As cruel as life had been to you, you expected no one in their right mind would name their child that. Or maybe they would. H.Y.D.R.A. hadn’t been setting high standards for your perception of others.

This time his head turns to face you again. There’s a look of recognition that crosses his face. Even with his mask on, you can tell his expression as shifted underneath it, looking at you expectantly.

“That’s your name.” You say it a bit more firmly this time.

His brows jump up in what can only be described as surprise. The recognition turns into something more. Familiarity is what you eventually settle on. The confirmation seems to do something for him. As if he has been doubting why that name has been stuck in his head for so long. Ever since his run in with the Captain.

“Bucky.” You say, trying the name out for yourself. As odd as it feels on your tongue, it sounds so much better than the other thins you have been stuck with calling him. It feels softer. Gentler. Not all that befitting of the man armed to the teeth beside you.

“You know I’ve never really liked calling you Soldier.” You say, shifting a bit so you’re lying a little more comfortable on your stomach.

He doesn’t make any signs that he’s acknowledge your comment. He merely shifts himself around as well, adjusting the butt of the rifle on his shoulders. He does take the smallest of moments to look at you out from the corner of his eye. You aren’t paying him attention anymore either, merely focusing your gaze through your binoculars. There’s a soft upturn to your smile. It’s a soft expression that fits so naturally on your face.

“Bucky suits you.”

“Bucky.”

It takes him a moment before he’ll lift his head up from what he was reading. Mission reports of their last outing. Going over things helped keep his mind clear and his hands busy. “Yelena.”

“You’re going to owe me the favor of a lifetime.”

He feels his brows pinch together, unsure of what exactly she means by that. He couldn’t quite think of anything she could do that result in him owing her such a massive favor. If anything, it was more like she owed him one.

Was it not him that drug her out from the last situation she was in? If it wasn’t for him, she would have been stuck crushed under fallen rubble, left to die from the pressure of it on her lungs.

“I’m not sure what there is I could owe you for.” He mutters, turning his attention back to the tablet in hand.

Not that he really wanted to owe anyone anything. It wasn’t a feeling he particularly enjoyed. He had spent the majority of his life having to answer to the whims of another. The Void had brought back those thoughts in full force (as much as he denied having any trauma rooms to wade through.)

“You’ll see.”

The Soldier lifts his head up, gaze flickering from the knife in his hand. He’s been quietly whittling away at a stick in his other, biding his time as the two of you wait. It’s always a grueling process. If the task had been given to anyone else, they might have split and left long ago.

The two of you had unfortunately been trained for things like this. Molded and formed into the definition of weapons. Patience wasn’t lost on neither you or him. Long days and nights could be spent hiding in the shadows and neither of you would have it in you to complain. Not that you had much of a choice. Biding your time was the better option, forced into keeping your opinions and thoughts to yourself.

He doesn’t make a move to acknowledge whatever it is you’re getting on about. For a widow, you were more talkative than he would have first imagined one to be. Whatever self thinking you have has yet to be beaten out of you. No matter how many times they tied you down, broke your fingers or ripped nails from their fleshy beds, you remind just as uncharacteristically vibrant as ever.

Compared to you, his own will felt weak at times. Like a caged dog beaten back into its corner, he found it baffling that you could stay so optimistic given your situation. Maybe you felt you couldn’t afford to completely bend the knee to the powers that be. They couldn’t strip you of everything you were worth. That would be giving them too much power over you.

Your gaze eventually meets his, giving him the softest of smiles. Your nose is a little more crooked then what he remembers. There’s signs of a healing bruises across the bridge of it, a scar following a jagged pattern across your flesh. Despite it, you still manage to give him the softest of looks, wincing ever so slightly as your skin stretches and pulls against itself.

The fingers on your one hand look a little more twisted as well. Two are bandaged tightly together in a makeshift splint, attempting to keep whatever inflammation there is down. Unsurprisingly, your dominant hand remains relatively untouched, mindful of the face it would be needed in order to complete the job placed at your feet.

“You sure do stare a lot.”

He quickly looks away, now staring down at his feet.

He does find himself curious to what it is your getting at. Though he doesn’t vocalize that in the slightest. A man of few words ever since the day the two of you had been paired together. You were less of a handler and more of a companion. Less of a companion and more of a failsafe if things ever got too out of hand. Someone to put the rapid dog down if he ever managed to tug too hard at his leash.

You recognize the look on his face to be wonder. There’s something almost childlike about him. A genuine curiosity for the world around him and specifically you.

“I just have this gut feeling is all.” You say. There wasn’t any need for you to explain it anymore. Not that you felt he was going to press you for any more.

Things did seem to be taking a rather interesting turn for him.

That Captain America seemed to have woken up something long since dormant in the Soldier and that felt like nothing short of a step in the right direction for him. There were brief flashes of the man you liked to imagine he was before all of this. Before the wrong people got their hands on him.

And if that meant you had to suffer in his place, you would opt for that. What did you have waiting out there for you?

“Bucky.” His name comes out so sweetly. It sounds like honey dripping.

He can feel his muscles tense up beneath his shirt, his legs freezing midstep. That voice. It would whisper to him softly in the middle of the night, between all the nightmares and horrid thought. A soft reminder that there had been some sort of light in all that darkness. Whatever that meant for someone like him

At first, he can’t bring himself to turn around. He’s sure he has to be imaging things. His head would do that too him every so often. It would bring up less than fond thoughts in the middle of the day, reminding him of things at the lowest point of his life. As much as he continued to heal and improve, there were still some things he couldn’t quite shake.

He felt it was just his imagination playing tricks on him again.

He’s put it off for as long as he can. After a baited breath, he finally manages to bring himself to turn on his heels. His gaze remains down at the floor for a moment before finally lifting up. And when he does? He feels as if his breath has been sucked right out of his lungs.

There you are, smiling at him.

It’s that same damn smile you flashed him time and time again. It looks gentler than it ever has before. You look as if you have finally found some sort of peace in your own life. Your shoulders don’t look nearly as heavy and your posture isn’t as tense as he remembers.

The widow jumpsuit is now replaced with every day clothing. You look comfortable. Relaxed even. It’s a look he can confidently say is deserving. Peace looked good on you.

The emotions he feels deep within his gut isn’t something he can find a word for at first. He eventually settles on relief. You are alive and well. No broken bones. No visible bruises. No major limbs are missing. You look to be in one piece. His gaze does eventually find the small scar across the bridge of your nose, crinkling his own up in a small subconscious response.

“Hey.”

It’s so stupid that a simple ‘hey’ is all he can bring himself to say. He wants to say how he’s happy to see you. That he’s thought about you almost every day since the last time he saw you. A widow that was far too soft and kind to him and for her own good. A widow who got herself in trouble for not keeping him on a tighter leash.

And then? You laugh at him. You laugh at him. It leaves him even more speechless than before. “That’s all you have to say to me?”

It’s around now that Bucky realizes the two of you have been surprisingly left alone. Yelena has opted to give the two of you some privacy. She has successfully manage to corral everyone else out of the room.

These sort of reunions were better to be done without the prying eyes of others. Especially the likes of John and Alexei. As much as she wanted to see how this all plated out, she could also recognize the importance of it. Later, she would give him hell for how his jaw partially dropped open at the sight of you. The way his shoulders visibly relaced. The soft breath of relief that left him at the time was laughable.

“You look…Good.”

You laugh even harder at him this time. The sound is enough to shake your body. “You’ve never been good at talking.”

He knew that was nothing short of the truth. In what memories he held of you, he had never done much of the talking. The mask prevented him for it at times. The muffled sounds he made didn’t make for much conversation and you opted to fill the silence with your own voice in his stead. Now that he has the free will to say whatever it is that he wants, he can’t quite find the words he’s searching for.

“You look good too, Bucky. You look healthy. Happy.” You say it with such sincerity. Like you are truly glad to see that he is in one piece and in as much peace as he could possibly be.

He takes a small step towards you and then takes one more. It’s a timid action. The movements are almost scarily unlike him in the way he approaches you. He treats it as if you are some fragile animal backed into a corner. Like you might tuck tail and run from him whenever the chance is presented to you.

Not that you had ever truly flinched away from him.

There had been a time or two where he lashed out at you, metal hand reaching for whatever clothing or hand it could get ahold of. There were far and few times you ever believed he would truly hurt you. Even in those moments as he held you down, as you fought back against him with every ounce of strength, you knew it wasn’t him talking. The Winter Soldier would win on some days.

Now you knew that you had little to fear from him.

In what communication you had with Yelena, Bucky was as well rounded of a person as he could be. Even with all his trauma and his pain, he was functioning as best as he possibly could. Not that the standards were set very high. What sort of standard could be held for a former assassin.

“Oh, come on. Don’t look at me like that.”

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He realizes he has been staring at you a little too long. But who could blame him? For all intents and purposes, it was easier for him to believe that he was just seeing things. That his mind was simply making up that you were truly standing in front of him.

He would never admit it to the others but those rooms in the Void, one of them held vivid memories of you. Your gentle smile suddenly turning sour. They way your eyes went wide as you forced yourself between him and your handlers. It was your fault, you would plead. There was no reason for him to take the blame - not this time.

In those days, it didn’t matter who’s shoulder the blame fell on as long as someone answered to it.

That day, played over and over again by the Void, it had been you. You were snatched up under the arms, legs limp beneath you as you were dragged only but a few feet away from him. This would be a reminder. The first hit against you landed in the dead center of your face. It had been loud, the sound of cartilage snapping rang in his ears even days later. Despite the way blood ran down your face, you would nor waver or budge. You would take hit after hit without complaint.

“I’m sorry.”

“I am too.” You say back to him.

He can’t find what ever reason you would have to be apologizing to him. He should be the one begging for forgiveness. He didn’t go looking for you. Not that he was sure where to even begin looking for you. The one person that held some other type of control over him, other than his captors, was you. You would have been tucked somewhere far faraway from him. Had he gone looking, what would they have done.

Perhaps you wouldn’t be standing in front of him.

“Yelena tells me you’re an Avenger now.” You say, this time taking a step towards him. “That’s a big promotion.”

He gives you a nervous smile. His best attempt at one anyway. “Someone has to do it.”

“And that job falls to you?”

“I’ve had worse.”

You let out another chuckle. “It’s definitely a step up. The pay has got to be better too.”

Bucky thinks to himself for a moment or two, tapping his food against the ground in quite contemplation. It’s an anxious action, trying to self soothe as he debates his choices. Yelena couldn’t have brought you all this way for nothing. Hell, he wasn’t even sure where you called home. There was not telling how far you had traveled just for him to stammer over his words.

“Are you hungry?” He asks. It’s a clumsy question. After the words leave his lips, he feels as if he has just asked something rhetorical.

“I could eat.”

“Want to go get dinner?”

“With you?”

“Yeah…Yeah, with me.”

You smile once more, your head lazily tilting to the side. The expression you wear is almost unsettling. That look shouldn’t be reserved for someone like him. Not for someone who has committed the crimes that he has. Not for someone that once pulled your hair and busted your lip out of an anger that was not his own. How could you afford to continue being so soft with him.

“Yeah, I would love to.” You hold a hand out to him. “It would be nice to get to know this Bucky.”

And he, despite it all, despite all his failures and feelings, places his hand in your own.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes angst #thunderbolts #thunderbolts bucky #yelena belova #john walker #thunderbolts has me in a chokehold

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cece693 · 3 months ago

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So, I got this silly idea where Pamela Voorhees manipulates the male reader into being Jason's caretaker, because (bless her soul) she knows she won't be here forever. So, while giving this male reader attention and 'motherly' love, she unknowingly gives Jason a bride. And because the male reader is so preconditioned to tend to another person they're like 'okay. This guy is definitely crazy but also kinda hot...' So yeah, this idea is out there, but I like it. Hope you do too!

NEW CAREGIVER.... (AND LOVER)

pairing: jason voorhees x male reader tags: reader is a runaway, shitty home, what else can I say, Pamela is a scheming lady, but you get Jason, so is that too bad???, nah didn't think so, fluff

The moon was an indifferent coin above the highway the night you ran—bare-footed, half-blind with tears, flinching at every blast of a passing horn. Home had never deserved the name; it was a house of slurred curses and shattered dishes, a place where love arrived in bruises. When you finally collapsed at the treeline of Crystal Lake, you expected the cold or coyotes to finish what your father started.

Instead, you woke beneath a patchwork quilt that smelled of cedar and lavender water. An elderly woman sat knitting beside a pot-bellied stove, her smile warm yet oddly knowing, as though she’d been waiting for you.

“I’m Pamela,” she said, voice soft as cattail down. “Pamela Voorhees. You’re safe here, dear boy.” It took you only a day to discover what here meant—Camp Crystal Lake. Pamela called the place a sanctuary and grave in the same breath, yet with an air of how a person spoke of cathedrals.

Mrs. Voorhees’s hospitality tasted like something you’d forgotten was real. She mended the splits in your soles with neat whip-stitches, pressed warm cornbread into your palms, and brushed the tangles from your hair while you dozed by the window. But comfort was only half her gift; the other half was preparation.

“The forest isn’t cruel,” she instructed. “but it is indifferent. If you wish to protect someone in these woods, you must become its equal.” You learned to tread silently through the forest, to smell rain before clouds formed.

“Some wounds,” she murmured, gaze faraway, “don’t bleed red. Treat them anyway.” You practiced on burlap dolls, then raccoon corpses you found tangled in old fishing net. Your stitches grew beautiful and grotesque all at once.

“He’s a growing boy,” Pamela said, ladling venison stew into a third bowl you placed reverently at the empty seat. You’d glance at the untouched spoon and feel a prickle behind the eyes, as if someone watched from the tree line, salivating at the thyme-tinged broth.

You never dared ask why she trained you with the severity of a drill sergeant, only for whom. However, she simply answered with a wistful pat to your cheek: “In time, you’ll meet my Jason.”

Late spring blurred into summer when things irrevocably changed. Lightning split the August sky when a group of camp counselors returned, laughing with guitars and bottles. Pamela’s knitting paused mid-row. The smile she gave you was sad yet resolute: “Stay inside, dear. Boil water. Fold bandages. Wait for me.” Then she slipped into the trees with a hunting knife and a resolve that glinted like frost on iron.

You did not see her alive again.

When dawn paled the lake, the forest stank of metal and rain-damp carnage. You stumbled upon her body by the generator shack—head missing, cardigan soaked black, her eyes forever spared the horror of what she’d done and what had been done to her. Grief tore every stitch she’d sewn into you. You buried what you could beneath a stand of birches, whispering a prayer you half-remembered from a childhood chapel, though God had never done either of you favors.

The sensible thing would be to leave.

But you stayed.

Grief motivated you to continue with your rituals. Keeping the cottage immaculate, preserving her collection of knitted sweaters, sharpening the kitchen knives every Sunday. Nights, you dreamed of water lapping at rotten docks; of a child’s gurgling sobs just beyond the tree line. Then the gifts began:

A butchered stag laid across the porch like an altar offering.

A jar of marigolds—roots, soil and all—placed beside your pillow.

Heavy boot-prints circling the cabin at night, too large for any man you knew.

The first snow had not yet melted when you finally met him. You heard something massive wading ashore, yet before you could grab the hatchet—you froze.

He wasn't a kid, defenseless and weak as Pamela had hinted at. Instead, he loomed in the doorway: a towering figure in mold-streaked coveralls, burlap sack knotted over his head. One eye—wide, milk-blue, yet oddly innocent—studied you. In his fist dripped a wood axe, but he made no move to raise it.

Instinct overrode terror. “You’re hurt,” you whispered, noticing the gash bisecting his shoulder. You reached for the first-aid kit Pamela insisted stay stocked. He flinched yet allowed it, gaze following your every motion the way a half-feral dog watches the only hand that feeds it.

When you finished bandaging, you pressed a palm to his chest. “Jason?”

The name left your tongue like an invocation. The giant’s breathing hitched; then slowly, he retrieved a tarnished locket from inside his shirt—Pamela’s, the same oval cameo she once pressed into your palm for “safekeeping.” Two photographs faced one another: baby Jason…and now, tucked beside it, you.

Pamela had written your name beneath the picture, shaky but intent.

Everything clicked: the chores, the sewing lessons, the knife work, the rules. She’d been fashioning you into more than a ward. You were the keeper of her legacy, the caretaker—the bride—for the son who lived beyond death.

Jason remained mute, but devotion needs no dialogue. You learned his language in nods and tilts of that burlap-covered head: hunger, pain, agitation when strangers trespassed. He shadowed you while you cooked, his hulking frame squeezed into the doorway like a child desperate not to be left out. When you laid a sweater—Pamela’s favorite blue one—across his shoulders, enormous fingers fumbled with the buttons until you guided them.

Nights grew strangely gentle. He’d sit cross-legged by the hearth while you read aloud from Pamela’s brittle prayer book, big head tilting at the cadence of your voice. One evening flames spat sparks; you startled, and Jason’s arm swept you behind him in reflex as if flesh were expendable, you were not. The gesture shocked warmth into your marrow.

And yes, there were killings. Outsiders who trespassed, teens seeking thrills—they vanished beneath the frozen lake or hung like ornaments from the pines. You cleaned the machetes afterward, murmuring that he’d done “well.” Morality blurred; love is an elegantly cruel tutor.

#x male reader #male reader #slasher fandom #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #jason vorhees imagine #jason voorhees x male reader #jason voorhes x reader #jason voorhees x you #jason vorhees x reader #friday the 13th #pamela voorhees #friday the thirteenth #friday 13th #slasher fanfiction #slasher x male reader #slasher movies #slasher community

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smileysuh · 2 years ago

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real talk

🌙 starring. Mark Lee x afab!Reader

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

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

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 19.4k

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

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

One:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?” Mark asks.

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

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

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

Two

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too many to count,” you giggle.

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

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

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

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

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

Three

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Want some?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Erotica.”

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

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

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

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

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

Four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” you grin. “And why’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Does it fit because I’m cute?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I need a tattoo tour,” you insist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you sound so shocked?”

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

“I’m really not,” Mark admits.

“Even before your last ex?”

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

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

This gossip keeps getting juicier and juicier.

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

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

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

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

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

“Then what’s your type?”

“Expo girls.”

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

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

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

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

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

Five

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

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

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

“Hi,” Mark says, drawing your attention.

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

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

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

“All of it?” Mark suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You too.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Got a hot date?”

“What?” Mark looks up.

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

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

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

“I told you she’s not for beginners.”

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

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

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

“Ouch, dude.”

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

“Deal.”

Six

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So… Netflix?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let's do it.”

“Really? You’re down?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like… do you wanna cuddle?”

“If you want to, I’d be up for that.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You good?” he prompts.

“Uh huh. Just thinking.”

“About?”

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

“Hopefully busy.”

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

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

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

“Mentioned it once or twice.”

“All good things, I hope?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we… can you kiss me again?”

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

No one has ever kissed you like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How much do you like this line chef?

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

What is going on?!

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

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Seven

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you’ve got him practically bewitched.

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

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

“Oh, hi,” you grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eight

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her favourite plant?” you grin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you a boobs man, Mark?”

“I mean… who isn’t?”

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

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

“I want to take my shirt off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers.

“You think so?”

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck, he feels so good-

Has anyone ever felt this good?

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

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

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

“What if I want this?”

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

“Make an exception?” you plead.

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

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

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

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

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

“You are?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah-” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

“Don’t have to eat me out-”

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please,” you nod.

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

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

“Yeah-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I uh… I need to hear you say yes.”

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

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

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

“You feel so good,” Mark groans.

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

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

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

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

“Want you to cum,” you tell him.

“Yeah?”

“Please- want you to fill me up-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nine

“So did you do it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Duh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like something a pussy would say.”

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

“And when you don’t make her cum?”

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

Ten

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Morning, puppy boy,” you laugh.

“Hungry,” Mark whispers.

“Hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark laughs. “You got it.”

Eleven

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

“What? No.”

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

“We’re having fun.”

“Fun like two times? Three?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why? Is your pride hurt?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twelve

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe…”

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

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

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

“What if I don’t drink it?”

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

“Okay, fine. Just for you, though.”

Mark grins as he hands you the glass.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? Why?” Jungwoo whines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thirteen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark swallows thickly while watching you do this.

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

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

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

“My turn?”

“I wanna suck on your fingers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can never say no to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bedroom?” he suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure you want this?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, Mark can’t say no to you.

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

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

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

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

Fuck. This is becoming a problem.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fourteen

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

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

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

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

“Breakfast?” You perk up.

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

“Like… me?”

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

“Yeah, but… sex is nice, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

Fifteen

Since the ‘Christmas’ party, Mark’s been wanting to broach the subject of Jaehyun with you, but in the handful of times he’s slept over with you since then, it’s just never come up.

Today, watching Jaehyun talk with you by the bar, the question is fresh on Mark’s mind, and he only has one person he can justifiably ask about it.

“So… how close are Jae and y/n?”

“Hmm?” Hyuck looks up from the burger he’s stacking. “Oh, those two? Pretty close.”

Mark groans at the lack of detail. “Did they ever date?”

“I think she’s definitely his work crush. Pretty sure he’s asked her out a few times, but I don’t know if she realized it was a date sort of thing.” Hyuck laughs to himself. “I actually walked in on him asking her out around Halloween, but I think she thought it was a group idea. She rejected him though.”

“Looks like he hasn’t taken the hint,” Mark says, mouth forming a firm line.

“Nah, Jae has a pretty big ego. I mean, you’ve seen his face. He’s not used to rejection, it doesn’t compute for him.”

Mark doesn’t say anything, he simply goes back to the alfredo he’s cooking. But it becomes clear that Hyuck doesn’t want to let this go.

“You’re jealous, aren’t you, Marky boy?”

“No.”

“Yes, you totally are,” Hyuck grins. “How long have you and Sunshine been seeing each other now?”

“Like… three weeks? A month almost?”

“Have you talked about being exclusive or anything?”

“Not really.”

Hyuck rolls his eyes. “It’s a yes or a no, Mark. There’s no ‘not really,’ when it comes to ‘the talk.’”

“No, we haven’t talked about it,” Mark admits with a sigh.

“Sounds like something you want though, right?” Hyuck presses.

“I thought I said I wasn’t going to talk to you about this anymore.”

“You’re the one who brought up Jae,” Hyuck points out, raising his hands in mock defense.

Mark supposes Hyuck is right about that. He’s been considering defining the relationship recently- thinking about how a label could offer you safety, stability, things that are needed to help you relax.

But now, the label transcends the use for comfortability and cumming, it almost feels needed.

You’re hot. Mark knows that. He sees the way people hit on you every day while you’re working. At first, he’d been okay with it- but now, he thinks maybe he needs something more. Maybe he needs the comfort of knowing that you’re taken, by him.

He’s not the type to feel insecure, and he’s not even sure that insecurity is the right word for what he’s feeling.

All Mark knows, is that he wants to get to the next level with you, and he’s going to pull up his big boy pants to finally do it.

Sixteen

You’ve been at home for a few hours, having been cut from work early since it was a slow day, and you’re a little surprised when Mark calls you around dinner time.

“Hey you,” you grin, collapsing onto your bed to give Mark your full focus.

“Whatcha doin?” he asks.

“Just sitting here, was thinking of watching a movie. How about you? Just got off work?”

“Yeah, in a minute, just taking a vape break first. I was thinking maybe you’d let me see you when I’m off?”

“Definitely, you know my door is always open for you. But I should warn you, I have literally nothing in my fridge.”

“That’s okay, I’ll make your favourite and bring takeout,” Mark assures you. “See you in like… half an hour?”

That’s how Mark shows up on your home a short while later. You look him up and down, taking in his work outfit. “Didn’t wanna change after shift?” you grin, holding your door open for him.

“I uh, wanted to see you. Need a shower, so I figured I’d put on my fresh clothes after that.”

“Sounds good, you know that my home is your home. Go shower, I’ll put our food in bowls.” You accept the takeout from Mark, intent on turning to head to the kitchen- only for him to pull you back into an embrace.

“Hi,” he mumbles, kissing the side of your head and nuzzling against your hair.

“Hi,” you grin, turning in his arms to press your lips to his. “Go shower.”

“You got it.”

Mark goes into your bathroom, and a moment later you hear the water begin to run. You take your time in the kitchen. Mark has made himself alfredo, and he’s cooked your favourite rice bowl for you. You smile to yourself while plating the food, loving how domestic things have gotten with Mark.

Part of you is tempted to join Mark in the shower, but you’re not sure if you’re there yet, so you wait patiently for him to finish. This isn’t the first time he’s showered at your place, and you trust he’ll see his designated towel hanging on the hook behind your door.

You kind of enjoy that he’s gotten so comfortable at your home. You’ve been spending so much time with him here and at work that it feels kind of odd when he’s not around.

Soon, Mark is coming out of the bathroom. He’s in sweatpants and a tank top that shows off his tattoos. You have to actively stop yourself from drooling as you move to sit at the dinner table.

“So… did you need to talk to me about something?”

“Hmm?” Mark sits across from you.

“We didn’t have plans, you called and wanted to come over, I guess I’m just wondering if you had a specific reason.”

“Can’t I just miss you?” he grins.

Despite his words, it’s clear that there’s more to it, however you drop the issue. When Mark is ready to be real with you, he will be. You have time until then.

Mark begins to talk about work, how it had gotten busy after you’d left. You listen, happy to chat with him while you eat.

After food, the two of you move to the couch, cuddling up while Netflix starts.

You’re two seasons into your anime already, it’s funny how time flies. You can turn your brain off when Mark spoons you, his lips pressing soft kisses to your shoulder every now and again.

One episode in, Mark reaches over you for the remote, pausing your show.

“I guess there is a reason I wanted to come over,” he admits finally.

“Yeah?” You turn onto your back, looking up at him.

“I hate to say that I’ve been jealous, but uh… since the Christmas party, I’ve been a little jealous about you and Jaehyun.” Mark won’t meet your eyes, and you give him the space to continue. “I just… people are always hitting on you, and I don’t know, I think… I mean, I’m a serial monogamist according to Hyuck, and I know we haven’t been seeing each other for that long, but I only see you, in all ways, and I just… I don’t want to lock you down if you’re not looking for something serious, but I guess I wanted to know how you feel about exclusivity and that sort of thing.”

“With you? Mark… I’d love to be exclusive.” You let out a small laugh. “Don’t you realize that I have to watch girls flirt with you too? Maybe we’ve both been jealous. I think… locking each other down would be good for us.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s beaming now.

“You’re special,” you confess. “I’ve never been able to sleep next to a guy I’ve slept with, which feels like such a contradiction- but sleep has always come easy with you. I’ve never felt such a lack of pressure- such acceptance, for all of me, the good and the bad. I like you a lot Mark, and I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear.”

“It’s not that it wasn’t clear,” Mark assures you, cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “I just… I know you have that wild side, which is totally valid, I just wasn’t sure you were a settling down type.”

“I wasn’t so sure I was either, and then I met you.”

Mark kisses you instead of responding, but you can feel the emotion in the press of his lips against yours. He’s elated by what you’ve just said, and you’re close to floating to cloud nine too.

Even so, there’s something else. You can feel it in the slight tension of his shoulders when your fingers brush over his skin.

“Mark?” you break the kiss, blinking at him. “Is there something else on your mind?”

“It’s just… I know I said there’s no pressure, but I really wanna help you cum. And I’ve been thinking maybe… maybe we could use some of your toys.”

“My toys?”

“Like… some girls cum better with a vibrator, and if you have one, I’d love to use it on you.”

“Really?” You’re shocked. Lots of men think their dick is good enough, they feel emasculated to bring sex toys into the mix- but here’s Mark, being as contrarian as ever.

“Even if it doesn’t help you cum, I still think it would be fun. I’m not trying to pressure you-”

“We can use my vibrator,” you assure him, heart thundering in your rib cage at the mere thought of it.

No man has ever used a sex toy on you- it’s probably one of the reasons you’ve never cum with a lover before.

“Come on,” you sit up, heading to your bedroom while Mark follows. “I keep my toys in the closet,” you explain, bending down to find the shoe box that stores your vibrator. You pull the device out, showing it to Mark. “Is this going to work?”

“Yeah, it will work.” Mark watches you stand up, and he holds out his hand for you to pass the toy to him. “I’m uh… I’m gonna put this down so I can get you naked.”

“Okay,” you grin.

He sets the vibrator on your bed gently, turning to you. Mark grabs your face first, pulling you in for a kiss. He’s gentler than you thought he would be, but you don’t mind it. You like getting lost in the feeling of Mark, allowing him to guide you toward the bed.

When you reach your mattress, his hands slip down to the hem of your shirt. He carefully removes it, and you lift your arms to help him with the task. Mark doesn’t immediately go for your pants next, he kisses you again instead, cupping your cheek with one hand while the other grabs the small of your back.

His touch is so gentle, smoothing across your skin. It’s making you even more eager, and you find yourself removing his shirt before he begins to work on your sleep shorts. Soon, you’re just in a bra and panties, but even those get taken off.

When you’re completely bare, Mark gently pushes you down onto your bed, eyes taking in your body.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he muses.

Your skin heats at the praise, and you begin to close your thighs, only for Mark to gently prompt them open.

“Don’t hide from me, please,” Mark says softly, getting onto his knees at the foot of your bed. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your clit before he pushes his tongue into your wet hole.

You breathe a sigh of relief, threading your fingers through his hair. You adjust your thighs on his shoulders, trailing your toes against his well-defined back.

He eats you out for a little while, groaning as he goes. It’s clear to you now that Mark enjoys getting his fill of you, and it makes the experience ten times more enjoyable for you. You’ve been getting better at slowing your mind while Mark licks at your clit, better at focusing on him and not all the worrying thoughts that generally buzz around you.

You feel the bed shift, and you open your eyes to see Mark has reached for the vibrator. He turns it on, assessing the way the toy shakes on the lowest setting. “Do you wanna show me where to use this, sunshine?” he asks, holding it out to you.

With a deep breath, you nod, accepting the toy and bringing it to your clit. “I like… a good amount of pressure,” you tell him, showing him exactly where you like the vibrator to be held.

It feels kind of odd to be pleasuring yourself like this in front of Mark, but from the way his pupils are blown, eyes fixed completely on your core, you can tell that he’s enjoying the view. It makes you feel more confident, as you begin to drag the vibrator side to side, teasing yourself.

“This sort of movement is good too,” you tell him.

“Can I take over now?” he asks.

You nod, allowing him to grab the handle of the toy.

Now that you’re not the one holding it, you can focus completely on the feeling of your clit being vibrated. It feels amazing, your toes curling at the stimulus.

Mark’s free hand is on your inner thigh, smoothing against your skin, but soon, it joins the vibrator. He teases two fingers along your folds before pushing them into you, crooking them up to find the spongey spot that has you crying out.

“You make such pretty sounds,” Mark tells you, applying more pressure to your clit with the vibe. “Fuck, I could watch you like this all night.”

“Puppy-” you whimper, skin tingling at his words.

“You have no idea how good you look,” he continues. “I swear- I want you to cum, but even if you don’t, I’m not going to be able to forget about this. This view is- fuck, it’s the best view in the world. We’re going to be at work and this is all I’ll be thinking about. I won’t be able to get you out of my head.”

With each admittance, each uttered word of praise, you can feel the tension building in the pit of your stomach.

“Can you grind on this a little, sunshine? Grind on my fingers and your toy?”

“Yeah-” you whimper, hips moving as you try to follow with his prompt.

“That’s it-” Mark groans. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.”

His fingers work harder inside of you, and the added pressure makes you squeal. You can’t help the way one of your arms comes up to cover your face, muffling your sounds as your body moves on it’s own accord now. You’re grinding against his hand, grinding against the vibrator that sends tremors of pleasure through your entire form.

“I’m so fucking lucky,” Mark tells you. “So lucky that you’re mine- I could watch you like this for hours and not get bored.”

“Mark-” you groan. Usually, when you acknowledge an orgasm building, it dissipates, like some cruel trick of fate, a complete defiance of the laws of physics- but this time, when you whimper “I’m close” the feeling doesn't fade, it only builds.

“Yeah?” Mark sounds shocked. “All it took was a vibe, huh?”

“And… and your praise-”

“You like when I talk dirty to you, sunshine?” Mark asks. “Like it when I tell you how perfect and pretty you are?”

“Yes-”

“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me? Or should I finger fuck this cute little pussy even harder?”

“Oh my God-” you whimper. Mark has truly gotten comfortable with you now- he’s not holding back with his sinful words, and they make your stomach pull into a tight knot. “Please, harder-”

Mark presses the vibrator against your clit, turning up the vibration with his thumb while his fingers continue their brutal pace inside your core.

You find yourself gasping, unable to speak as he works you closer and closer-

“Cumming-” you whisper, your orgasm slamming into you like a train.

Your breath catches, waves of pleasure surging through you. Your fists grip the sheets, your back arches, your thighs quaking around Mark. Whimpers and moans fill the room, your core pulsating around Mark’s fingers while he works you through your high.

“That’s it,” Mark groans. “That’s my good girl.”

“Puppy-” you breathe, the feeling almost becoming too much for you.

“What do you need, sunshine?”

“Your cock,” you blurt out.

“Yeah?” Mark’s fingers slow inside your pussy.

“Please, wanna cum on your cock-”

Mark lets out a breath. “Holy fuck.” He turns the vibrator off, taking his digits from your core. Mark licks them clean before he stands up, pushing down his sweatpants. “Move up the bed for me?” he suggests.

You wiggle up to the pillows, watching Mark get onto the mattress. He allows you to lock your legs around his hips, pulling him close while he crashes his lips to yours.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, kissing him deeply. He ruts his hips, allowing you to feel his cock dragging against your core.

Patience is a virtue, but you don’t have any left. You reach between your bodies, grabbing his hard length to line it up with your pussy.

Mark slides into you, and you let out an immediate sigh of relief. His fingers had been nice, but his cock is even better. It stretches you open, you can feel him deeper than ever. You gasp against his mouth, dragging him closer as he begins to thrust into you.

“You feel so good, sunshine,” Mark groans, breaking the kiss so he can press his lips to your throat.

“Puppy-” you whimper, arching your neck so he has better access to find your sweet spot.

Mark captures your hands, lacing your fingers and pressing you into the bed while he fucks you.

You can feel him everywhere. You’re completely bewitched by Mark Lee. Your core is practically dripping, each thrust made easy by the wet that exudes out of you.

Then Mark is reaching for your vibrator. He sits up slightly, looking down at you. “Missionary? Or maybe doggy would be better?”

“I wanna see you when I cum again,” you tell him, accepting the vibrator he holds out to you. “Want you to see me cum with your cock in my pussy.”

Mark lets out a low groan, pressing his lips to yours as you turn on the toy, adjusting it onto your clit.

“If you can’t cum, that’s okay-”

“I think I’ll cum,” you assure him. “Just fuck me hard, and I’ll get there.”

“I can do that,” Mark grins, immediately picking up his pace and adding more power to his thrusts.

“And… tell me I’m pretty again?”

“Fuck, you’re so pretty,” Mark groans. “I’m so fucking lucky- how did I ever get this lucky?”

“Puppy-”

“You have no idea how into you I am- I love your sounds, love your voice- love the face you make when you feel good- love your smile-”

Each admittance has your heart buzzing in your chest. It’s crazy how easy it is for him to praise you- it almost feels like all these things were built up inside, like he’s a dam that’s just been released, and God, you love the flood.

You press the vibrator harder against your clit, entire body surging with energy.

“You’re squeezing me so well, baby,” Mark groans, and the sound has your pussy throbbing. “Want you to cum with me so bad, do you think you can cum with me?”

“Yeah, just- kiss me?” you suggest.

Mark presses his lips to yours immediately, cupping your face with one hand. His tongue glides against your own. You eat up each other's sounds, getting completely lost in each other.

In no time at all, another orgasm is building in the pit of your stomach.

“I’m gonna-” you whimper against his lips.

Mark fucks you even harder in response, and the motion is dizzying.

“Please, sunshine, cum with me- fuck, I can’t hold it, cum with me-”

His words are your last straw as you explode on his cock. Your core clamps down hard, gasps of extacy escaping you.

To Mark’s credit, he holds off his own high long enough to fuck you through yours, and the moment you begin to be oversitmulated, he cums too. You can feel his cock throbbing in your pussy, his load spilling along your insides and coating your walls.

You kiss him deeply, enjoying his whimpers of pleasure.

You’ve never cum with someone balls deep inside of you before, and there’s a voice in the back of your mind itching for you to tell Mark that you love him- but you bite your tongue. You simply kiss him, holding him close while he finishes.

Finally, Mark lets out a small gasp, pulling away from your lips. His forehead presses against yours, and you’re both breathing heavily.

You’ve never felt this connected to someone in your entire life.

“Are you going to get us tissues?” you ask after a moment, letting out a small laugh.

Mark chuckles, pressing his lips against yours in a chaste kiss. “I just wanna enjoy you a second longer.”

“Puppy, you have literally all the time in the world.”

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! I really wanted to kick the year off with something more realistic. I wanted to write about a reader who over thinks, who doesn’t cum super easily like we usually see in fanfic. I wanted to touch on the realism of relationships, the use of sex toys, things discussed in the bonus like whiskey dick, domestic showers together and troubles sleeping next to someone new- I really hope you guys liked this even though it’s not as classic fanfic as I usually write :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below!

🔮 preview. “I drank too much,” Mark admits. “Hyuck kept egging me on- I’m pretty sure he wanted to get me blackout so I couldn’t fuck you tonight- But I swear- whisky dick won’t last all night,” Mark tells you. “And, I mean, you know I love using your toys so it doesn’t even matter.” He’s adorable. Of course Hyuck wouldn’t take into account that sometimes Mark is perfectly happy making you cum with your toys and not fucking you at all. Mark truly is a man built for your pleasure, and you’re not surprised that ‘whiskey dick’ hasn’t phased him.

cw/ tw. drunk!Mark, shower shenanigans, fingering, pussy eating, use of toys/g spot stimulator, Mark has ‘whiskey dick’ and can’t get hard at first, unprotected sex, praise, dirty talk, munch!Mark, creampie/fullness kink, etc… I petnames. (hers) sunshine. (his) puppy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.3k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 starring. Mark x afab!Reader

bonus

“Puppy?” You sit up in bed, holding your phone close. Mark’s at some boys night thing, and you really hadn’t expected to hear from him, but here he is, calling you at midnight.

“Hi, Sunshine.”

“Hi Sunshine!” Someone else screams in the background.

“Oh my god, fuck off, Hyuck!” Mark yells back. “Not you, baby, I’m talking to Hyuck.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, “I gathered that.”

You’ve also gathered that your boyfriend is drunk. You can hear it in his voice, and when he begins to hiccup, it’s even more evident.

“So uh, I wanna see you.”

“You can see me tomorrow, we have dinner plans, right?”

“No, I wanna see you tonight and tomorrow,” Mark insists.

“You do, huh?” God, he’s adorable.

“Yes, please.”

“Don’t you want to finish boys night?” you prompt, not wanting to get in the way of his time with friends. You know Jeno would get mad about Mark spending time with his ex instead of his boys, and you don’t want to be that girlfriend who restricts her lover from his bros.

“Nah, fuck this,” Mark says. “Jeno went home with a girl, it’s just me and Hyuck and Renjun and Chenle and Jaemin and Jisung-” Sweet Jesus, he’s listing half of your work staff. “But I wanna be with you. I can call a cab and be at your place in like, fifteen minutes?”

“Whatever you want, puppy,” you grin. “I’ll be here.”

☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.3k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here

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bluebellhairpin · 5 months ago

Text

Sanji Vinsmoke X Fem!Reader

Summary: Sanji takes his job as cook on the Going Merry very seriously, and seeing as he has yet to discover what you enjoy eating, he makes finding out his top priority. Lucky for Sanji, Luffy lends a hand. (a.k.a, reader has a complicated relationship with food, and Sanji finds a way to help fix it.) (wc. 2.8K)

Warnings: Food, food, more food (possibly a ED warning needed). They make out in the end :) Reader has she/her pronouns + fem bodied +tragic backstory.

Listening to: 'clementine' by Halsey - "Left my shoes in the street, so you'd carry me, through a breakdown. Through a breakdown or a blackout, would you make out with me on the floor of the mezzanine?"

Masterlist || AO3 link

To Sanji Vinsmoke you were an enigma, and it was driving him half mad trying to figure you out. Sanji had figured out everyone else in Luffy’s crew fairly quickly. In regards to food that is.

Luffy loves meat, Nami has her tangerines, etcetera and so forth. But you? He barely saw you finish a single plate of food, let alone go back for more - or forbid look like you were enjoying eating at all. Sanji’s whole life revolved around food, and he wasn’t going to have someone he decided to care for so deeply dislike it so much.

His stare pinned you to your seat at the kitchen table, fingers tapping the wood as he ran through the list in his head to find something new to try your tastes at.

“You’re really sure you don’t like tangerines? They’re in season at the moment.” Sanji watched your face form into a grimace, teeth bearing as you sucked air into your mouth.

“Not really. Sorry.” He waved his hand, shooing away your worry like swatting a fly. His thoughts wandered again before speaking after a few long moments of silence.

“Your not liking seafood feels like a crime.” he mumbled. As he looked at you he saw your eyes flicker to the side.

“I’ll eat it, I just can’t say it’s my favourite.” you said.

“You’re just saying that.” he smiled, “I saw your face screw up the first time Zoro had a poor attempt at making sashimi.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” You sat up, ready to defend yourself from Sanji’s interrogation. “I’m just not used to eating raw fish!”

“He can’t make it like I do.” he said softly. You looked into his eyes and he had to hold himself back from sighing dreamily.

Sanji, besides believing food shouldn’t be wasted, loved seeing people who needed to eat happy with what they ate. You worried him, since it had been weeks and yet you’d never expressed such approval. You never even went back for seconds - which obviously was on his mind more than he’d ever admit. He tried so hard to find something you’d like, and hadn’t yet. He wondered how happy you’d look when he finally found out what you liked. How your pretty eyes might light up, or how you might finally bless him with a real toothy grin instead of a shy smile.

He almost sighed again at the thought of how beautiful it would be.

“You care a lot about food, don’t you?” your voice was quiet, but it cut through Sanji’s thoughts like a knife. He watched your face soften. “You don’t have to answer. I can tell.”

He watched you, the way you took a deep breath and how it shifted your shoulders. Then you stood, and came around the table. You hand rested inches from his, and he knew he shouldn’t want to hold your hand as badly as he did. He wondered if your fingers were soft or calloused, felt hot or cold. He wanted to hold your hand so badly, but he didn’t.

“You don’t have to care so much about me, Sanji. I’ll eat whatever’s put in front of me, whether I like it or not.”

Your words made him frown, and he watched you turn and leave. Something about your words left him feeling an immeasurable amount of sadness. He once said women were mysteries to be unravelled slowly, you were the slowest he’d come across. You sounded so sad when you spoke, as if resolved to a fate you never wanted.

It made him scared to uncover what possibly happened to you to resign like that, and sad to think about how different you might be now if you hadn’t gone through it. Clearly, you had gone through something, or someone, to make you so uncaring for something many people found joy in.

He decided then that he would help fix it. Sanji would bring joy back into your life through food.

Calm, quiet nights on the Going Merry were a favourite of yours. The sea was still, the salt sat lightly in the air, and the sky was so clear you could see stars no matter which direction you looked. It was peaceful. Carefree. On nights like these you could clear your head, spread out your thoughts like photos on the floor and organise them one by one.

You kept nights like these a secret because you knew if someone found you and got you talking that you’d keep no more secrets. With your vulnerability laid bare before you it was also laid bare to anyone who came by. Doing this small ritual late at night meant no one ever had seen it. Tonight changed that.

A hand reached at the railing inches from your face, and a wide grin soon followed. Someone had found you.

“You trying to scare me into a heart attack Luffy?” His grin softened at your nonchalant reply.

“I don’t believe I really scared you with how you’re reacting.”

“My heart’s beating right out of my chest, really it is captain. You should feel it.” You said, watching him climb over the railing and sit down beside you. His quietness while doing so was unusual. “You don’t usually come up here.”

“I wanted to ask you something -”

‘Here we go,’ you thought, rolling your eyes.

“- You gave your dinner to Ussop tonight. Distracted him by getting him to tell a story then put your plate in front of him so he wouldn’t notice. But I did.” he said. Luffy looked across at you, his hat rested around his neck by its drawstring. Without the hat he looked more serious - that paired with the genuine concern in his eyes and your own aforementioned vulnerability was dangerous.

“Why did you do that?” You looked at him, and he looked back at you. You sighed.

“Before dinner he said he was starving.” you said, “After he finished eating I gave him mine so he didn’t have to get up.”

“You need to eat too. He says that all the time, it’s just a joke.”

You sighed. Your arms rested across the banister of the crows rest, and your chin now nestled on top of them. When you spoke again your voice was soft, and you didn’t look back at Luffy.

“It’s not a joke to me.” From the corner of your eye you saw his position mirror yours, and his legs slowly started swinging from where they dangled over the edge.

“Why?” he asked. It was such a small unassuming word. Normally it wouldn’t bother you, but tonight it was the one thing you were most worried about. It could open a floodgate you’d been dying to keep closed since you joined the Straw Hats - and now it had opened.

“My family.” you said. “My island was good. We weren’t well-off but we never went without the things we needed. Then pirates came, and the marines came. Then if we had something and it wasn’t stolen by pirates, it was allocated to the marines. We started starving.”

Finally, you looked across to Luffy. He stared at you with a frown, the kind he’d get when he was focusing and trying to understand. You’d seen him direct it to others but had never been on the receiving end yourself - it felt strange. With that look, however strange it was, he made you feel like you needed to keep talking just so he understood. So you kept talking.

“With the lack of what we needed, my mother died, then my father. I had to look after my sister on my own, so I worked. I skipped eating so she got breakfast and dinner, I only ate the food I got from work. I did my best to go hungry so she didn’t have to and she died anyway.”

The weight of your words sat heavy in the night air. Your words were gentle, resigned - you’d gotten used to the thought long ago that losing your family was an act you were helpless to stop no matter how hard you tried. You’d spent the rest of your life until now trying even harder to see if that would have made a difference.

For a long time all you heard was the lapping of seawater on the ship’s hull.

“I don’t want to see the people I care about go hungry again. I want them to be happy. I want you all to be happy.” You turned your cheek to rest on your arm, suddenly feeling tired as you looked back at Luffy. “So I give up my food, I don’t eat more than my share.”

Luffy, again, mirrored your action. His cheek squished against his forearm as he looked at you. He lacked the frown now, and his eyes held understanding. You could tell your story made him sad, but he also looked grateful. Eventually his face broke out in a new, wide grin.

“If you could eat anything without a care in the world, what would it be?”

At the look on Luffy’s face, you let out a quiet noise that almost could’ve been a soft laugh. His eyes were expectant, so you looked back to the ocean and thought.

“I know it’s a drink, but I loved tea.” You sighed dreamily. “French earl grey was my favourite.”

Sanji knew you liked your quiet time, so he never went up to the crows nest with you. He stayed on deck, out of sight and smoking, until you climbed down and went to bed. He liked to think he was making sure you didn’t fall, but really he treated it like your own secret.

You up there, him down here, and that's the special time you get to spend together, a moment where it was just the two of you - even if you didn’t know about it. When Luffy started climbing the rigging, Sanji was prepared to get really pissed off for ruining your peace. He was glad he didn’t though.

Still night’s means sound travels well and fast. He heard everything you and Luffy talked about.

Thanks to your Captain, he’d figured you out - and he wasn’t going to bed tonight. He stomped out his cigarette and turned around back into the kitchen.

The plan for today was to dock the Going Merry and spend most of the day ashore, either gathering supplies or, in Luffy’s case, finding some local trouble to get in the middle of. Sanji’s original plan was to do that too, but after last night he had new plans.

The fact everyone else would be gone was fantastic - and your own plan to stay close to the ship to spend time around the hull scraping off barnacles was even more perfect.

Sanji was even more grateful to Luffy’s talk with you last night, since your whole mood seemed lighter today. Convincing out to climb back aboard was almost too easy - and the lack of trouble it took to get you to entertain his shenanigans was almost just as easy.

“Sanji I don’t know why you have to cover my eyes, I can keep my eyes closed just fine.”

“I don’t want you peeking.”

“If you’re going to show me some food sculpture again,” you trailed off. Sanji controlled the fluttering in his chest at the feeling of your cheeks moving under his palms - movements that meant you were smiling.

“If I was, you’d be very impressed.” He guided you to a stop, making sure to position you just right. He suddenly felt very nervous. This felt worse than when he made his very first meal. What if you didn’t like it? What if this was a big mistake? What if-

“Sanji?” you whispered. He didn’t even realize his hands were resting on your shoulders until your fingers came up and grazed his own. “Are you okay?”

He smiled. Of course you’d ask that - it made sense now, now that he knew you were the most selfless person he’d met.

“I’m perfect.” he said, hands squeezing your shoulders, “Are you ready to see your surprise?” You nodded. He let out a soft ‘okay’ and reluctantly pulled away to stand next to the kitchen table.

Sanji watched as you took it in, but your face gave nothing away. He nervously looked toward the table again - maybe something was out of place? - then back to you.

“What is this?” you asked. Your voice was so soft that if he wasn’t on a knife's edge he wouldn’t have heard it.

“Earl grey and chocolate cheesecake, and a lemon and earl grey chiffon cake.” He noticed your eyes lingering on a porcelain set just behind the cake. “And tea ready to brew.”

“Sanji, you didn’t have to do -”

“No!” His objection was abrupt, and it made your eyes snap from the spread to him. “I’m sorry, but no. I won’t hear you say it. Just eat it. Please.” Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, too scared to even blink.

You could tell Sanji felt just as tense as you did. No one had ever gone through so much just for you - hell you didn’t even know there was French earl grey tea anywhere on the Merry, and here Sanji was with a whole morning tea that was themed after your favourite flavour. You didn’t know what to do.

“I’ll get on my knees and beg if you want.” he offered with a small and unsteady grin. Your head shook, declining, and his eyes glanced down at where your fingers nervously fiddled with themselves. You stilled them, instead gripping the coarse fabric of your skirt.

“What I want?” you said softly, almost to yourself. You looked at the food, so carefully prepared and baked, then back at him. “Could you join me? I don’t want to eat alone.”

Instantly, his nerves seemed to visibly melt away - and you in turn felt like you could relax too. He was by your side again, guiding you with a phantom hand at your waist into a seat, and then took the one beside you.

“You’ll have tea, obviously.” Sanji offered, reaching for the teapot, “You’re sweet as you are, but do you need some sugar today?”

Your hand faltered for where it reached for a piece of the chiffon cake. He turned his head to face you, to see you frozen again. This time the look on your face was different. Like a cheeky child had been caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

“Do you think I need some sugar today?” you asked, snickering.

“I’d give you some any day you want.” Then you started giggling - a sound he’d never heard from you before. He looked over and there it was - the smile he’d been longing for a chance to see.

“I think I need some sugar today,” you said with a smile. Your giggling had stopped, but you looked up at him with a soft smile. He couldn’t have been dreaming, but he might’ve since he swore you lent closer.

Sanji decided to be brave. His arm came up to rest on the back of his seat, and his fingers brushed your jaw. His heart skipped a beat when you let him do it.

“How much sugar?” he asked, feeling like he’d been lulled into a daydream at the sight of your happiness.

“A little bit,” you replied, shyly smiling over at him.

“Like this?” he said softly. Ever so carefully he lent forward. His fingers held your chin gently, and when he was close enough to count your eyelashes, your eyes fluttered closed. Gently, he pressed a kiss to the edge of your mouth. It was a short kiss, but he could die happily now - he knew he’d remember the feel of you on his lips even from beyond the grave.

“No,” you whispered, and your fingers ghosted across his jaw to guide his head closer still, “Like this.” you said. Then you kissed him. Your kiss was just as soft, just as gentle, but it was longer, and less afraid. When you pulled away your eyes finally opened.

Before, Sanji could tell you weren’t the kind of person to have done that. To have taken a kiss for yourself, no matter how willing the recipient was. To think all that it took to break that spell was a morning tea.

“Thank you Sanji, for doing all this for me.” You said. Your smile was content - it wasn’t the full toothy grin Sanji had hoped for, but it was genuine, and it made him feel fuller than any meal ever could.

“No, thank you,” he replied, “Thank you for letting me know you.”

#sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #one piece x reader #opla x reader #opla sanji x reader

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kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

hellooo kxsagi!!! hope you're prepared for my coming requests... 😈‼️

may i humblyy request a first date oneshot with rin where he's all nervous and shy and like flustered??? and when reader says something sweet he tries to hide the fact his ears are red AWSSSSSAS 🤭 it would be nice if it was an aquarium date (js saying...) 🙊🙏

(i actually requested this before and i'm not sure whether it went thru so i'm so sorry if it's a repeat 💔)

thank u and take care!!!! ❤️‍🩹

“𝐚𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐦 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡”

a/n: YESSSS THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE

take care as well!!! i love your comments and requests anna girl pls keep them coming (well for requests i mean when my inbox is open again 😭)

you think rin itoshi must be the shyest boy alive.

not in the awkward, stuttery, can’t-make-eye-contact kind of way, but in the "his ears turn red when you smile at him for too long" kind of way. the kind of shy that hides behind cool silence and narrowed eyes, but crumbles when you call him pretty under glowing jellyfish lights.

and today? he is crumbling spectacularly.

he's walking beside you, a stiff 6’1 wall of discomfort, as if the concept of a first date is more terrifying than a championship final. and really, maybe for rin itoshi, it is. he can handle cleats and crowds, but your fingers brushing his on the escalator? that has him malfunctioning in real-time.

“you’re being weird,” you say sweetly, nudging his arm as you both enter the first tunnel of the aquarium. it’s dark, except for the glittering sapphire glow of the water above and beside you, an entire sea of fish floating like stars.

“i’m not,” he replies, immediately suspicious. defensive. like a criminal falsely accused. he won’t look at you, just stares very hard at a stingray like it owes him money.

you laugh, light and musical, and loop your arm through his. he tenses like you just planted a landmine on his body. so dramatic, you think. so adorable.

“you’re literally walking like i have a knife to your back.”

“because you’re making fun of me.”

“i’m not! i’m being affectionate.”

rin tries very hard not to react. and fails. because his ears? glowing. nuclear. like someone dipped them in strawberry jam.

you stop walking and tilt your head. “rin.”

he visibly debates whether to bolt or not. you catch him in time, pressing your hand to his cheek so he can’t turn away, thumb brushing over the warmth blooming there.

“aw,” you whisper. “look at you. blushing. you’re so cute.”

he actually groans in agony.

“why would you say that out loud?”

“because it’s true?”

“stop talking.”

he looks like he might wither. evaporate. ascend. and yet, he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he leans into your palm, just the tiniest bit, like it’s the only thing grounding him. like he can’t help it.

you grin, absolutely delighted.

“your ears are red again.”

“shut up.”

you’re giggling uncontrollably now, especially when he yanks his hood up like it’s going to protect him from your loving words. “you’re like a little turtle retreating into your shell.”

“do you want to be left at the otter exhibit.”

you coo, “ohhh, he’s threatening me now! so scary! should i be trembling?”

“yes.”

you wrap both arms around his stiff frame and squeeze. rin makes a noise like a kicked puppy and awkwardly pats your back twice, like someone trying to comfort a ghost.

the best part? he’s trying. you can feel it in the way his fingers twitch toward yours when you walk again, how he keeps glancing at you from the corner of his eye, like he wants to say something but doesn’t trust his mouth not to betray him.

so you do the talking.

“this is fun,” you murmur as you stop in front of a glowing wall of jellyfish, your reflections bathed in soft, dreamy blue.

“mm.”

you glance at him. “are you having fun?”

he hesitates. “... yeah.”

you lean your head on his shoulder.

“really?” you whisper.

his reply is quiet. barely audible. “... because you’re here.”

and it hits you, soft as seafoam – rin itoshi doesn’t need a lot of words. he doesn’t need grand gestures. all it takes is one quiet truth, wrapped in a mumble, delivered with ears glowing red, for your whole chest to melt.

you look up at him with a smile so sweet it could ruin him.

he tries to scowl. tries. but his lips twitch up at the corners anyway.

“you’re not gonna let me live this down, are you.”

“absolutely not.”

and when you raise your phone for a picture, he sighs, tugs you in by the waist, and looks into the camera with a blush and the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

jellyfish glowing behind you. your hands tangled together.

and rin, flustered, adorable, totally yours.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #aquarium crush

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s3ggsypiranha · 5 months ago

Text

mean streak (pt. 2)

synopsis you were a cruel mistress and a beguiling puzzle. as a favour for his little brother, neteyam trades some more of his dignity to pick your brain. just who were you exactly?

⚝ neteyam sully x fem!metkayina reader

⚝ tags: fluff for masochists, metkayina family bonding fr, tonowari moment, neteyam is down bad but denial is a river by doechii, if you hadn’t guessed it alrdy, reader is na’vi-fied kat stratford

⚝ wc: 3.8k | a/n: im loving all the love for mean streak pt 1, you guys are the goat fr, internet hugs for everyone 🫶🫶 this took so long but i had so much fun churning this out :>

⚝ taglist: @rafslytherin @slipup0567 @carolineesnell @21-princess @emilymikado @sg-obsessedfreak @yumimak @anonymjuni @ginsenqi @lxon-kxnnedy @tireyun @sasluvscats @y2unagiz @jailbby @eliankm @erenjaegerwifee @tsumuus @xoxotuti @ashrocker123 @laurenow87 @trees-are-books @moradogreen @levi-09

⚝ series masterlist

(ps. pls don't repost, im absolutely fine w reblogs)

You weren't always horrid.

Believe it or not, there was a time you walked around sporting the skin of a much more idealistic, people-oriented person. Strangers saw you as a friendly face, acquaintances thought you were amiable, and close companions knew you as an honest, real friend. Things were good. You had it all going for you.

Until you got fed up.

At least, that was the general word around Awa'atlu.

All that was known was that something in your demeanor had shifted shortly after your appointment as the clan's tsakarem. But only you could know the truth behind this sudden personality transplant. And why, one day, you vowed that people simply sucked and you were the only person who could truly understand yourself, shedding the flesh of amiability to become a jaded creature.

Otherwise known as a heinous bitch, as Ao'nung so delicately put it at the breakfast table.

"You're funny," you laughed before pinching his ear, "Go on, say it again-"

"Sa'nu, she's doing it again!"

"Unhand your brother at once," your mother requested without conviction.

Ronal sighed with a squeeze of her temple, "It is too early in the day for all this foolishness."

Tsireya tilted her head, reason glinting in her eyes. Be nice, you know it is a trying time for mother.

In all honesty, she, too, was aware of your brother's susceptibility to merit a justified ass-kicking. Not that you were any better with your acerbic tendencies.

You raised a brow innocently. I am nice… on occasion.

You let go of Ao'nung's purpled ear. He cradled it, bitterly sticking his tongue out at you.

"Charming, little brother, charming."

"I am surprised you even know what charm is, being our village beast and all."

You raised a blunt knife at him, stabbing your cooked fish with the pointy end as you mercilessly de-boned the already dead animal, head to tail. This only served to prove his point.

"You're lucky we share blood or I would have finished the job your umbilical cord failed to do."

"Guys!" Tsireya piped.

Contrary to what you had said, you thought Ao'nung was a cute baby when you saw him fresh as morning dew from your mother's womb for the first time. Babbling was adorable on him as an infant. As a teenage boy, not so much. Regardless, you would kill for that boy.

"Children, I wish to speak with your sister," Ronal professed, shooing your siblings out of the room.

Ao'nung took the liberty to 'ooh' exaggeratedly. You threw your leftovers at him as he ducked out the marui after your sister. Skxawng.

"Are you quite finished?"

You smiled modestly. "Sorry, mother, what was it you wished to discuss?"

Ronal watched as you shoved fillet into your mouth between words.

"As you know, our clan encountered a threat never before seen this past year."

"We Metkayina are pacifists. That was our first brush with war. War with the sky people, no less." She strutted imposingly around you, "As the voice of Eywa in these matters, your father and I intend for it to be the last."

"Of course, with the presence of the newcomers, one cannot be sure. As tsahik, and your father, as olo'eyktan, we believe…"

Dear Eywa, no good ever came about whenever your mother threw around titles in a conversation.

"…that brokering alliances within the clans of the ocean is paramount in securing our safety."

You picked at the skin around your right thumb.

"We have arranged for you to meet with the eligible son of our neighboring reef clan's olo'eykte-"

You peeled it frenetically.

"-to consider as a mate."

It tore, bleeding.

No, no, no...

"No!"

"No?" Ronal echoed, eyes reduced to poisonous slits.

"Tìmuntxa! Sa'nok, really?!" you bounced up.

"Your father and I…"

"Sempul!" you scoffed, pacing, "Oh please, this has you written all over it, mother."

"Selfish child!" She sneered, "You would do well to pay heed for this is larger than you are."

You couldn't bring yourself to look at her.

"Ma'ite, we care for your happiness, we do."

Your eyes, stinging with the saltiness of incoming tears, noted that there was a hole in the weaved wall of your marui. Somebody should fix that.

"But we cannot sit around wishing for peace."

Ronal touched your shoulder gently, much composed now, "Now, you must listen and do your part."

You must listen and do your part.

Tough love, much?

Of course, nothing was kept from your siblings for long. Tsireya pestered you about it, glued to your side like a barnacle during tsahik lessons.

"So, tìmuntxa, huh?" Tsireya bounced her knee, engraving a footprint in the sand as you grinded herbs absentmindedly.

"Yes…tìmuntxa."

"I do not know what to say except, maybe, and that is quite a maybe…"

"Maybe?" you asked.

"It won't be as bad as you make it."

"Me and marriage?" You chortled. "No chance."

Tsireya managed a smile.

"Why do you say so, tsmuke?"

"Have you seen the prospects around here? All unwashed cretins." You deadpanned, wiping sweat off your brow. Less a question, more a general statement.

"I would sooner take my chances with a pxazang."

"Oh, but the poor creature," your sister lamented.

"I know," you smirked, "It hardly seems fair."

Tsireya toyed with a tendril of her curly hair.

"Lo'ak washes," she blurts, "I think."

You gasped, scandalized, throwing a used cloth her way. Tsireya was quick to catch it, her fit of giggles growing into full-fledged laughter that you couldn't help but be infected by.

"I really do not know what you see in that boy, 'Reya."

"That is because you don't see him."

You were taken a bit aback. Tsireya wouldn't make a statement like that from nowhere. And she nods, so genuine and so sure of herself but you doubt. Because that was your job. This is your sister. Your sister who wept for the first fish Ao'nung caught when you were but little children.

"'tsmuke'tsyip," you tutted, "Boys are good fun, they are. But you'll have plenty of time for that when you grow into your own."

Tsireya's ears drooped, feeling sorely misunderstood. "It is not fair-"

"What is not fair?"

The two of you perked up at the sound of the imperial tone that unmistakably belonged to one person.

"We see you, sempul," you chorused.

"Girls," Tonowari eyed you, "I did not recall gossip being a crucial part of your training."

"Of course not-" "Father, we weren't-"

"Great mother, it is not about boys, is it?" Your father crossed his arms accusingly.

You and Tsireya shared a look, confirming his thoughts.

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "I gather it is about that Sully boy?"

Oh, shit, who were you kidding, this man was a walking lie detector.

"If you must know, yes, it was," you spoke up, "Tsireya?"

She grinned nervously at you, sirens flashing in her eyes. What are you doing, he isn't supposed to know, you promised, what ever happened to girl code-

Tsireya held out her hands placatingly, "Please, father, it is not like that at all-"

"What is it like, my child? Eywa forbid, does he intend to court you?" He placed a hand over his mouth as if a most unfathomable thing crossed his mind, "Need I remind you, until you are old enough, we have only a few rules."

Here you go again. This spiel was older than Pandora herself.

"One, no boys," he affirmed. "Two, no courtship."

"-with boys."

"Father!" Tsireya rebutted, hearts in her irises, "Is it not enough that Lo'ak is Toruk Makto's son and a true member of this clan? Has he not proven himself? He is wonderful and- and I like him."

Tonowari broke out into a hearty laugh. Impossibly fast, his smile drops as quickly as he puts it on. You can't shake off the shiver that passes through the both of you.

"No. Or better yet, no courtship for you until your sister enters one."

"Mm, and I intend never to do so," you reinforced, earning a pat on the back from your old man.

Tsireya huffed silently as she trudged away.

You faced your father with a sweet, spoiled smile. "Does this mean I still have to meet with the olo'eykte's son?"

"Ah," Tonowari scratched his head, "Yes, you must."

He never could say no to his mate. It was as if she always held a knife to his jugular. You always figured your father was some breed of masochist for loving her in spite of it.

"But, sempul…"

"You understand how it is with your mother," he reasoned softly, then became firm once more. "Run along now, 'eveng."

You walked away, rendered as indignant as your sister. You wondered where that girl was. Your conversation was hardly over.

Now, it wasn't Tsireya's first experience falling victim to your refusal to let her live her own life. She knew it stemmed from a place of love. A protective, suffocating love that often felt like a comfortable prison, but a prison nonetheless. She longed to love freely without repercussions. No amount of no altered that fact. What did you expect? The heart wants what it wants.

So, predictably, she turned to someone who shared the same plight.

"Lo'ak!"

"Hey," he smiled, accepting her hands shyly with relief, "for a minute there, I thought you weren't gonna show."

"Nonsense." Tsireya regarded him through her lashes, mouth curling into a frown.

"What is wrong, ma'txampay-syulang?"

My ocean flower. Ever the smooth operator. Tsireya couldn't stifle the snicker that passed through her frowning lips.

"It is silly that you still try to call me that."

He placed a hand on his chest, offended, "You know you like it."

She rolled her eyes, pulling away with a chuckle.

"Seriously, do you mind telling me what's wrong?"

Tsireya sighed, "I do not think this," she gestured to the both of them, "is such a good idea."

"Woah, where is this coming from?" Lo'ak fussed, joining her in the water.

"Oh, you know, father," she shrugged, "…and my sister."

"'Course."

"Listen, Lo'ak. I care about you deeply," Tsireya touched his forearm lightly, "It is just that father insists I cannot hang around boys until my sister herself agrees to be courted."

"Hey, let's not stress. How about the 'prospective mate' business with your mom? Any news?"

"It is not that easy. If you knew my sister, you would know that kind of thing won’t stop her," she smiled wryly, "I know it is a stupid rule, but I hope you can understand me."

Lo'ak melted under her gaze, completely captivated until she began to turn away. The absence of Tsireya's bright eyes snapped him back into the present. Not that there were any around but, by Eywa, he'd would throw himself at a thanator if she asked nicely.

"'Reya, wait, that's perfect!" he grinned impishly, tucking a stray hair behind her perked-up ear, "Don't worry your pretty head about it, just leave everything to me."

Perplexed, Tsireya watched her cosmic loverboy splash out onto shore with fierce determination.

The past evening weighed on Neteyam's soul as he ambled along the village at dawn.

Throughout his life, he had his fair share of occasional shortcomings. Emphasis on occasional. He was, after all, the proclaimed golden child of the family. But never in his fifteen years had he suffered a failure as monumental as his sour interaction with the olo'eyktan's daughter.

You. Cruel, confusing you.

Your rejection simmered in his mind, raising all sorts of thoughts, turning into questions, which turned into insecurities he didn't even know he had.

What wasn't there to like about Neteyam? He was kind, charismatic, inviting, and, at the risk of tooting his own horn, he didn't think he was a bad-looking guy. Looks were inevitable, what with the blessing known as the Sully gene pool. In short, he never had a problem winning people over at the snap of a finger. He was universally adored.

Except by one.

In all fairness, you weren't known to make exceptions. Though, it didn't exactly even the playing field when it came to all this courting business.

That's right. Just when Neteyam thought the situation couldn't possibly get any worse, Lo'ak's antics reached a new low with a lovely new development from within enemy lines.

"Get this, Tonowari's a complete psycho. The guy just won't let Tsireya date."

"Bummer, baby bro," Neteyam shrugged, feigning despair, "I guess we've got no choice but to fall back..."

"Uh-uh, let me finish."

"Don't tell me there's a catch."

"Oh, there's a catch alright," Lo'ak wagered with a conniving smirk, "Tsireya can't date unless big sis, over here, does. That's where you come in."

Easier said than done. How the hell was anybody going to manage that? Least of all, him?

Lo'ak suggested feeding him hackneyed pickup lines through comms, which Neteyam concluded was an absurd idea. To say that would never work was an understatement. He could talk to girls, for Eywa's sake. Although, with every hour that passed since his fumble, you appeared more like an impenetrable fortress than a cute girl.

He'd never admit that out loud. The last part, anyway.

In the haze of his introspection, he didn't even realize that he was bound for a collision course into a poor person.

Oh, shit. Talk about a sign from the cosmos.

Neteyam shook his head in realization, braids rebounding. "Oh, sorry."

You rolled your eyes without so much as a greeting, heading from point A to somewhere.

"So," Neteyam followed suit, feet on autopilot as he pursued you, "bumping into people now, huh?"

"That's one way to get a guy's attention," he remarked.

"Ah, it is my only purpose in life," you sing-songed, "but, obviously, I seem to have summoned you here so I guess I can say I have succeeded. The world is right again."

He chuckled girlishly. Now, this. This was jarring. Here was a persistent Neteyam Sully by your side, helping himself to a giggle at what you had to say. The solar system had to be out of balance.

"Whatcha doing?"

"Not that it is any of your business," you picked up your pace, "but early morning training."

"No way, I'm headed there too!"

You had to scoff.

"Don't you have a tree to climb or something? A bush you can scamper off into?"

"First of all, offensive," he counted, "And second, I happen to really like training. It's good for the body."

Annoyingly enough, it was true. Neteyam tapped his heart, a few inches away from which a healed scar sat. You looked away abruptly as if your eyes were singed.

"I am not begging for your forgiveness, by the way, if that was what you were asking," you ran a hand through your curls with a snort. Neteyam had to buy himself a glance, even the tiniest one, but before he knew it you had dashed for the training compound.

Not even a few minutes in and you were so desperate to get away. Neteyam waded through a sea of young fighters to reconnect with you. You had taken to abusing a bag of sand, no doubt releasing some pent-up frustration through your fists. He tilted his head with a smile, chin leisurely rested in his hand.

You halted, eyeing him up and down. His amusement was a stranger to you and, honestly, you had to stave off the discomfort tingling in your skin from the way he stared.

Neteyam caught a blade you tossed his way.

"Okay, I get it," he raised an alarmed hand, "Early morning assassination attempt, very cool."

"Do not flatter yourself," you suppressed a chortle, "It is blunt."

He raised a brow as you assumed fighting stance, beckoning him over.

"If you plan to just stand there like an idiot, I don't suppose you would like to at least be a useful idiot."

"Of course," Neteyam obliged with a grin, swinging the weapon in his nimble hands.

You swung your knife with a lunge, movements aggressive as you worked on disarming him. He was quick to counter your attacks, blocking your attempts at every turn. Although Neteyam could beat you in a heartbeat, he settled for the back-and-forth you had eased into. He found himself savoring the image of you, all fierce-eyed, with tightly-knit brows and flared nostrils, indignant huffs escaping your lips now and again.

It was kind of endearing.

"Alright, forest boy," you conceded, "That's enough."

After a while, you accepted you couldn't beat him out of this stalemate.

"Seriously?" Neteyam watched, intent, as you curled indignantly into a ball on the sand, panting. "I didn't expect you to go down without a fight."

"Well, I am not invincible and, besides," you had to admit, though, with a begrudging eye-roll to maintain some semblance of animosity, "The way you fight... you are good."

Neteyam couldn't believe what he was hearing. You thought he was good. And then he began to smile, rather stupidly.

"Could it be that the fierce tsakarem of the Metkayina is actually being nice to me?" He reached out his arm, "There's a chance I'm still asleep, you'll have to pinch me."

"Is that-" you stood, eyes widened in mock horror, "Did your head just double in size?"

He clicked his tongue, "You know what you said."

You narrowed said eyes. Neteyam raised his hands appeasingly, suddenly struck by the image of Ronal ushering them back home after asking your clan for uturu.

"You know," He fiddled with the handle of his blade, "You're not so bad yourself."

Neteyam could have sworn he incited a smile. But it was gone as quick as he saw it, like one of those rare shells Tuk sought after then always complained when they washed away too fast for her liking.

You shook your head, unimpressed, as you brushed past him to retrieve some weapon.

His eyes traced an intricate path of ink along your forearm, a formidable symbol of your bygone iknimaya. It must have been quite the undertaking. He put it on the table after his family's arrival in your village, a time when he tried to acclimatize to your ways as fast as possible, pull his weight in clan duties to win the good faith of your people, become true Metkayina in their eyes.

At least then, Ao'nung would have the good sense not to pull on his tail all the damn time. Perhaps there would be a tiny chance that even you would take him seriously.

Praise Eywa, that was it.

"You fight well," he pressed on. "I think you've got all the right instincts."

"But I guess your technique could use a bit of work," he shrugged.

You raised an accusatory brow.

"Don't get me wrong, I mean- I trained a fair share of young warriors back home-"

"Your point?"

Boy, he'd gone and done it now. He just had to criticize. You must have been pissed off. Any chance of his plan to get you to warm up to him was near to being snuffed out at this point.

"Point being, if you ever needed help brushing up on your skills. I know somebody who would be into that."

His hand took a sudden interest in scratching his nape. Neteyam fully expected you to lecture him, disparage him, just something.

"Oh-kay," you stretched your arms, apparently unfazed, "Thanks for the offer."

"You're welcome?" he shrieked then cleared his throat, "Yeah, you're welcome."

A beat of silence burned his nervous ears.

"I am sensing there's more, though," you observed, looking down at him. "Am I right?"

"Busted," he yielded.

"Out with it then," you hassled.

He raised his heels up and down.

"Well, our brothers are undergoing their iknimaya in a few weeks," he began, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip, "And I plan to join them."

You yawned.

"Though, the truth is, I do not exactly know what I am getting myself into so I thought I would uh- enlist your help?"

"What?" you rubbed your face, "I thought you achieved iknimaya back home."

"I have," his tail wagged aimlessly. "But this is a different case. Different clan. It hasn't exactly been easy to belong all this time so this is important to me, in a way."

You removed the hand shielding your eyes, disarmed by this sudden display of vulnerability.

"Okay," you snorted. "Of all people, why ask me?"

"Word of mouth," he smiled submissively. "According to legend, you have a bit of a reputation for being one of the best."

You raised both brows. Neteyam noted that the apples of your cheeks slightly purpled at the mention of your past prowess.

You crossed your arms, chuckling insidiously. "What makes you think I would even want to help you?"

He shook his head with a growing smirk.

"I am not convinced you're as mean as they say you are."

Your face contorted in disbelief.

"Incorrect," you scoffed. "And I am not interested."

"Come on- at least think about it, I'd be hopeless without you-"

"You see, I just cannot bring myself to care."

Neteyam bit his lip, scanning you for a second, before heaving a sigh.

"Nevermind, you're probably busy all the time." he resigned, "I am sorry for asking, thanks anyways."

You watched coldly as he began to lug himself away, head hung low. What a skxawng. Only a fool would expect you to go out of your way for the sake of altruism. It was the right call. You hardly had the time, always preoccupied by some pressing matter or other. In what world would you sacrifice yourself in an act of goodwill?

You tapped your foot frantically as he gradually came out of view.

Your mind seemed to want you to stay put, but it was as if your cursed feet had other plans, sweeping you towards the direction in which he had disappeared.

Eywa help you for what you deigned to do next.

"Neteyam!"

He came to a halt halfway across the beach. You jogged up to face him.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?" Neteyam looked at you expectantly.

You exhaled harshly.

"I'll... help you."

"You will?"

You blinked, groaning inwardly.

"Yes..."

He exaggeratedly fell to his knees. "Oh, thank you, Great Mother, thank you."

"Get up," you chided. "I will help you but it won't be easy. I will not be easy on you."

Neteyam rejoiced, shit-eating canines making an appearance as he beamed at you.

"I expect nothing less."

You walked onwards.

"We will train at dawn so I expect your mornings for the rest of this week to be free."

"Copy that," he saluted.

You creased your brows, surmising it must have been some kind of strange sky people-speak.

"You will not, under any circumstances, be late."

He muttered a meagre, "Uh-huh."

"I am serious," you insisted, "Otherwise, I won't bother-"

"Okay, okay- I think I got the message."

"Good."

You started to walk onwards, briskly nudging his shoulder.

"I look forward to it," he hollered.

You turned around with an unamused glare.

"And don't be cute about it."

#neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x na'vi!reader #neteyam x metkayina!reader #neteyam sully x reader #atwow x reader #avatar x reader #neteyam #neteyam sully #atwow #avatar

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borathae · 7 months ago

Text

Stake Outs

“You get yourself into some trouble despite having been told to stay at home and Taehyung is the one who has to save you. Bear in mind, he will always save you, but he will also show you what recklessness and disobedience get you.”

Pairing: Gangster!Taehyung x f.Reader

Genre: Crime!AU, established relationship!AU, Dark Romance, some Fluff, Smut

Warnings: Rough & mean Dom!Taehyung, happy masochist sub!Reader, scary criminals are chasing her & want to hurt her, Tae saves her, graphic descriptions of killing people & blood, he is angry at her & scolds her, but they make up and it gets so emotional and soft, he is actually just a softie in love who was worried <3, fear of losing each other, a romantic stake out date in his car while it rains, dancing in the rain, making out in the rain, very!! public sex on an empty parking lot, outside. against his car. in the rain. (nhnnh), ass spanking, strength & size kink, buff!Tae for the win besties, he pins her down by her wrists & is generally a lot stronger than her, he cuts off her clothes with his knife, and traces her skin with it, he has a huge dick <3, rough sex from behind, he also fucks her on the backseat of his car, in doggy of course, he spits on her ass & fingers it with his thumb, sooo two hole double penetration with his cock & fingers, clit torture, overstimulation (f.receiving), forced orgasms (f.receiving), multiple orgasms (f.receiving), squirting, creampies, slight breeding kink for the sake of having cum inside NOT pregnancy, ownership kink kinda, subby girl tears, he definitely has a crying kink, ALSO! huge degradation kink for real (he calls her slut & whore and is a lil mean throughout the entire scene), but he also calls her good girl & babygirl <3, so praise kink as well hihi, i also want to say that she likes it when it feels as if he is "forcing" himself on her and she also likes it when he keeps going "eventhough she says stop", BUT everything happening is consensual and a safeword is discussed which she knows that she can always use!!, the most comforting & soothing aftercare where he makes sure that she feels loved <3, he also eats her out to soothe her and clean her, nipple play as he does it with praise, lots of cuddles and kisses <3, they're just really kinky and in love, OMFG I ALMOST FORGOT! Yoongi calls Tae while they fuck and Tae keeps going and therefore forces her to have to stay quiet, sooo rough doggy while Yoongi is on the phone and she has to stay quiet, so i think this is everything hahahf, despite these warnings this is a very safe & loving scene fjsdjf just extremly kinky & nasty mhmhm

Wordcount: 7.8k

a/n: imma keep it short cause the warnings are already so long djfadj just know besties, that this story did things to me and my strength kink. like holy fuck having buff!Tae pin me down and force me to my luck? fuckkckdkf imma just touch grass and keep my thots to myself. have fun besties, this is so hot & kinky and disgustingggg 😩🖤 happy birthday to Tae <3

He told you to stay out of it, but you didn’t listen and now you have to carry the consequences.

You managed to lose them in the crowd, but their presence creeps up on you more and more. With shaking fingers, you feed the telephone coins. His number comes easy to you. He picks up after the third ring.

“Vante speaking.”

“Tae, I didn’t listen. They’re gonna kill me. I’m in the fish district.”

You hang up and continue running. He’ll understand. You can’t stay at one place for too long. They’ll do terrible things to you if you slip into their hands. The streets are busy despite the heavy rain. Water slaps against your face and soaks your shoes.

The fish district isn’t actually called this way, but streets gain different names once one is on the dark side of the law. It isn’t far from where Taehyung currently is. You know that it won’t take him long to find you.

“Stop her!”

You look over your shoulder. They found you.

“Stop this fucking bitch!”

“Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

You run. No looking back. Run. Fucking run. Your escape route takes you into a darker alleyway.

“You can’t run from us!”

“I’ll show you what happens to whores once I get you!”

“Stupid bitch, running is only gonna make us angrier!”

There are three of them. All men, hungry for ruining a woman in the most inhumane way possible before killing her. You need to keep a cool head despite being scared shitless.

Another corner. Faster. You are almost where Taehyung will find you. Faster! Run!

Their footsteps echoe in the alleyways. Their starving heaving sounds like songs of death to you.

The path ends. A wall. No. Holy fuck no, you took the wrong turn. No.

You whip around. The three goons cut off your way back. They are inching closer, fletching their hypothetical teeth like a group of hungry predators.

“Stay away!” you warn them, waving around the knife Taehyung got you for self-defence.

They aren’t impressed, inching closer.

“Stay away!” you yell louder.

They don’t listen, but perhaps they should have. They reach out for you, but they never get to touch you. Taehyung makes sure of that as he slices the first of them in half. The other two turn around and try to fight him, but they are helpless against him.

Delivering death is his daily bread and wine. Taehyung perfected the game until even the masters of it were unable to beat him. Now he is the master. Once he is set on killing a person, their death sentence is written. And fuck, Taehyung wrote an especially cruel end for your attackers.

One loses his hands before his heart. The other gets shot in the knees and his throat slid open. Taehyung kicks him in the face, making sure that he stays down.

The rain washes off his victims’ blood, soaking his clothes and his hair. He is in his leather jacket because he ran the moment he got your call. No time to dress up and take a rain coat.

“Oh god, fuck”, you get out, knees buckling in relief.

Taehyung whips around. The weapons are stored away again, but his eyes are still murderous.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

“No, just in shock.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Means that I can do this. What the fuck were you thinking?” he closes the distance to you in big, angry steps. “I told you to stay at home and you disobeyed me. You reckless fucking woman. You almost got yourself killed.”

You can feel his breath from how close he is and with how much passion he spits his anger at you.

“I asked you for one thing. Stay home. That’s all I asked of you and you somehow were unable to follow this task? Why? Do you wanna fucking die? Cause if you do, just tell me and I’ll do it for you. No need to go out and worry me to death.”

He takes you by your shoulders and shakes you gently, staring at you with widened, emotional eyes. You let him shake you, just as you let him scold you.

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Save your fucking sorries. No sorry in this world would have saved you from being raped and murdered”, he spits and grabs your hand, “can you walk?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Good. Follow me.”

He tugs you with him. You follow him, feeling sick in guilt. He doesn’t even look at you, breathing heavily. His grip on you is possessive and angry, but doesn’t hurt. Deep down it is still a touch made from love. Taehyung could never hurt you. All this anger right now stems from a mixture of worry and his immense fear of losing you.

He parked his car not far from here. Somewhere he shouldn’t park, but he doesn’t give a fuck about.

“Inside”, he orders, opening the passenger door for you.

You try to talk to him at threshold of it, touching his chest. His heart is pounding against his ribcage. Another telltale sign of how upset the thought of losing you makes him.

“Tae, I’m sorry.”

“Inside. Now”, he snarls, lifting his brows in warning.

You follow because it is useless to try. He slams the door closed and rounds the car. Another slam of his door and then he already drives off.

Silence. Tension. Unsaid words.

You can take as much as a minute of it and then you have to try again.

“I thought that if I kept low, I wouldn’t get recognised.”

Silence.

“But one of them recognised my voice. I’m sorry.”

Silence. He is strangling the steering wheel in anger.

“Tae?”

“God damn it, ___!” he exclaims, slamming his hand on the wheel.

You flinch in surprise, holding your breath.

“You’re so fucking reckless. You think that I’m giving you this house arrest ‘cause I get off to it? I’ve been chasing these bastards for weeks, they’re ruthless and they stop at nothing to hurt me.”

“But now they’re dead?”

“No, their lowest of goons are dead. The fucking dead weight, the rats. And the king is still alive and now more wary than ever. For fuck’s sake, all I asked of you was to stay at home. You ruined the entire mission.”

He gestures with one hand, steering the car with the other.

“And you almost got yourself killed. Fuck.” He slaps the wheel. “Just thinking about what they would have done to you.” He exhales shakily, guiding his trembling hand to his mouth. “Baby, it would kill me if something happened to you”, he presses out in a quivering voice.

“Tae”, you get out, taking his hand. You kiss his knuckles, rubbing the tip of your nose against them. “I’m sorry.”

“Save your sorries”, you hisses, pulling his hand away.

“But I am.”

“Stick it. Fuck, I should-” he stops himself from saying something he doesn’t mean. He tenses his jaw, glances at you. “Fuck”, he presses out and looks away.

“Can I fix this somehow?”

“There’s nothing left to fix. You fucked up.”

“I’m sorry.”

He tenses his fingers around the steering wheel. Apologies won’t make it better.

“Thank you for saving me”, you whisper.

You are at a red light right now. His eyes gleam red as he glares at you. His jaw is tense.

“I know that I didn’t deserve it, so thank you.”

These words aren’t exaggeration. Taehyung is merciless with people who fuck up his missions. Some of his men never returned from their mistakes. Taehyung rarely saves when the reason is solely one’s own stupidity.

Technically you didn’t deserve to be saved tonight. Technically, you deserved to be assaulted and killed while the rain masked your screams. Technically you were a dead woman, but being Taehyung’s woman above anything else saved you. He’d set the world, which he was just about to save, on fire if it meant keeping you safe instead. This is what saved you. Being the love of his fucking life.

“If there is something I can do to repay you, I’ll do it”, you say.

Taehyung scoffs and looks away. He drives off without saying anything to you. He switches lanes, taking a road he normally doesn’t need to take home. You try to make sense of it, watching the unfamiliar city pass you by.

“Where are we going? Are you not taking me home?”

“Less questions, more silence.”

You gulp, hiding your hands between your legs. You get the feeling that you should really stay quiet right now. And you do so for the rest of the drive.

It ends on top of a rooftop parking space. Taehyung chooses the parking spot closest to the edge and furthest away from the entrance. Hidden in the darkness and overlooking the city. He turns off the motor and unbuckles the safety belt.

You look around. The street lamps flicker and give a dim light. Only three other cars are parked there. Each of them is empty.

“What are we doing here?” you ask.

“Waiting.”

“For what?”

“For hyung’s call.”

“Wait. I can be with you during the mission?”

“It’s not my first choice, but given how you are unable to follow even the simplest of tasks, the safest you can be is where I can see you”, he speaks his words with a certain sass to them. He is still angry with you.

You lower your head in shame.

“You’re still angry with me.”

“Not angry. Disappointed.”

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again.”

“Good. Cause I won’t save you if you ever do.”

This stings and Taehyung can see that it did. Insecure and hurt, you turn your knees away and try to hide the tremble of your lower lip. He regrets it instantly, trying to fix it.

“Hey”, he says, turning to you to cradle your cheek, “look at me.”

You obey, meeting his eyes. They are softer than before.

“I’m sorry. I take this back. You’re safe for as long as you’re my sweetheart. I’ll always save you, understood?”

“Yeah, understood”, you say, eyes hopeful.

“Good. But I can only keep you safe if you actually listen”, he says, speaking to you in a gentle voice.

You tear up, lower lip trembling.

“Tae, I’m sorry”, you choke out, having to stutter your next words, “someone called, called and said that, that they had you and that they would, would hurt you and I thought that I could sneak in and free you, but it was a trap and I-”

You have to gulp a few times before you can continue.

“I tried to disguise myself as I ran away but, but someone recognised my voice and, and they started chasing me. I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you left?”

“Yes.”

“Sweetheart, why didn’t you start with this? Oh, you let me scold you like this when it wasn’t even your fault?”

He pulls you into a hug as best as the position allows it. You nuzzle into his chest, closing your eyes. Finally you are home again.

“I deserved it. I should have known better than to believe that someone is able to capture you”, you mumble into him, pouting.

“You were worried and wanted to help me. I get it”, he assures you, kissing your head, “god you. You’re driving me crazy. Don’t ever do this again, please. Call me if you ever get a weird feeling, okay? Just don’t run off on your own.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good girl”, he says and lets go of you to cup your cheeks. He dries your tears, giving you a soft smile.

You retort it. The big weight on your heart is gone. It feels good again to look at him. Everything is right between you and him.

“So you love me again?” you ask him quietly.

“I’ll always love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry for scolding you.”

“It’s okay. I deserved it. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It’s already forgiven. Gimme a kiss, baby”, he say, leaning in.

You meet him in the middle, kissing him gladly. You and he truly saviour it for a moment, breaking it only once air is sparse. One last little caress of your cheek, then Taehyung sits back and shifts his eyes to the city. You are holding hands.

“Are we really on a mission right now?” you ask him.

“Yeah.”

“And I can stay with you?”

“Mhm, not letting you out of my sight again. Not after what almost happened.” He glances at you. “Why? Got somewhere better to be?”

“No.” You play with his rings mindlessly. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“How this feels just like old times. You know, when we were hunting my family’s killers. We spent multiple nights in your car, talking and eating junk food.”

Taehyung’s eyes soften as you bring the sweet memories to the surface. He begins drawing hearts on your skin.

“I felt so shattered and hopeless back then, but you helped me heal. You were the first person to make me laugh after the incident”, you say.

“I love your laugh”, Taehyung says in a soft voice.

You avoid his eyes bashfully, heart fluttering in your chest.

The rain dances on the roof of his car, filling it with its melodies. It rained often when you and he staked out your family’s murderers. The sound of it became a memory of healing and falling in love. Now every time you are in a car and it rains, you think of Taehyung and your beginnings.

“I can’t ever lose you, Tae. Not to this life, not to cruelty or, or-”

“Hey”, he stops your anxious stuttering, tilting your head up with two fingers under your chin, “what happened to your family, won’t happen to me. I promise that I won’t let people slaughter me.”

“I can’t go through this again. You’re the only family I have left. I can’t do this again”, you confess in a whisper.

“And you won’t have to.”

“When I got this call today, everything short circuited. All I could see were my dead siblings and mom and dad and, and you. All dead. I was so scared, Tae.”

“I know darling, I know.” He kisses your forehead, soothing you immensely, “I promise that the only thing you are going to lose me to is old age. I’m gonna go at a hundred and ten in my sleep.”

His cute promise makes you snicker. Taehyung joins you, squeezing your hand gently.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

You exhale shakily, looking into his eyes.

“Thank you. I promise you the same. Well, this presupposes that I actually listen and stay at home when you tell me to.”

He chuckles, eyes incredibly warm and adoring.

“I will listen. Promise. Unless you’re actually in danger, then I won’t listen. I-”, you cringe, “sorry, I’m not making it any better, am I?”

“No, you’re perfect”, he assures you and kisses you, smiling into it as he does.

You kiss him back happily and with a racing heart. He ends it by tugging on your lower lip, smiling again when he pulls back. He gives your chin a little caress, relaxing back afterwards. His hand comes to rest on your thigh, caressing it gently.

You and he enjoy a moment of rainy silence, watching the city sleep.

“So for how long do you think we have to wait for his call?” you ask after a relaxed while.

“Don’t know. Could be ten minutes, but could also be all night. Depends on how efficiently Yoongi’s guys work.”

“All night? God.” You sink into the seat. “Can’t you drop me off at home?”

“Not happening. If I have to be bored, I might as well drag you into it too. You are going to be bored with me.”

“Wow, I married such a considerate sweetheart.”

He chuckles, “besides, when was the last time we were truly alone?”

You glance at him. He is smiling playfully.

“I guess you’re right. So this is official? We’re on a date?”

“Yeah, a stake out date. Granted, I’d have preferred a dine out date, but this is good too.”

“I don’t. This is great. It’s just like old times.”

He hums and kisses your cheek, “you convinced me, but that means that we need music. Open the glove box.”

You do.

“No way. You still have the mixtapes?” you gasp, cradling the cassette tapes you made Taehyung for your first year anniversary.

“Of course I do. They’re precious to me.”

“I can’t believe that you kept them. God, you have no idea how difficult it was to make them. I had to search heaven and hell for a functioning tape recorder. Then when I finally did, I almost didn’t get it to work”, you say, feeding his car radio one of the mixtapes.

Slow jazzy music starts playing. You and Taehyung made out a lot to this mixtape. Like, a lot.

“Still totally worth it. This music is timeless”, you say and hum to it, letting your fingers dance over the dashboard.

It is rather peculiar that Taehyung doesn’t say anything or sing with you. Curious, you check up on him only to realise that he is gazing at you like a love drunk puppy.

“What’s with that face?” you ask him.

“Just thinking that you’re beautiful and that you haven’t aged a day.”

“Shut up”, you shy away, nudging his arm.

“I mean it.” He intertwines his fingers with you. “You just got more beautiful with the years.”

“Thanks”, you mumble, smiling shyly.

“Come, dance with me.”

“Dance. In the pouring rain?”

“I’ve been seeing death for days, let me have my moment of happiness.”

“Wow, you old charmer. You know just what women want to hear”, you tease him.

He laughs, squeezing your hand. He rests his head against the seat, showing you a boxy smile. His thumb draws hearts on your skin as he talks.

“What if I tell you that I’m happy that you’re my wife and that I want to kiss you in the pouring rain?”

“Mhm, that’s better.”

“See? I can be romantic too”, Taehyung jokes and gets out of the car. He rounds it and opens the door for you, helping you get outside. The door stays open so the music is still audible.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” he asks in a posh accent, bowing deeply.

You snicker.

“Why, yes of course you may, good sir”, you joke, doing a curtsy.

He takes your hand and melts close.

The rain pours down on you, soaking you to the bone. It doesn’t bother you at this moment. Not when Taehyung dances with you and looks at you as if you were his everything. The dance is on the slower side. It is such a nice thing to experience.

You and he don’t get to do a lot of romantic stuff. His life is busy and it is dark. Cruelty, death and constant danger force him to keep tenderness and romance as far away as possible. Nobody would take a hopeless romantic serious and daydreaming way too big would only get him killed. Taehyung needs to be reserved and cold and pragmatic in order to keep his position as a powerful, well respected and feared leader. So moments like right now are sparse and precious.

“You still know how to dance”, you say, gazing at him. His dark hair sticks to his face. He is so beautiful. Almost to the point where he doesn’t seem real.

“Of course I do. I don’t forget stuff like this”, he says and picks you up with his arms under your butt so he can twirl.

You let it happen with a happy squeal and your eyes closed. Truly, you and he are eternal in this moment. He sets you down once you are a little dizzy, nuzzling his face against yours and giggling. You giggle too.

Taehyung is playful when it is just you and him. Such moments are rare because even in your own home, there are guards or some of his goons constantly present. You and Taehyung don’t get time without witnesses often, so you sometimes forget just how playful he actually is. Until such a rare moment comes again and you are reminded.

This right now is such a moment. You and he, alone on this rooftop parking lot while other humans are far away.

You and he break apart for a moment just to twirl in the rain with outstretched arms and your faces greeting the sky.

He laughs louder and he laughs longer. He also seems to glow more and when he closes the distance to you, he does so in a playful, happy way. He skips through almost every puddle having formed on the ground, ending it by kicking some of the water at you.

“Hey”, you complain in a giddy squeal, shielding yourself. “Not cool.”

“I know. I’m an ass”, he says and puts his arms around your waist. He presses close, claiming your lips in a surprise kiss.

“Mhm”, you let out, needing a quick second to make sense of your sweet situation. When it finally sinks in, you fall hard. Your arms hook behind his head and your fingers bury themselves in his hair. You moan softly, letting his eager tongue taste you just as you taste him back.

He purrs, pressing you against the car and deepening the kiss.

You and Taehyung made out a lot to this mixtape and it seems that he wants to take you down sweet memory lane tonight. The kiss just doesn’t seem to want to end. It goes on and on and on until you feel dazed and out of breath.

He is the one to break it, visibly struggling with the effects of it. His hands just can’t come to rest on your body, wanting to touch you everywhere at the same time. His quickened breath tickles your face, his eyes are hazy.

“You have to stop me”, he whispers.

“Stop you from doing what?”

“Taking you.” He grips your hips, staring at your lips. “Having you.” He kisses your neck, mouthing at it sinfully well. “Fucking you. You have to stop me from fucking you.”

Your brain totally stops working because all the blood is shooting straight to your pussy. It has been a while since you were with Taehyung. Again, he is a very busy man and romance is sparse. Tonight, you also thought that you would lose him and he has been such a sweetheart on your date. There are no reasons why you wouldn’t be turned on as well. You don’t want to stop him.

You push him away from you only to grab his leather jacket, looking into his eyes submissively.

“Fuck me.”

“Darling, you’re supposed to stop me.”

“I don’t want you to stop. Please. Take me, have me. Fuck me.”

“Here? Now?”

“Yes. Please fuck me.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, for fuck’s sake.”

He chuckles and tries to kiss you, but you stop him with a finger on his lips. Said finger, he instantly licks and kisses, looking at you as if he was sin personified.

“And please. Be mean to me and, and make it hurt a little”, you plead.

“Are you sure?” he asks, swirling his tongue around the tip of your finger. How wish this to be your nipple instead or your clit.

“Yes, I’m sure. I wanna be punished for disobeying you.”

He purrs, cradling your hand to kiss a path down your arm. Your wrist and lower arm until he does a total switch and kisses your neck instead. It feels so good that you have a difficult time to say your words.

“I wanna get one of your lessons so I won’t forget. Please…” you beg him, exposing your neck to him.

“One of my lessons?” He purrs, mouthing at your pulse point. “The one where I make it hurt and you cry so prettily for me?”

“Yeah…that one.”

“Fuck, sweetheart.” He cups your face, looking into your eyes intensely. “Do you know your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Good girl, don’t forget that you can use it whenever you need to. Even when I’m really mean to you and you think that you’re not allowed to. You are always allowed to stop this. Okay?”

“Yes, okay. I trust you.”

“You can. Fuck, Imma punish you so well, make it feel so good.”

“Tae, please”, you beg, scratching down his sculpted chest because you feel oh so needy.

“Bend over for me.”

“Over the car?”

“Yes. Don’t let me wait.”

“Oh god, this is so hot.”

You let him shift you into place. He puts you over the hood of the car, guiding your arms on top of it as well. He runs his hands along your torso and to your hips.

“So pretty. Looking so ready for me to use”, he purrs and gives your ass a playful spank.

“Ah”, you let out, chasing his hand.

“Can’t wait to get my hands on you”, he says and takes out his knife. He uses it to undress you. Within seconds, he has your pants and panties cut off you, exposing your sweet holes to him.

You moan, writhing sensually. The rain is cold on your skin and the tip of his knife draws patterns on your buttocks and thighs. You know that he would never cut you, so this is just incredibly sexy to you.

“So fucking sexy”, Taehyung purrs, pushing your legs apart so your pussy was better exposed. He watches as she opens up, hole clenching needily as if it was begging for his cock. “Shit, I can’t wait to sink into you, sweetheart.”

You lift your butt, “please do.”

“Trust me, I will.”

He steps back and begins undressing. He puts the knife on the hood next to you and shrugs off his leather jacket to put it over you.

“So you stay warm.”

Next he opens his zipper and pushes his briefs down to take out his hard cock and bulging balls. He jerks himself a few times, making sure that you are able to get the hardest version of him. Taehyung feels high. His cock looks so good in the rain. He can’t wait to sink it into your ready cunt.

“Tae, please hurry.”

“Don’t stress me.” He spanks you hard, making you mewl and twitch. “You’re gonna get my cock when I decide that it’s time. Not a second sooner.”

“Oh god”, you whimper, writhing on the car. He is so mean. It turns you on so much.

“There we go. That’s better”, he purrs and closes the distance to drag his bulging tip over your pussy. He started off at your ass, giving your hole one second of pressure to remind it that he could claim it whenever he wanted to. It was quite frankly, orgasmic to experience. Then he finally lets your pussy get a taste. He grinds on your clit, switching it up with circles on your needy entrance.

“Look at you. Your pussy’s begging me for cock.”

You mewl and writhe, pussy clenching even harder. His dark chuckle makes you want him even more.

“So needy.”

Your ruined pants are pooling by your ankles, keeping your movements just a little limited. Not that you plan on running away. Getting fucked in the pouring rain on top of his car while in public? A dream come true. Quite frankly, you are pretty sure that the liquid running down your inner thighs is not rain but your own arousal. This is such a turn on to you and as Taehyung finally sinks into you, you moan as sinfully as possible, pressing back to have him as soon as possible.

“That’s it. Press back. Take all of me.”

“Thank you”, you whimper, earning yourself a little caress. He likes it when you’re polite.

“So wet, darling. I’m going insane.” He rubs your lower back. “How are you doing? Do I hurt?”

“No, you feel so good. Please move.”

“Mhm, fine…I will...such a demanding girl”, he taunts, picking up a slow, dragged out rhythm as the beginning. He wants you to get used to him, to feel every fucking inch of him leave and enter you repeatedly. He wants you so sensitive to his girth that you will scream once he picks up the tempo.

He also knows that you could be so much wetter. Granted, you are already dripping, but he can do better. He wants you sticking to his cock so sinfully that even the rain won’t be able to wash you off.

The rain.

Taehyung rolls his head back, staring up into the endless darkness. The rain hits his face in thick droplets.

“Fuck darling, I can’t believe that I’m fucking you in the pouring rain like you’re a common whore I paid for a quick fuck on the parking lot.”

You squeeze down on him, knees buckling.

Taehyung smirks darkly, letting his eyes roll back just a little. Of course this would excite you. You are so obsessed with degradation.

“So fucking sexy, babygirl. I paid for the best pussy”, he taunts, playing into it for your sake.

“Tae, oh god.” You clench and throb. “Faster, please.”

“Shit, you even beg like a whore.”

“Please”, you mewl, dripping uncontrollably.

Taehyung purrs, rolling his head to the front. He digs his right hand into your hip and picks up a different rhythm. Faster. Just like you begged him to.

With his left hand he pins your arm behind your back, keeping you hostage. He likes watching how you clench and stretch your fingers helplessly as he rearranges your insides. It makes him so aware of how vulnerable and small you are and how easy it is for him to have complete control over you.

Taehyung is a big man. He wasn’t always like this. When you and he met, he was a slim man. But years of training and keeping his victims pinned down, grew his body. Sometimes, you rarely even recognize him, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. He makes you feel so safe and at the same time so small.

Especially right now. When he has you over his car, pinned into place and fed his thick cock.

“Tae-ae-ae”, he knocks his nickname out of you in a constant moan of ecstasy as he drills his cock into you.

“Yeah, you keep moaning my name. That’s who owns you, darling”, he encourages you, writing his name against your sensitive spots just to make it really stick.

“More please. More.”

“Needy slut”, he growls, hitting you straight across the ass before he picks up strength. “I can’t satisfy you, can I?”

He curses and spanks you again, making you squeal and writhe. He thinks that the view of you sprawled out on top of his car might be the best view he had all week. Gritting his teeth, he pins you down harder, knocking a helpless yelp out of you as he angles his cock deeper.

You are shaking so much, but this isn’t what he needs. Goddamn fucking pants. They’re keeping him from truly connecting with you. He wants to feel your ass against his crotch and his balls slap against you.

“More please”, you beg and Taehyung knows that this won’t be satisfactory anymore. He puts great emphasis on satisfaction. In every aspect of life, satisfaction is very important to him.

He slips out of you, ignoring your needy begs. He takes you into a gentle headlock, pressing his lips against your ear to whisper darkly. You can feel his strong chest like this, drooling on his arms as you feel the muscles bulge around you.

“I’m not satisfied. So shut the fuck up and let me do my shit. Understood?” he warns.

“Yes, please.”

“Good. Walk”, he orders and gives you a shove. Your left hand is still pinned to your back, you are still in a headlock and your legs are still constricted by your pants. If he wasn’t so strong and held you so safely, you definitely would stumble. He guides you to the backseat door.

His backseat is very spacious and you know exactly what he is going to do. You writhe in his hold, aching because it isn’t happening to you yet.

“Open it.”

You open the door.

“Get inside.”

You step out of your ruined pants and get inside. You stay on all fours, waiting for him.

Taehyung takes off his pants and briefs, keeping them outside. He climbs inside, but keeps the door open.

His touch makes you moan and stick your ass out.

“You’re such a good girl”, he praises and sinks into you.

He doesn’t waste any time, burying himself as deep as possible.

“Yes, that’s it”, he moans, rolling his head back. Another moan leaves him when he picks up a rhythm, now finally able to fuck you with all of him.

You can feel it too. Taehyung’s cock in doggy hits especially hard. He is so big. When he comes in from behind, you can really feel just how much he has to offer. He fucks places so deep that you fear for your sanity.

“Faster Tae, please.”

“You’re driving me fucking insane”, he growls, picking up speed. He spanks you three times, grabbing your wrists afterwards to pin them on your back. You rest on your shoulder, head bend to the side and cheek squished against the leather seat. You don’t want to fight him, but still squirm. Staying calm is impossible when he makes you feel so good. Besides, when you squirm it means that he will use more strength on you and this is the hottest thing ever.

His hands are big enough that he only needs to use one to keep you place, using the other to spread you apart.

“Stop squirming. I know you want me”, he warns.

“Want you”, you whimper, writhing in bliss.

“Yeah, you do. Needy slut. Take me. Take all of me. Such a good cunt. Shit, you’re the sexiest babygirl”, he is babbling, staring like an addict at his own cock in your pussy. You get him so creamed. Your pussy moves around his veiny girth so sexily. You are so stuffed and stretched. And your pretty ass. Your hole keeps clenching needily. So empty. He gathers his saliva and lets it trickle down on your hole. He plays with it a little, giving you time to stop him. You don’t stop him, you press back and arch your back.

So he sinks his thumb into you, keeping you spread with his other fingers.

You sob his name and Taehyung knows that he did something right.

“Of course you’d cry. You’re such a fucking slut”, he taunts, twisting his thumb in you as he abuses your g-spot with his cock.

You agree with more sobs. You are a slut and he is satisfying even your most whorish of needs. You are completely his’. Stuffed to the brim and moulded to him. This is everything you ever needed.

His thumb in your ass burns just perfectly. You are so tight and his thumb is so big. Pairing it with his huge cock and your stuffed pussy is an experience so sinful even the devil is afraid to speak of it. But you love speaking it, moaning his name as he pushes you to the brink of insanity.

The sound of his phone rips you back to reality. Taehyung pulls his hand away from your wrists, letting out an exasperated sigh. He looks for his phone in his jacket.

“No. No please”, you beg.

You are hurting for what is to come. Taehyung is going to pull out. You don’t want this to end. Please.

“Hey, hyung.”

You tense up. Taehyung is still inside you, fucking into you in a deep, punishing rhythm while twisting his thumb in your ass. He didn’t pull out, on the contrary, he seems to go even harder than before. You look behind yourself. He is clearly talking on the phone, keeping a piercing gaze on you.

“Yeah, I can talk”, he says and wedges the phone between his shoulder and head.

He knits his brows in warning. Quiet. This is what is telling you with it. Quiet. It should be an easy task if he didn’t slip his fingers to your clit to pinch and roll it while his cock writes his name against your g-spot and his thumb curls in your ass.

You muffle your squeaks with your own hand, begging him.

“Mhm yeah, I got it.” He talks nonchalantly, as if the fuck wasn’t affecting him, “no, yeah I got it. Anything else?”

Yoongi seems to be talking again. Taehyung listens while he rearranges your guts one harsh thrust at a time. Staying quiet is impossible, but you are forced to try. You bury your face in the seat, keeping your hand pressed to your face. He needs to slow down or you will scream.

“Got it. That was easy. Mhm? No, I’m alright. Why are you asking?”

He thrust into you. His balls slap against you, your body shudders. A small whimper escapes you.

“Oh that? No, just taking care of some business. You’re not disturbing me at all.”

Deep, hard pounding. Angry, punishing. So good. So fucking good, please you need to scream.

“As a matter of fact, you could talk to me some more if you want to.”

No please no. Please you have to scream please. Taehyung laughs deeply, tugging on your clit at the same time. You bite your own hand, hoping to any higher deity that Yoongi can’t hear the moans you have to let out. Taehyung is making you cum. It feels so good but you have to be quiet. This is agony.

“No, I get it. You’re busy too. Thanks for the info. I’ll be there in twenty. I still gotta finish this job. Judging by the state of them, it’s not gonna take long.”

Another laugh. Harsh thrusts. As if he isn’t currently fucking your climaxing body into a state of total overstimulation and pleasure overload.

“See you soon, hyung. Bye.”

He ends the call and throws the phone on the floor.

“Good job, you fucking slut actually stayed quiet. Such a good girl.”

You scream and sob instantly, clawing at the leather seats helplessly.

“What’s that? Oh? I’m making you cum and it hurts to be fucked through it? Darling, I know. That’s why I’m doing it.”

He grips your hip and pulls you back on his cock. Over and over again while he tortures your poor clit and abuses your tight ass.

“Please! Please, Tae! Please!”

“Stop fucking crying. I know you. I know you beg me to stop, but deep down you want me to continue. Admit it, slut. Admit that you’re only really liking it when I make it hurt.” he snarls, showing you your truth one painful thrust at a time. He isn’t wrong. You fucking love it when it hurts, when he is making it feel as if he is forcing his cock into you, as if he is forcing you to your luck. This is when it starts to really feel good.

“Oh god, Tae. It hurts, I have to- again. Ah!”

“See! I know you. What a dirty pain slut you are. Cum for me, babygirl. Cum for your master”, he encourages you, helping you through your intense high until you clasp the seat and kick and squirt everywhere. “Such a good girl, let go. Give me everything.”

“Please breed me! Please!”

“Mhhm fuck…” he growls, scrunching his nose, “beg for it.”

“Please! Please! Please!”

“There we go. Now stay still”, he orders and pins you down into the seat. He curls his thumb inside your abused ass, pressing down in his cock this way. His thrusts are harsh and bring you to your limit. This is for him. You can feel it clearly. This is for him and he doesn’t give a shit how sensitive you are.

Your little sobs are only motivating him to rut into you deeper until he finally finds his release.

He moans your name as it hits him, burying his cock as deep as possible so you feel it fill you to the fucking brim.

“Yours, Tae…yours…”

“Yeah mine. All mine. Fuck, you feel so good. Mhhmmmm…”

He stops once he is satisfied. He slips his thumb out of your ass and uses his hands to take your wrists and pin them above your head.

His cock is still inside you, throbbing slowly as he recovers from his high.

“Good job. My good girl. Breathe baby, breathe. It’s over now”, he soothes you, kissing a path up your back before he lies down on top of you, kissing your neck slowly. “Breathe. It’s over.”

You breathe with him. You feel so ruined and satisfied. You could honestly cry and maybe you do. Taehyung kisses the tears away.

“How’s the pain? Did I go too far?”

“No, it’s so good”, you mumble, sniffling.

“Mhm, that’s what I like to hear. My good girl. You did so well.”

“Tae, wanna look at you.”

“Let me help you.”

With his guiding hands he flips you over. Sadly, he has to slip out for it. You instantly leak, wishing for him to be back inside you. Your eyes meet.

“Hey, how are you?” he whispers, cupping your cheek softly.

You whimper tiredly, nodding your head to showcase that you were okay but you were just very exhausted.

“You did so well, I’m so proud of you”, he praises and kisses your cheek.

You mumble something unintelligible. Taehyung studies you from head to toe.

“Fuck, I was really rough with you, wasn’t I? You look ruined. Are you sore?”

You nod your head, but smile happily.

“You are? Fuck, you’re not bleeding are you?”

He checks. You let him, opening your legs for him. You know that you aren’t because Taehyung would never make you bleed (unless you want him to. No further questions please).

“No, you’re not. Fuck, but you look so loose. You can’t even keep it in. Sorry, baby. Here, let me make it better. Relax. Let me help you.”

He lies down between your legs as best as the car allows it, putting your legs over his shoulders. He cups your tits as a little treat for you and connects his mouth with your tender pussy.

“Ah”, you get out, arching your back and grabbing his hair. The pleasure is instant, going so fucking deep.

He is so warm and soft. And so gentle. He is so fucking gentle that it shoots tears to your eyes.

“Tae, oh god.”

“Mhhhm I love well fucked pussy. You taste like heaven, babygirl”, he lulls, lapping at you hungrily afterwards. He rolls your nipples over your shirt, gazing up at you.

“Good…aaahm…”

“Mhhm, so good…”

This is why you love him. This right here is why there won’t ever be a better lover than him. He can break you and ruin you, but he will always make sure to soothe you and build you back up afterwards. His mouth can spit the meanest things, but he will make sure to use it for adoration afterwards. You won’t ever feel ugly or disgusting or used after Taehyung was rough with you because he will make sure that you feel how much he appreciates you. And how fucking deep his respect for you goes.

Almost as deep as his wet tongue goes as he laps out the massive creampie he left in you. His nose rubs your clit like this, forcing you to whimper and tremble. His lips stimulate your outer pussy. You are so sensitive, but it feels so good. His fingers on your nipples do the rest.

“Tae, I have to cum again”, you sob, throwing your hand over your eyes, “oh god, Tae. It’s-” little mewls silence you.

Taehyung moans, burying his face deeper in your pussy. He uses his nose to really get your clit, curling his tongue inside you.

He knows the moment it hits you because you squeak and tug on his hair painfully before the deep pulsing of your pussy sets in. Taehyung helps you through it, moaning deeply and enjoying it just as much as you do.

It feels so good to you. He makes you feel so safe and loved and deeply satisfied. Satisfied to the point where even his tender mouth hurts after your high. You writhe away, pulling at his hair.

“No more, please. No more.”

Taehyung listens, letting you tug him away. He kisses a path up to your face, holding you close once he reaches it.

“Thank you”, he whispers between his kisses, “thank you for letting me taste it. Did you like this?”

“Yeah”, you whimper, twitching in his arms as your body recovers from the gentle yet still intense high.

“That’s good. You’re the best girl. I’m so proud. And fucking high on you. Can’t get enough of you.”

You snicker, snuggling into him.

“I love you, babygirl.”

“I love you too. Oh god, I feel so giddy”, you confess and giggle, squeezing him.

“That’s good to hear. I love when you’re happy after sex. Was it good for you?”

“Yeah it was so good. You did everything so right. I was so overstimulated and it hurt, but you didn’t stop”, you sigh dreamily, “thank you so much. You know me so well and I…I feel so safe with you.”

“You are safe with me, darling.” He smiles his giddiest boxy smile, brushing his fingers over your face. You rest in his strong arms, basking in the safety he provides and getting droopy from his warm post-sex scent. He smells especially good after sex.

“I can’t believe someone so perfect is mine”, he whispers, “I’ll think about tonight forever.”

“Me too. Oh god, I can’t stop giggling. I feel so good”, you say and giggle.

He smiles, scrunching his nose giddily. He likes you so much when you’re like this. You are especially cute, making him want to protect you and hold you close.

And he does. He gives you one of his really tight bear hugs, increasing your giggles and happiness

Taehyung’s phone rings again, kind of ruining the moment.

“Ah shit, Yoongi! I completely forgot!” Taehyung exclaims and rolls over so aggressively that he rolls off the seats. “Crap, he’s gonna kill my ass. Twenty minutes I said. Twenty. I’m a dead man, seriously. Where is this fucking phone?”

You snicker, watching him scramble to get his phone.

“Don’t just laugh at me. Help me look”, he whines, only making you laugh harder.

“I can’t. You were so funny when you fell off the seat with your naked ass out.”

He chuckles and pecks your lips.

“Haha very funny, now help me look.”

“Okay, okay fine. Where did you throw it?”

807 notes · View notes

bi-writes · 1 year ago

Text

you're cooking when you notice him. you finish dicing the onion on your cutting board, and when you look up, you smile when you see the looming shadow that takes up the space behind your curtains. (mercenary!ghost x fem!reader, 18+)

"hi, spooky skeleton," you giggle, turning around and dropping the onions into the pot. the sizzle warms your apartment, and when you turn back around, you smile wider when he's come out from the shadows, closer, already on the other side of the kitchen island and only a few steps away from you.

he's geared up. vest thick and heavy strapped to his chest, the hood of his rain jacket over his head to further conceal the skull mask he wears. he stands tall, back straight and eyes narrowed, what little you could see of them. you put the cutting board down, twirling the kitchen knife you hold in your hand before holding it out in front of you, putting the sharp tip against the center of his chest.

"slow down there, big boy," you coo. "did you do as i told you?"

he snarls a bit before fishing a phone out of his pocket, tossing it onto the counter. you look down at it, watching the video playing. it's your mark, slobbering in tears, begging for his life. he pleads, holds up his hands, shakes his head, says that he's sorry in every language he knows until there's a satisfying hole in the middle of his forehead, a lone trail of blood making its way down his face. you think it looks like he's crying tears of blood. it's oddly poetic.

you look back at him, meeting his dark eyes, and you draw your hand back, setting the knife down. with your other hand, you drag your knuckles down the side of his masked face, puckering your lips and blowing him a dramatic kiss.

"such a proficient one, you are," you murmur. "what is that? third one this week?"

"want m'prize," he growls, and you step closer hooking your fingers into the collar of his vest and blowing him another kiss. then, you reach for the kitchen drawer next to you and pull it, taking out a thick envelope and handing it to him.

"you're making them very happy, ghost," you tap the plastic of the skull, giggling. "they like you a lot. got time for another?"

he clicks his tongue, tilting his head to the side, and you squeak when he reaches down and grips both sides of your ass with two big hands. you laugh, but it turns into a breathless moan when those hands slip under your skirt and tug at the lace of your panties.

"i want the real prize, want wot 'm owed," ghost says lowly. you stand up on your toes, pressing your mouth to his over his mask. you let your hands fall, pressing on the backs of his hands, encouraging him to slip a few fingers under the lace and prod the entrance of your sticky cunt.

"you want it, baby?" you whimper. "do you?"

"yes--" you feel him bite from under the mask, and you stick your tongue out, licking over the line of his bottom lip, your pride swelling when you feel how shaky he breathes as you tease him. "give it t' me--"

there it is. now i have you.

"well..." you press your pelvis to his, rocking against his fingers, and he hisses when he feels the way you soak the fabric of his gloves. he wants to eat it, he wants to have you, he wants what he was promised. "gotta do somethin' for me first, ghost. gotta job for you. can't pay you for it though, not the way you like."

you think you see him smile under the mask, the corners of his eyes crinkling as if he likes what he hears. as if he knows what it is you will give him if he just does as you say.

"y'know wot it is tha' i want, don't you, swee'eart?"

yes, you think, and you respond by giving the front of his mask a kiss, one you think he reciprocates by the way he cradles the back of your head.

i know what it is that you want because...i want it, too.

2K notes · View notes

strungnews · 4 months ago

Text

WHAT WOULD I DO WITHOUT YOU?

It’s the same question Mark always asks when he’s in a pinch. Always seemingly there when he needs you most, covering his ass multiple times because of his recklessness.

“What would I do without you?”

He asks then again, feeling your fingers brush and dry the tears away from his face.

“Probably burying your head into a pillow and making a terrifying print of your face on it.” You joked. He always appreciated that about you. Light hearted at the best of times, even if it seemed inappropriate for the moment. He never cared if you were blunt like a bad knife, he’d rather you were straightforward than be full of twists and turns.

“Dick.” He sniffles. And you give him that old comforting smile, an infectious thing you have that always makes him smile back.

“What would-I do without you?” He says breathless. Dry heaving onto damp sand, coughing up more of the salty water. His lips feel chapped, despite being soaked to the bone.

“Dead, bloated in the water. Fishes wouldn’t even eat you with how much hair gel you put on.” You pat his back, harder this time. And he coughs up violently and grips at the grains below. An appreciative grin graces his face when he finishes, looking a lot better than earlier.

His hair flops to his forehead on queue, he opens his mouth in defense, but only shakes his head slowly. The droplets of water flickering on your face and knees.

“Yeah, probably.” He agrees hoarsely. The sun beats down on him when you stand, the shade of your shadow now gone to comfort him. “Let’s get you some water, real ones.” You say, offering your hand as he looks up to watch you, the sun blinding him.

He takes your hand, gripping at it tight, and you pull and pull for him to stand. Clashing back down to the sandy ground when you fall back with him; laughing.

“You were supposed to lift me up!”

“You’re too heavy!”

“What would I do without you?” He says, quietly. Leaning his head on your shoulder while the two of you look outside the window of his room, the moon being the only source of light.

You wrap your arm around his shoulder, and let him lean to your chest as he gently breathes. His hair devoid of product, only the smell of fresh laundry clinging on him as you inhale.

You shrug lightly. Hand rubbing his arm up and down in a slow motion, your cheek mushes on the crown of his head when you answer. “Lots of things,”

You feel him shake his head. Sighing deeply.

“Thats a lie.” He mumbles.

“Why would I lie?” You ask, quick and genuine. Now watching his chest rise and fall while he plays a circle on your leg. A heavy shrug against you.

“Dunno, to cheer me up I guess?”

“Well. Is it working?” He bristles, silently laughing and he shakes his head no.

“You suck at this.”

“Better than nothing.” You kiss his head, an act you’ve done on numerous occasions in the time you became his best friend. He moves and faces his body completely towards you, wrapping you in a hug.

“Thank you.”

“What would I do without you!” Mark cheers, jumping up and down in joy with you in his arms. You jostle and stumble in his hold, a bit sick from all the movement.

He lets go, and spins around. Taking the letter of acceptance and pointing at it with a huge smile on his face.

“I can’t believe it! Im going to college with Amber!” That stung. More than the time you were bitten by the beetle he found on the side of the road.

Still, you shrug it off. A sly smile and jab to his arm.

“Well, let’s just say you’d be out there working at Burgermart till the smell of grease stuck to you till death.” You and him laugh.

“Still, if you didn’t help me with the studying, i’d probably have to go someplace else! No thanks to William for the help.” He grumbles, putting it back down on the counter, a bit more tired than his usual energetic personality a few moments earlier.

“I can’t screw things up with Amber, not this time.” He says, more to himself than for the both of you. You lean back on his cabinet, nodding.

He talks some more, but you don’t listen. Your ears going fuzzy and hazy while staring down at the ground. He’s recalling moments and times that you’ve already heard of before, it seems like he’s got it all figured out.

“What would I do without you?” He smiles, taking Eve’s hand in his. His face is practically beaming, expression screaming ‘i love you’ when he looks at her.

He used to say that to you.

Mark finally introduced Eve to you, but you already had a feeling about her before everything. The missions, the attacks, you already knew who it was with the way he spoke with such fondness.

Why couldn’t he do that with you?

“Shut up, dork. Are you gonna order or what?” Eve’s gaze flitters to Mark, then you. Giving a big warm smile that you have a hard time giving back.

“Fine, fine. I’ll just get my usual, same with you?” He asks, you. Eyes finally peeled away from Eve, staring at you.

“Yeah, you know my usual.” You say, and smile. Closing the menu and sliding it to the middle of the table. Watching Mark handle the waiter to order everyone else’s food.

“So, tell me. Is Mark as much of a geek as he is now?” Mark sweats at her prying tone, a pleading expression as he looks over at Eve and you.

There’s nothing you can do, nothing to do. Only to fake it till you make it, hopefully on the other side.

“Man, wait till you hear about that one time he blamed me for leaving dirty laundry in the bathroom. He had the gall to say those dog printed boxers were mine!”

Eve’s laugh bounces in your head like an echo chamber. It kind of makes you smile, having this effect on him and her.

“Please, stop.” Mark begs, and you lean in to the table to continue.

“And after that, he made up a whole complicated story to try and get off scott free. Can you believe that? Him throwin’ me under the bus because he can’t admit those were his?” Eve’s in hysterics. Something about the way you spoke and told the story, made it out to be funnier than what had actually happened.

“Oh my god.” Mark’s red, from embarrassment or shame, you don’t know which it is. But you’re cherishing the moment each second.

“What do I do without you?” You sob. Ugly crying right beside his unconscious body, shaking like a leaf battling against the violent winds.

It’s been day since he’d last woken. A day since you saw his broken arms and bruised body. Blood covering him like it was his skin.

You haven’t cried this much since he had told you about him and Eve, haven’t cried this much since you fell on your bike as kids. With Mark bandaging you up with stickers to try and cheer you up. It hurt, so much.

Each day passing by, you could feel him slipping. Slipping from your memories, from your routine, from your heart. He was outgrowing you in more ways than one. He’s more now, not just that awkward teenager you once knew, always holding your hand when going from place to place. Not that light hearted boy you knew and grew up with.

He’s more, and you’re just less.

“Im scared, Mark. Can you even hear me?” Your voice trembles. Gripping at the white blanket that covers his lower half. Too scared to actually touch him, too scared to even look at him.

He doesn’t reply, can’t. The constant sound of his heart monitor beeping and beeping further solidifies something you didn’t want to come to terms with. Something you didn’t want to face. So you pull away, wanting to be gone from the now suffocating room.

“I would have died without you.”

No one’s visited him today, thats what you thought at least. You were always the first one to come and visit him, and the first one to leave. Not wanting to take up too much time for the other people who’d visit, you were considerate like that.

But the room has voices inside, muffled. And that sentence, that one sentence. It was as clear as day. You couldn’t even make out the rest, but that one, that was the only thing that reached your ears.

You shouldn’t be eaves dropping, shouldn’t be sad, or angry. Shouldn’t feel entitled to Mark at all. But why did it hurt?

“I guess I’m doing this without you.”

You stopped talking or contacting with Mark all together. A month had passed-and nothing. Not a peep or even a word from Debbie. You were nothing to him now. Thats what it felt like.

But thats a selfish way of thinking. He had a life now, a half brother, a girlfriend even. He had responsibilities one person shouldn’t even be burdened with, and you’re here throwing a pity party for yourself.

You knew that, fuck you knew that. But you didn’t want to know it. Refused to acknowledge it. Knowing it now clearer than ever, was gut wrenching.

The old and worn photo album your mother had put together was nostalgic. You can recall certain moments when she’d stick these on, watching and recalling the events while she glues it on.

It spans to birthdays and events, to milestones and your many few ‘firsts’ in life.

Even that one time where you had boldly kissed his cheek for a photo, now it was forever captured on the book.

There’s a reason this was hidden away in the back of her closet, but it came beckoning to you like a voice.

Landing on a memorable photo, you trace the edges of the page. It was Halloween, dressed up as a typical sheet ghost with jagged holes for your eyes, and Mark as ‘duct-tape man.’ You smile. Fond of the memory of having to help with removing it in the bathtub, making sure he didn’t end up bald and ripping his skin off.

You shut the book. It smells like old memories and childhood.

“I guess I know what you’d do without me.”

a/n: haha jonathan I am questioning my mark

#mark grayson #invincible #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson invincible #mark grayson invincible x reader #News report!

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heathermason6060 · 10 months ago

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Serial Killer!Rick Grimes x f!Reader Smut: Trophies

Warnings/Mentions: Murder, use of alcohol, Rough sex, choking, slapping, biting, hair pulling, spitting, overstimulation, Rick is a sadist in bed and gift giving is his love language, but also just likes to see you wearing belongings of people he's killed

Summary: Rick gets tired of putting his kill trophies in a box, so he puts them on you instead. Then you fuck.

Notes: I finally got around to finishing this yippee! There's 2 smut scenes, first is kind of short and tame, and the one at the end is a few pages long and contains the more aggressive parts. Somewhat proofread!!

There were many routines in your life, and the lives of the people around you.

Rick was no exception.

Any time he'd leave the prison he'd go through the checklist in his mind; revolver, ammunition, his machete, water and a little bit of food.

And his cassette player, with that single tape.

Every note of the unnamed female's voice was engraved deep into his brain. He knew every hum and breath, every strum of her gentle fingers across her guitar.

It was just some tape he'd found. Didn't have a sentimental meaning to it from life before, wasn't some artist he was a fan of. He found it in that old rundown music store the two of you spent a night in back in Atlanta, and he took it.

You'd seen him with it plenty of times but you'd never actually seen him listen to it. You never gave it a second thought until you were on a run together, driving in silence down the long winding back roads.

You asked if he wanted to play his tape on the car stereo, and his friendly calm demeanor was instantly replaced with that look you'd only seen very few times.

“No.” The look on his face was enough to change your entire mood for the day.

His later attempts at cheering you up were only met with feigned smiles and laughter, something he was quick to pick up on.

“Why don't we go see that river you told me about, long time ago.” He looked over at you in the passenger seat, giving you that trademark Rick Grimes smile.

“Oh, if it's not out of the way, yeah.” You shrugged. It was clear you were still feeling unnerved by the ice thrown in your direction for seemingly no reason.

“If there's as many fish as you said there were, then it don't matter.”

“Okay, yeah, should be fun.”

Rick grinned when he could sense your attitude reaching a more positive level. “Alright. River first thing in the morning. Know of any place around here we can camp out for the night?”

“There's some old camping grounds a few miles up from the entrance point to the river. They used to set up tents near this fishing shed, tents are probably gone but the shed won't be. There's a few larger cabins up the same road but I have a feeling they're probably occupied. Was a real nice place.”

Rick nodded and continued driving.

He said, come wander, with me, love

Rick closed his eyes as he sat in the front room in the largest cabin. If his timing was right, they should be walking up the steps now.

Now at the door. Now opening the door. Now walking in. Now they saw him.

It was careless, what he was doing. Careless. You were asleep down the road in that little fishing shed, you could wake up at any minute and find the bedroll next to you cold and empty. Get worried, wait a few minutes, then get out your gun and come looking for him. It was stupid.

He just couldn't help himself. It'd been so long.

He opened his eyes.

One woman, three men. The first man was scrawny, easy. Rick could take him out with little to no effort. The woman was a bit chubby, but very short. She looked horrified already, she'd be easy too.

The other two men would be a bit of a challenge. Tall and well built.

Their mouths moved as they stared at the strange man sitting in their house. He could make out a few ‘what’s but that was about it.

He caught them off guard by walking right up to them.

First big man caught a knife to the head. The other pulled his gun and shot, barely missing Rick's shoulder.

Rick yanked the knife free and grabbed a wrist, pinning it against the front door, smashing over and over against the wood until his grip spasmed, and the gun fell with a clatter.

The woman was pulling at him like a sick dog. He reared back and elbowed her in the face, breaking her nose and knocking her unconscious. She fell to the floor with a thud, and the scrawny man dropped to check on her.

Rick turned back to the man he had pinned against the wall. He was angry, cursing, little white bubbles of foamy spit spraying from his lips. A trembling hand reached up, desperate to poke an eye or anything that could potentially stun Rick, only succeeding in ripping out the buds in the older man's ears.

He set his jaw as his heart began to race. Now it would get sloppy.

Rick reared back, and slammed his head forward so hard he felt the bridge of his nose instantly crack against his forehead. Blood spewed from his nose down his face, spraying Rick in the process.

The man reeled before collapsing. The hard part was over. The easier ones were more of a chore.

Rick stood back and admired his work.

The woman had a plastic bag over her head, but it was still obvious she'd been bludgeoned. Poor thing, didn't even wake up before she'd been so brutally slaughtered.

The scrawny man had his neck snapped. It was by complete accident, Rick didn't expect him to be so… fragile. He laid in the living room next to the woman and the first man he'd stabbed.

Rick looked down at the dog tags in his hand. They were fake, he could tell that much. Ordered at some flea market from cheap metal. The back had worn away to copper.

He balled up the rest of his rope and stuffed it in his duffle bag before finally leaving, the pleads and begging falling on deaf ears.

It took their people three days to find them.

“You, that's the man that killed Javier. I saw you leaving the same night we found him.”

That didn't alarm you. You knew Rick had killed people before. The words that followed soon after were a different story.

It was the third day of your scavenging run. The first day you spent on the road looking for a spot. The second day you spent on the river, mostly fishing and picking out places on a crinkled old map to go on the third day.

You'd just woken up, eyes still foggy with sleep as you walked out of the fishing shed to see Rick standing in front of a small group of people.

“Your man was a threat to my people.” Rick used the barrel of his revolver as he spoke like some sort of pointer rod, making the three strangers flinch each time it aimed at one of them.

“No. You tied him up like a skinned deer, was he still alive when you cut his stomach open?” Their leader's questioning was cut off with a quick gunshot to the head.

You gasped, not expecting that, and brought your hand to cover your mouth.

“No!” A blonde woman shrieked and fell to her knees beside her lover's limp body. She looked up to Rick then, venom in her spit as she spoke. “You're worse than the dead ones!”

Rick killed her just as well as the silent man behind her. Then it was just you and him, and now you were the mute.

You weren't thinking, really. Your eyes were still wide and burning from not blinking, staring into the pile of bodies that had been alive only seconds ago.

“Hey, you alright?” His voice was back to normal and you blinked, seeing he was now knelt beside you with that familiar look of compassion. That was the Rick you knew, not that cold thing that used his body only minutes before.

“Yeah, just, I wasn't expecting that.” You breathed. Your lips and fingers felt numb, despite it being a warm October day.

Rick nodded, looking down at the dirt between his feet. He chewed on the inside of his cheek before speaking.

“I keep forgetting you're not as… seasoned as the rest of us.”

No. That wasn't it.

You were no stranger to killing, but the people you killed were in self defense.

What Rick just did was cold blooded murder. And the way he made it seem like the most normal thing a man could do had your chest feeling tight.

“I'm hungry.” It was all you could think to say.

He snorted at that, taken aback by your words. “Hungry? Okay. You okay staying here for a few? I can go search that old country store down the road.”

You nodded, glancing at the bodies only a few feet away. He followed your gaze and squeezed your knee to redirect your attention back to him.

“Keep your radio on. I'll just be a little while, okay?” He smiled when you nodded. “Don't use your gun unless you have to.”

You were thankful he drug the bodies away before he left.

Come wander with me.

Rick took a deep breath.

It had been two weeks, his self control was slowly slipping. He'd gone a year without killing once, when Carl was born. At the time it was easy.

The old brown house, threatening to crumble at any moment from the massive amounts of dry rot and termites, was a perfect place to look for people out on their own. They loved staying in the inconspicuous hole in the walls, places that you would never notice unless you were desperate and terrified.

He moved out of the shadows and dug his knife into the base of a skull. They died in his arms and he held them there, closing his eyes as the struggles grew weaker and weaker, until they finally stopped all at once.

He opened his heavy lids to see a woman screaming, her hands covering her mouth from the opposite side of the small living room. The buds in his ears prevented him from hearing most of it.

Rick let the lifeless body slide from his arms, and stood. He was quick as he walked towards her, grabbing her by her hair and letting out a disappointed ‘tsk’ at her state of shock. She could have easily escaped but she chose to stay there and wail.

He came from the sunset, he came from the sea.

Rick held her against his chest as she squirmed in his arms, pounding her fists against his chest, her movements futile, weak from starvation and dehydration. He closed his eyes again as he held her there, dragging his knife up the base of her spine. He could hear her screams now, they'd transformed from anger to terror, dry screeches as she pleaded for her life.

Rick found his thoughts drifting to you, and now it was your voice humming in his ears, replacing the unknown feminine voice he'd grown so accustomed to.

You truly were a sight to behold. Even if it was just in his mind.

A sharp kick to his knee snapped the image of you out of his mind, and sent him into a state of anger. He opened his eyes and gritted his teeth before yanking her head to the side, looking down at her soft tanned skin.

A mother Mary coin sat at the base of her throat, dangling on a thin chain, only for a second before Rick gently took it off.

She jerked against him as she realized she was bleeding, streams of warm blood gushing down her neck and chest.

Her already weak movements became weaker as she bled out, only managing to give a last ditch attempt of escape when his knife was removed from her throat. Her jerking against him stilled, and he pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes glued to hers as he watched her blue eyes turn glossy.

Rick took the earbuds from his ears and put them in the back pocket of his jeans, along with the necklace.

He wouldn't need to put his trophies in a box anymore.

You smiled in surprise as you looked at the jewelry in your open palm.

“Do I seem the religious type?” You mused, running your finger over the gold oval. Mother Mary. You didn't expect Rick to think of you when seeing something like that.

“No.” He hummed, a soft smile on his lips. He looked so sweet then, the orange reflections of the campfire dancing across his face.

You wanted to question him, ask him where he found it and why he decided you were fit to wear it, but your lips closed when he moved to put it around your neck.

He was gentle, gentle as he moved your hair over your shoulder, and gentle as he closed the clasp and brushed your hair back in its original position.

“Thanks Rick. It's really pretty.” Your fingers stroked the charm at your neck, the metal warm from being in his back pocket. You decided then you didn't care to know about the where or the why, the hows or why there was dried blood on the back of it.

“Dinners ready. Go get Daryl and come eat.” He brushed your hair behind your ear and smiled. He was looking at you, but not really looking at you.

“Okay.”

You managed to drag Daryl down from the watchtower for dinner without much complaining. But to your confusion, the group only stayed around the table for about ten minutes to chat, eat their roasted trout and canned asparagus, and then they left. Not one at a time either.

When you finished the last few bites of your dinner, Rick took you into the warden's office, a nice secluded space with comfortable chairs and a pretty brown desk table.

You looked up from the table to see Rick walking back with a bottle of wine in hand, a sly smile on his face.

You raised a brow and smirked as he poured it into two plastic cups, setting yours in front of you before sitting down.

“This what I think it is?” You teased, taking a sip of wine to cool your nerves. You were anxious as hell, although your calm and amused exterior didn't show it.

Was Rick Grimes, leader of your group, seriously flirting with you? Beyond the usual innocent playfulness?

“Depends on what you think it is. Date? Yes. Work conference? No.” He took a sip.

“So, you just tell them all to stay away from here? They know?” You suddenly blushed at the idea of the group knowing Rick was sweet on you. It felt like dating the cool kid in school all over again.

“Well, not exactly that, but yeah, they know.” He looked at you then in a way that made you nervous. It was the way he used to look at Lori. All soft eyed and smiles.

You barely knew him, like really knew him, you hung around Carol, Carl and Glenn more than anyone else, it just felt too out of place for you to hang out with Rick or Daryl. That role was better suited for Maggie or Michonne.

When he had asked you to go out on that run a few days ago with him, just him, you were stunned. And now here he was, serving you dinner and fancy wine like you were his wife.

“Why? I mean, why me?”

He furrowed his brows and looked at you thoughtfully, as if he didn't quite know the answer himself. He took another sip of wine before answering.

“I don't know why. I just know I like you.”

You grinned a bit at that. “You like me, huh? It's cause of my Kardashian looks isn't it?”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “Kardashian looks huh? Yeah, sure.”

The tension from your end quickly faded the more you talked.

You couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of guilt the more Rick flirted with you. Lori had died not too long ago, and even though he seemed completely fine, you worried it was him finding unhealthy ways to cope.

You didn't know he already had a lifelong coping mechanism, and you were another thing entirely.

Murder was always common in the apocalypse. You'd seen more victims of humans than you could count.

Moving into Alexandria though, it seemed like almost every time you went outside the walls you'd find a new dead body a few miles away, obviously done by a human and not the dead.

“Jesus.” Daryl muttered, using a stick to move a dead man's head to the side, showcasing the dramatic knife wound to his cheek.

“They're getting closer to home.” You muttered, looking down at the body near your feet as Daryl poked at it.

“Yeah.” He agreed. He dropped his stick and stood up, shaking his head. “Sorry sonvabitch that did this better hope he don't come any closer.”

That night Rick gave you another piece of jewelry. A silver thumb ring, long but not visually remarkable.

“This is actually really pretty.” You said as you slipped it on your thumb, opposite hand of the other ring Rick gave you in the past.

“Yeah?” Rick grinned, looking over his shoulder as he took the dishes from dinner to his sink.

He'd invited you over for dinner. You appreciated it, it had been a while since you had time alone with the man. You'd begun to miss him and his daring flirtation.

“Yeah, don't need to worry about it snagging on anything either. Can wear it when I go out.” Your fingers continued fidgeting with the ring, spinning it around your thumb as you watched him clean up.

He dried his hands and walked over to you, offering out a hand, an act that made your stomach do flips. “I'm glad you like it.”

You took his hand, warm, his fingers so large and thick they made yours look like they belonged to a pianist in comparison.

He led you from your seat at the dining room table to his living room, leaving you on the couch while he went to dig through a basket.

You watched him from your spot on the couch as he put a DVD in the player under the living room tv. You wondered then, would they be gone all night? Carl, Michonne, Daryl? Did he tell them to find somewhere else to sleep for the night?

You blushed wildly at the idea of everyone in Alexandria knowing Rick was trying to have sex with you.

“How long will they be gone?” You blurted.

Rick turned to you after turning on the TV, a brow raised. “Couple hours. Why?”

“Well, if it's gonna be a sleepover I gotta get my stuff.” You laughed nervously, cursing yourself for sounding so awkward and timid.

“I didn't plan on it, but,” he groaned dramatically as he plopped down onto the cushy couch next to you, “-the idea is tempting.”

You realized you were wrong in your assumption that he was trying to get laid. Fuck. That was embarrassing.

He seemed open to it though, right? Or were you just so touch deprived that you were fooling yourself into reading him the wrong way?

You watched the first Twilight movie and laughed most of the time, but you caught Rick watching intently at the baseball scene.

“I'm so pissed the outbreak had to happen when it did. We were two months away from the sequel. Two months! That means they finished it and it's on some hard drive somewhere, never to be seen.”

Rick smiled at your complaining, that same look of strange admiration on your face.

You still didn't know how to react to it, on one hand, it was extremely flattering and you were starting to get turned on, but on the second hand it rationally was a little off-putting. Maybe he really did just have a thing for you, maybe it was just as simple as that.

His gaze should've made you blush and swoon, and it definitely did, but… there was something about it that set your teeth on edge. Far too intimidating.

“Maybe we'll find it one day.”

“That would be the day we have a real slumber party. Popcorn, sodas, everything.”

“Yeah? Gonna braid each other's hair too?” He teased.

You scoffed and playfully punched his shoulder. The man didn't even budge, like he was made of stone. “Can you braid?”

“Damn good at it.”

You gaped at him in amused disbelief. “No shot!”

“C'mere.” Rick's knees spread and he tapped his shoe on the floor between his feet.

You gulped some wine before quickly shrugging, and got on the floor, your feet tucked neatly under your butt.

His hands felt illegally good. He brushed your hair over your shoulders and ran his fingers through it, from your roots down to the ends. Each time his fingertips ran down your scalp you were given a fresh wave of goosebumps, and when they brushed against the back of your neck you visibly shivered.

Rick wasn't lying. He managed to give you a beautiful braid, working with what was given to make something you'd be happy to wear on a fancy date. You ran your fingers over the braid and scoffed in shock.

“It's so pretty.” You admired the way the necklace he had given you back at the prison was on full view, no longer hidden or covered by your hair. It sat right at your collarbone, and the neckline of your black and red dress framed it perfectly.

When Rick said ‘wear something nice’ for dinner you immediately panicked and went to Rosita. She picked out a beautiful dress for you, it was classy but not over the top, pretty to look at but also comfortable to lay around in.

You looked at him in the mirror in front of you. He was looking at you again, but different this time.

Less wholesome admiration, more… desire. He had little readable expression but the bit you could read had your lower stomach flipping with excitement.

You turned to face him and took a second to appreciate the way the black button up shirt hugged his muscles just so slightly. It wasn't the cover of some smutty werewolf or vampire novel, but fuck, it had your knees feeling weak.

“Told you.”

It took you a moment to process what he meant, but when you did, you smiled and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you did. Where'd you learn to braid like this?”

“Same place they taught me how to pick up women.” He winked. You both laughed.

You ended up back on the couch with a different movie put in. Neither of you were paying any attention to it though, your focus slowly shifting to each other.

“Think they'll be back soon?” You had the courage to flirt all of a sudden.

Maybe it was the wine that had loosened you up, or maybe it was the fact he looked so hot in that shirt and smelled like sandalwood and jasmine.

“Hm, maybe.” He flirted back, an edge of tauntful tease to his voice. “Why?”

“Well, usually after a date goes this well…” You trailed off and wiggled your eyebrows. Your boldness surprised the both of you, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

“Yeah? What's that?” He hummed, his smile slowly fading when he looked from your eyes to your lips.

“Girl shows the guy a good time.”

“That right?” He leaned in, and you could smell his cologne stronger than before. You closed your eyes and bit back a sigh.

“Maybe, I don't know. Never been on a date this good.” You leaned in, mirroring his movements, looking down to his lips.

“How about the guy shows the girl a good time, huh? How about that?” His voice was breathy then, warm and smelling like expensive wine.

You nodded and he smiled, breaking past the last few inches to kiss you.

He was so soft. His hands cupped your cheeks with a featherlight caress, and his lips were equally as gentle. He moved them against yours, his tongue slipping out to trace along your wine stained lips. You parted your lips and moaned at the feeling of his tongue in your mouth.

Rick guided you on your back, just as gentle as every man you'd seen on all those romance movies you pretended to cringe at. His hand under the small of your back had a wave of wetness seeping out of you, you had underestimated how truly touch starved you were.

It wasn't long before he had led you up to his bedroom. You were astonished at how neat everything was. Bed was made, sheets looked fresh out of the wash.

He had his revolver laid out on his dresser along with a few other melee weapons, his machete, axe, and a long dagger. Everything was perfectly organized.

And there, in the duffel bag peeking out from under his bed, sat his cassette player.

Once the door was closed behind him he wasted no time in undressing you, popping open the buttons on the back of your dress. He moved slow and meticulously, brushing the sleeves off your shoulders to plant a few kisses on the warm skin there.

You sighed at his touch and pressed your back against his chest, aching to feel him envelop you in his warmth.

He took his hands away from your sides to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt but you turned and placed your hand on top of his. He looked at you curiously and you returned a sheepish smile.

“You look really good in these clothes.”

He grinned when he realized your intentions and he left his shirt buttoned, save for the three at the top.

Rick looked unbelievably sexy then, a few golden curls of chest hair visible from the slit in his shirt, his hair slightly ruffled from your hands, and a face so blown with lust that you could touch yourself to it for more than one orgasm.

Then he had you on his bed sprawled out for him, your arms lying above your head as you watched him unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants. When he pulled the zipper down, and pulled his cock out, you literally whimpered at the sight. It was beautiful, like the picture perfect example of a male penis. Perfect girth, perfect length, even the mess of brown and blonde pubes were stunning.

You could go on forever about Rick Grimes’ dick.

He gave a smug smirk as he moved to take his place over you, pulling down your dress the rest of the way and immediately planting his smug little face between your legs.

You gasped and threw your head back against the mattress. He nuzzled your clothed clit with his nose, inhaling your scent and sneakily stroking his dick with his right hand. With the other he held onto your left thigh, fingers digging into the skin there.

He took his time working you up, licking and sucking and even once nipping your clit through the fabric of your panties.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he pulled his head away and went to take your panties off.

He stopped your hand and you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“These look really good on you.” He smirked.

Your head fell back into the mattress when he pulled your panties to the side. Thank GOD you took the cute panties Rosita offered you. If you were wearing one of your practical sets of underwear you would've died from embarrassment.

He rubbed his finger through your folds, gathering your slick to rub across your clit. You let out a pathetic whine and grabbed fistfuls of cotton sheets beside your head.

He took his time. He slipped in his middle finger up to the knuckle, curling it painfully slowly. Bless Lori, or whoever the fuck taught him that. You were definitely coming tonight.

“Rick, ah, mmm, god.” A hot puff of air from your lips blew a stray lock of hair from your face, a result from your braid having become messy.

He tsked once and drew his finger back, wiping the wetness off on the head of his cock.

You were basically on the edge of your seat at this point, leaning up on your elbows to watch every move he made.

He ran his hands over your torso, ignoring your breasts which made you whine in disappointment.

His eyes flicked up to you, and you were filled with an unexplainable sense of anxiety. Like there was something in you, dating way back to when you needed instincts to survive. Your instincts were telling you that you needed to leave, now. You were in danger.

Every hair on your arms, thighs, the back of your neck, they all prickled. Your upper lip twitched, as if it wanted to pull back and show him your teeth.

“You just tell me to stop, and I will, okay?” His voice was low.

Your blood ran cold.

“What?” You whispered, your bottom lip trembled, and you found breathing became a difficult task.

He repeated himself, his voice still just as low, that same dangerous look on his face. He moved quickly.

He was inside you before you had time to adjust, his hand covering your mouth to muffle the pained noises you made. He groaned into your neck and buried himself deeper inside you, his dick twitching as your walls spasmed around him. He pulled out slowly, savoring the tight drag of your hot cunt, before plunging back in.

Rick was rough, rougher than you could have ever predicted. It was so strange, earlier he was so soft and gentle. He fucked you hard and rough like that for a few long minutes before flipping you over on your stomach.

His hands were on your hips. His fingers digging painfully into your soft skin. He used his upper body weight to render your lower half helpless beneath his open palms.

He groaned as he watched his dick disappear back into you, his eyebrows knitted tightly together and his mouth hanging open.

“Je-jesus christ.” Your moan was strangled in your throat as his hands closed around your neck.

You didn't have time to take a preparation breath, he squeezed quick and hard, immediately cutting off all blood and air flow to your brain. You tried to pry his fingers away and off of you but he didn't relent, only squeezing harder.

Your vision blurred and your head swam with thick panic, you dug your fingernails into the back of his hand until his grip loosened.

The lungful of air you sucked in felt fresher than any breath you'd ever taken. You didn't have long before his fist was in your hair, yanking your head to the side to stuff your discarded panties into your mouth.

You whimpered in protest but he just shoved your face into his pillows and plowed deeper into you.

It wasn’t quick at all, quite the opposite.

He fucked you like that for what felt like hours. It was realistically maybe twenty minutes, but that was still a long time to get fucked.

Your body trembled underneath him from the exhaustion of back to back orgasms. He had already came inside you once, and you felt a small sense of relief, but he didn't stop. He didn't even slow down. He just moaned into your neck and continued battering your insides.

You were spent. Every part of your body ached, your pussy felt raw and your clit throbbed painfully. Your stomach and chest chafed against his comforter, and right before it got too much he flipped you over.

Rick looked down at you like you were a painting he finally finished after months of perfecting.

He slid his warm rough hands over your chest, pinching your sore nipples, squeezing your red breasts.

His eyes found your necklace and he rolled his hips, earning a muffled whine in response. Then they found the ring on your middle finger, and rolled into you again. The thumb ring on your other hand. Your body shivered when he slammed his pelvis forward.

You couldn’t respond in any way, you pulled your panties from your dry mouth and panted, wiping the sweat from your forehead.

He changed completely after he finished. He peppered kisses all over you, sweet and soft against your cheeks, down your neck and chest, tender and soft on your nipples.

He took care of you after, he cleaned you with a cool rag and brought you one of his white t shirts to change into. He silently asked you to stay the night with more gentle kisses after you attempted to leave.

You shouldn't have been snooping, you knew it was wrong.

The song felt chilling after what you’d witnessed throughout your time in knowing him, and the night you'd shared.

You sat at the foot of his bed and listened, unaware of the way your fingers had begun to twitch around the tape player.

Something about it felt wrong, like you were listening to Gloomy Sunday after hearing the legend surrounding it as a child again. Your heart raced as the song finished and you put the cassette player back where you found it, in his duffle bag at the foot of his bed.

You made it down the stairs before you rounded the corner and smacked right into a large chest.

“Jesus woman.”

You let out a breath when you saw it was Daryl. Covered in dirt and smelling like cigarettes and gasoline, a familiar sight that sets you at ease.

“Shit, sorry.”

He'd been slightly annoyed at the way you startled him, but something had caught his eye and his irritation faded.

“Y'alright?” He grunted, looking at you with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I'm okay.” You nodded. He eyed you suspiciously before leaving without a goodbye, heading up the stairs to Rick's room.

“He's not here.”

He stopped in his tracks and turned to look down at you. “Where's he at then?”

“I don't know.”

You found out the reason for his staring when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the bathroom mirror. You'd need to wear turtlenecks for the next few days.

Rick was thrown off his game without his music. He was more aggressive, sloppy, and hateful in the way he killed.

“Please!” His voice sounded pathetic. It made Rick curl his top lip in disgust as he watched him squirm against his restraints, the bodies of his loved ones littering the ground next to him.

“Don't leave me here.” He begged as the chill of night crept through the thick trees they found themselves in. It carried the smell of rain, rotten leaves and cigarette butts.

“Give me one good reason.” Rick held his bloodied machete as he observed the man.

Young, maybe early twenties. Black hair, a black ‘beard’, which was too patchy to really qualify as one, and an orange sweater. The sweater had been mostly stained a reddish brown from his blood, and the blood of his friends, which all had the mercy of a better fate than what awaited him.

His body sagged as he twisted against the pine, his wrists burning and bruising from the frayed rope.

“I'm a good man. Never done anything wrong. Never killed, never raped anyone-”

“Aw, well, ain't that nice of you?” Rick sneered, slipping the machete in the back of his belt. “How gracious.”

“I got a dog, man, please.”

Rick chewed on the inside of his cheek before taking his machete back out again.

The man erupted into more begging and crying as Rick approached him. He let out a short lived scream before looking down to see his hands were now freed and in front of him.

“Wh-”

“Ten seconds.” Rick's revolver felt firm in his grip. “Ten,”

The man stood stunned for a moment, holding his aching wrists, his eyes darting from Rick to the bodies at their feet.

“Nine.” Rick's voice was louder then, like a father giving his child one last warning to start acting straight.

“Eight!”

The man took off through the woods, and there was no reason to count any longer.

You ran your fingers over the cold metal in your hands. It was stunning, something you never would've dreamed of holding before the outbreak. A gold chain, thin but strong. Not dainty enough that it could be broken off with a snag.

Small red beads dangled from the chain, twelve rubies spread out along the length. They looked like little drops of wine.

“Where did you get this?”

It was the first time you'd asked him a question before thanking him for his gifts.

He silently took the bracelet from your hands and clasped it around your wrist, his fingertips ghosting over the veins of your arms.

“In a jewelry box. That neighborhood I stopped at last week.”

You watched his fingers part from your wrist and the dangling rubies sway. You knew it was a lie.

“You ever get stuff like this for anyone else?”

He chuckled and leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving your form. “No.”

You looked over your shoulder at him and sighed, unable to keep the smirk from spreading on your face when you saw the way he was looking at you. “You know, I really like sweets too.”

He raised a brow and broke into a grin. “Sweets, of course,right. What, chocolates? Candy?”

“Mhmm. Dark chocolate with sea salt. Or, chocolate with raspberries.” Your mouth watered as you recalled the old luxuries you'd once taken for granted.

“Alright. Noted.”

Being alone with Rick in his house was something that should've scared you. Especially considering what you'd seen in the past, and the darker side of him in bed.

But looking at him in his form fitting white tee-shirt, the fireplace covering him in a warm orange glow, your degenerate lust filled brain made none of that matter.

“C'mere.” His hand beckoned you to him from its spot on the back of the couch.

You hesitated for appearances, not wanting to come off too eager, before eventually giving in and leaning back.

His arm slipped from the couch above you and wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace.

You rested your cheek on his chest and inhaled the smell of his cologne. It was deep and dark, you recognized it as his bottle of “Leather and Embers”, whatever the hell that meant. As you savored the smell he pressed his face into your scalp and soaked in your smells, rose and eucalyptus shampoo, wisteria lotion. It was so light and feminine and so utterly you that just the smell made his dick twitch in his jeans.

“Gonna go on a supply run with a few others tomorrow. Need some ammo. You wanna join me?”

“Depends.” You pretended to think about it for a second, a playful smirk on your lips. “Who’s all going?”

Rick hummed and squinted, playing along with your thoughtful act. “Me, Carol, Aaron, Glenn, Maggie. Daryl might come, hasn’t decided yet.” You snorted at the idea of Daryl ever turning down work.

“All of us gonna fit in that itty-bitty car?”

“Taking separate cars. Cover more area that way.” His hand gave your shoulder a slight squeeze and you looked up to see him leaning in for a kiss. You met him halfway and smiled against his lips as his other arm wrapped around you.

You grinned, full of pride, as you walked through the gap between two small houses to find Rick, holding two ammunition boxes. One was half full of buckshot shells, the other completely full of 9mm ammo.

He started searching the first house on the block, so he should be at the third right about-

You froze in the doorway as you took in the scene in front of you.

You could see the back of Rick standing in the center of the dining room, the bodies of one man and two women laid across the long table in front of him.

He was taking earbuds out from his ears and putting them into his back pocket, his hands so covered in blood that his fingers seemed to melt together.

You must've made a noise because he turned around.

What was once a look of serenity instantly turned like the tides of an ocean. His eyes no longer resembled a warm blue sky, instead a clash of dark and stormy gray.

His lips moved in the form of your name, but you didn't react.

You looked from body to body, taking in the gruesome ways they'd been killed. One woman had her throat slit with so much force that you could see bone.

Another had countless stab wounds in her chest and a few on her neck. It looked angry, and much more violent than anything you'd ever been unfortunate enough to see.

The man had been gutted, his organs sloshing out of him to lay between his body and what you assumed to be the body of his wife.

Your body didn't react when his hands grabbed your shoulders. You didn't even notice that he'd approached you, his hands raised, his knees slightly bent to make himself appear smaller, less of a threat.

When he turned you around to lead you out of the house you caught a glimpse of three chocolate bars in a plastic bag sitting at the front door.

“I need you to look at me.”

You blinked and took in your new surroundings. You were sitting on the hood of your car, his bloodied hands on your knees. The contrast of deep red against your skin had a groan catching in your throat.

Rick's voice snapped your name and you looked to his face. He looked prepared, as if he'd imagined this scenario countless times before.

“What you just saw-”

“I know.”

“No, you don't. I had to, I-”

“Rick.” The coldness of your voice had him forgetting the way he'd been frustrated at you for interrupting him again. “You don't lie to me. Not me.”

His face softened, but he felt an uncomfortable tightening in his throat and chest. He nodded, his eyes falling away from yours to look at your knees.

When he saw the blood he drew his hands away as if he'd been stung.

“You killed them and you liked it.”

As quick as a snake his hand shot out and grabbed the base of your throat. His eyes were back on yours now, freezing you with a cold stare. “It’d be in your best interest to forget what you saw here.”

Your body didn't react the way either of you expected it to. You grabbed at his wrist and let out a whimper, your thighs clenching together so hard they trembled.

His grip loosened as he saw your form tremble under him, not from fear, but arousal. He furrowed his brows and looked back to your eyes, studying each and every flicker in them.

It was an unsteady standoff, neither of you knowing which move to make next. He experimented and tightened his hand again, earning another whimper from your lips.

He took it a step further and with his other bloodied hand, he slipped his fingers between your knees, gently spreading them apart.

With your thighs spread he filled the gap with his waist. He hooked two fingers in the belt loops of your shorts and tugged you down the hood closer to him, your pelvis bumping against the semi he had growing in his jeans.

Rick groaned at the contact and leaned in to plant his face in the crook of your neck, his hand departing from your throat to trail down your chest. He toyed with the gold coin of your necklace, rubbing his fingertips over the warm metal.

“Rick-”

“No, shh-shh-shh, you were being so good.” He groaned, his jeans rubbing your thighs as he softly pushed against you.

“I just, a shower, let's wait-”

He growled in your ear and squeezed your thighs so tightly you let out a yelp. “No, think I'll have you right here.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine and before you could react, he pushed you flat on your back.

You were finally there, your muscles relaxing and your eyes closing, ready to surrender to Rick and let him have his way. But as always, something had to go wrong.

The gurgling sound of a walker snapped you from your daze.

Rick pulled away from you and used the machete from his belt to take out the first two.

“Rick!” You called in a nervous voice, your eyes locked on the group of walkers behind the car.

“Shit. Alright, get in.” He cursed and opened the passenger door for you. You slid into the seat, pulling your knees back just in time to avoid the heavy metal door being slammed after you.

Your eyes followed Rick round the front of the car. Then, as if he was playing some weird joke, he took his hand back from the door handle and ran back into the house.

“Fuck.” You whispered, watching three walkers follow him to the door. You had your hand on the car door handle, ready to jump out after him and help, but before you could dig out your knife he reappeared in the doorway.

You shook your head when he finally sat down beside you and started the car.

He plopped the bag in your lap and you stared down at it.

The three chocolate bars.

“I know you said dark chocolate, salt and raspberries n’whatnot. But this is all I could find.” He said it like he was apologizing, like he was dissatisfied with his findings.

“Rick, I haven't had chocolate in so long that it could be some nasty rainbow white chocolate with sprinkles and I'd love it. Fuck.” You unwrapped the first bar and snapped off a small square.

As soon as it hit your tongue you moaned, completely forgetting the scene from earlier. It was your favorite type, something you hadn't had in God knows how long.

Rick smiled fondly as you swirled the chocolate around your tongue, looking at you the same way he'd looked at you at dinner, the same way he used to look at Lori.

You were blissfully unaware, your eyes closed as you savored the flavor.

He bit his bottom lip and looked back to the road ahead, slowing down as he passed the road that the others had gone down.

He raised a hand out the open window to Glenn, who'd returned a thumbs up, going inside to gather the others to head back home.

“Want a bite?”

You smiled sweetly as he looked back to you and the open Butterfinger that was in your left hand, your favorite chocolate in your right.

“Indulging ourselves, are we?” He smirked playfully as he took the Butterfinger from you and took a heaping bite. It was so big he'd taken half the bar and you scoffed, smacking his shoulder.

“Geeze! Talk about being indulgent!” You teased and snatched the chocolate back, finishing it off with three more bites.

You ate your sweets in silence, and soon it had turned from a comfortable silence to a thick cloud of tension when you pulled up to the gates of Alexandria.

He called your name and you forced yourself to look at him.

Rick's expression was hard to gauge.

It almost seemed like a mask, now that you'd seen what he was capable of doing, it felt like you were sitting beside a stranger. Your heart sped up, you were suddenly scared of saying or doing the wrong thing, sending him into aggression or something worse.

“Yeah?” Your voice sounded foreign to you. Almost as foreign as the way Rick was looking at you.

He waited a few painfully long moments before the essence of a smirk formed on his lips that were still speckled with blood. “I'm making dinner tonight. You should come.”

You blew out a lungful of air and nodded. “Okay, yeah, I will.”

“Wear somethin’ nice.” His voice was barely a whisper. You didn't have time to ask him to clarify before the gates opened and he drove you in.

You felt a bit ridiculous in your dark blue dress. It was extremely snug, almost uncomfortable, ending right at your knees, drawing attention to the curve and dip of your hips and waist. There was no one else for dinner, thank god, because you felt seconds away from a panic attack.

Fettuccine noodles with Carol's homemade alfredo sauce. Despite your painful anxiety you wolfed the creamy noodles down, along with a heaping glass of dark red wine.

It was painfully tense. You found yourself wondering how the car ride home had been completely fine, it hadn't been awkward at all, not until you pulled up to the gates. It might have been the adrenaline and shock.

Now it had worn off and you were finishing your second glass of wine, praying for the buzz to kick in so you wouldn’t feel like you were on the verge of an anxiety attack anymore.

“Can we talk?” His voice made you jump. You looked up from your empty plate to his face, which had been thoroughly cleaned of the blood from earlier.

You didn't respond verbally. You gave a small nod and he inhaled deeply, his eyes falling from your face to the table.

After a moment he looked back up to you.

“I need to know you won't… you won't tell anyone. Things are still pretty tense here, these people already see me as someone to watch out for. I don't need them fearing me.”

“Fear could be a good thing.” You don't know why you said it.

He managed a slight smile, clasping his hands together in front of his chin. “Yeah. It can be. But not this type of fear.”

“So what are you? Jack the ripper of the apocalypse?”

Rick cleared his throat and sat back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest, his fingers tapping on his biceps, covered in a thick black sweater.

“Alright. Nevermind.” You sighed. You finished off your wine and scratched your chin absentmindedly, still looking at his face. “How long have you been doing this?”

“Long time.”

You managed to hide your shock, and nodded. “Before the outbreak?”

He nodded, his eyes not leaving the silverware crossed over his empty plate.

He didn't look guilty or ashamed like one logically should be. A bit uncomfortable, uncertain, a hint of worry and dread. You knew he was praying this conversation would go well and he wouldn't have to do anything devastating to secure keeping his position in the group as the fearless, honorable leader.

“Did Lori know?”

Now he looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. “No.” Of course she wouldn't have, what a stupid question.

“Okay.” It was quiet until you finally gained the courage to address the elephant in the room. “Rick, are any of us in danger?”

Your question caused a drastic change in his demeanor. He leaned forward with an expression that was a mix of hurt and assurance, and you already knew the answer.

“No, of course not.” He breathed, his hands tentatively crossing the table. “I would never hurt any of you people. You're my family. All of you. Even those,” he waved a hand over his shoulder, “stuck up pricks Deanna led.”

You wanted to believe him. You had no choice, honestly, you had no other option. You knew Rick was a good leader, even if he made rash and emotional decisions. He always listened to the opinions and advice of others, he always took their says into account. If he hadn't done it this far, there was no reason to believe he'd start doing it now that you knew.

You weren't justifying it by any means. What he did was vile, monstrous, egregious. Nothing would ever change that. It just wasn't the old world anymore, you had bigger problems to worry about, as ironic as it sounded.

“Okay.”

You closed your eyes as he rounded the table and put his hands on your shoulders. You wished you could just turn your brain off, wipe your memory and forget, and your stomach churned with nausea. Not at the memory or knowledge of his little weekend hobby, but at the realization that it didn't bother you as much as it should've.

“Can I make it up to you?” His breath warmed your ear as his palms slid up and down your biceps.

God, you were sick. You were disgusting.

“Yeah.”

Carl was home, and so were Carol, Michonne and Daryl, so you led him back to your house across the street.

Your house was almost an exact mirror image of his, same porch, same paint, same layout and everything. In fact, your bedroom window was a straight shot across from his.

You shivered, remembering the times you'd play with him through your window, randomly flipping him off or giving him a thumbs down for no reason at all. It was so innocent.

A tingle spread through your core knowing the man who'd make silly gestures and faces at you through his window at night just to see you laugh was the same man who had gutted humans for kicks.

You stood in your room, looking at his black window across the street as his hands worked to free you from your tight dress. He chuckled at the sight of your ass stuffed in the fabric, running his hands down your waist to grab the bottom of your dress and pull up.

“Where'd you get this thing?” He mused, attempting to fix your hair from the battle of pulling it over your head.

“Tara. She found it on a run, said the color suited me.” You snorted.

His arms wrapped around your now bare body, hands cupping the soft flesh of your breasts and kneading.

“Hmm.” His face nuzzled in the back of your hair, inhaling your clean scent and enjoying the way it felt against his skin. You were just his polar opposite, so soft, sweet, where he was hard and rugged. So kind, patient, his pretty feminine contrast.

You were trying so hard to hold it together and not beg him to fuck you the same way he'd fucked you the other night. You craved it.

Ever since he had you that night you craved it. Craved the raw pain and utter helplessness. You craved more.

“Rick.” You whispered, placing your hands over his, their position still tender and gentle over your chest.

“Hmm?” The sudden feeling of his knee between your thighs made you moan. He pressed it up higher, pushing firm against your panties, the soft gray pair that was far too tiny to wear in any other scenario.

He grinned against the back of your neck at the realization, you'd put these on just for him.

“Speak, sweetheart.” He breathed, parting your hair to kiss your neck.

Rick was doing a good job of making it hard to remember what you were planning on saying in the first place. He kissed down your neck, his hands sliding down your torso to rest on your hips to guide you forward towards your bed.

“Got you something.” He muttered into your neck before he pulled back to push you on the bed.

He dipped his fingers into the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a folded napkin. He glanced up at you, his eyes almost looking hesitant.

You swallowed hard and watched him unfold the napkin, his movements slow, until he knelt on the floor in front of you and showed you his gift.

“Oh.” You couldn't think of what to say. Earrings, small orbs that were a deep red color. On either side of the orb sat two diamonds, much smaller than the rubies.

“You like ‘em?” He urged, looking up at you, eager, desperate for your approval. Like his life depended on you putting them on.

“Of course I do.” You nodded, and took them from the napkin in his open hands.

His lips bloomed into a smile as you put them on. His eyes followed each move you made.

The second you put the last one on he was on you, his lips on yours, a hand on your throat giving a gentle squeeze that sent excitement fluttering in your stomach.

You groaned, tilting your head back to give him better access. Wordlessly begging him to squeeze harder.

He didn't get the hint, only dipping his head down to kiss the bottom of your chin.

“Rick.” You drawled, your head dizzy and light from his touches and kisses.

“Hmm.”

“You know how,” you sucked in a sharp breath as he nipped the skin below your ear, immediately going to kiss the reddening spot in an apology. “The other night you- you were rough?”

He pulled back, his hand relaxing around your throat, his fingers unfolding to simply press against the side of your neck.

There was a look of sympathy, regret maybe. He nodded, his eyes soft and locked on yours. “I shouldn't have, I'm sorry. You're just…” he sighed, the sound coming out with a shudder. “Was it too much?”

“No.” You immediately answered, shaking your head. “I liked it.” Your words had an obvious affect on him. The sympathy was gone, completely replaced with building excitement.

“I want that again.”

He closed his eyes. His fingers twitched against the side of your neck before slowly bending back into a firm grip around your throat.

“Don't, don't hold back this time, please.”

When his eyes opened you got that same shock of fear you felt the first time, but unlike the first time there was no uncertainty.

You whimpered when you felt his hold on your neck loosen. “I can take it.”

He took his bottom lip between his teeth, his jaw flexing as he bit down. Putting on a good show, pretending he had to think about it. Pretending he was cautious. He knew what he would look like if he dove right in without hesitation. He'd look like the selfish, self indulgent man he truly was when it came to sex.

He raised his eyes to yours, his lips splitting into a grin. You mirrored his expression, your heart hammering against your chest, grinning as he slid on top of you and onto the bed.

“Tell me to stop an’ I will.” He reminded.

“Not gonna happen.”

He chuckled, low and deep in his chest. His lips found their place back on your neck, and his hips between your thighs.

You groaned the second you felt his dick through his jeans pressed up against you. The sensation was rough, almost painful the way he ground against your thin panties.

The feeling of your nipples being pinched had you squeaking in surprise, your back arching. There'd been no warm up, just an immediate burning pinch.

Then a twist.

“Oh, god!” You groaned deeply, your eyes clenching shut. The pain radiated much further than just your nipples, shooting down your breast tissue, almost all the way over your entire chest.

“Sounds so good.” He muttered, planting his feverish lips against the cheeks of your scrunched up face. “Such pretty noises.”

You put on a brave face, keeping your mouth tightly shut as he tested your limits, switching between pinching and twisting your sore buds.

He was impressed. You whined and groaned, but you never told him to stop. He released them and you sucked in a breath, your back relaxing back into the mattress.

“You have no fuckin’ clue,” Rick spoke, kissing down your chest. “How sexy you are. How sexy that was.”

You wrapped your fingers in his curls as he kissed your sides, clenching his hair in your fists when he opened his mouth and gave a hard bite on your waist right below your ribs.

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your legs instinctively bent at the knees, clenching around his torso under his armpits.

“Too much?” He hummed, releasing you from his teeth. He rubbed a finger along the bite mark and you winced, but shook your head.

Rick couldn't help but chuckle at the look on your poor pretty face. “Don't feel like you've got to impress me, sweetheart.”

“No.” You shook your head again, quicker this time. “Not that.”

“Good.” He went back to working you over, planting kisses down to your thighs.

Your body was beginning to relax at the gentle touches of his lips on you. But true to his nature, Rick ripped that feeling away, sending electricity through your heart and heat through your core when he sunk his teeth into the inside of your upper thigh.

Right below your panties he bit, over and over, sometimes just a nip, then a rough, teeth-gritting bite on the other thigh.

You were unbelievably wet. Your hole burned, desperate to have something inside it, anything.

His fingers grabbed your panties and tugged them down, and you got exactly what you'd prayed for.

The middle finger, his longest, slipped into you and pulled out a moan from your lips. He watched your face as he curled it, each curl and drag making you come more and more undone.

He'd be content to finger you for hours. Watching the glint of red on your ears when you'd turn your head, or the glimmer of gold under your collarbone when you'd arch your back. He almost came when he saw your fingers wrap around the golden pendant.

You were having the time of your life, squirming on your bed as he knelt between your knees and made you come.

“Oh, fuck, Rick!” You gasped, bending your knees again, wanting to wrap your legs around something, a waist, a head, but they were empty and you just slammed your knees together when the cord in your belly snapped.

“Shit.” Rick cursed, watching your face as you came. The faces you made, it made his chest tighten and the smallest, faintest, tiniest lump form in his throat. You were too beautiful. Too perfect, covered in his trophies, his trophy. All his work in the last year perfectly laid on your naked body.

You moaned behind closed lips, your eyes finally opening as your orgasm died down.

Your stomach flipped at the sight of Rick sitting there, staring at you. His eyes flicked up to yours when he saw them open. His shoulders rose and fell heavily, his nostrils ever so slightly flared.

“Rick?” You breathed his name, blinking away the fog in your eyes.

The image of him spreading your knees with his hands, those beautiful big hands, and crawling up your body set your core on fire again. You felt more wetness leaking out of you as he pushed his hips back between yours, forcing a soft moan from your throat.

He fumbled with his belt, leaving it through the loops, knowing you liked the clinking sound it made when he fucked you.

Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw the first flash of his dick. It looked much darker in the dim lighting of your room and the sight of his thick pubes made your stomach flip again. It was so masculine, so primal, it drove you insane.

“C'mere.” Rick huffed before kissing you again, tearing your gaze away from his dick.

You hummed into his lips, wrapping your fingers back in his cold hair. You'd succeed in making his slicked back hair messy, and thick curls fell down his forehead and tickled yours.

He smelt so good, his shampoo and his cologne. His breath as well, which led you to believe he'd brushed his teeth when he used your bathroom. With your toothbrush.

Even though he was sliding the tip of his dick around your slippery pussy, the thought of him using your toothbrush made you blush.

“Mmm, hah-” He grunted as he pushed into you, spewing out a string of curses as your walls squeezed him the way he'd squeezed your neck.

You felt a bit of pride at his reaction, and bit back a smile when he pressed his forehead against your shoulder to steady himself.

The feeling of his heavy cock sitting unmoving inside you finally sets your mind into a blank state. You breathed through your lips, slow and deep, trying to control your racing heart. The anticipation was killing you.

“Did you mean it?” He spoke, the sound of his low voice startling you.

When you didn't immediately answer he rolled his hips, and you moaned.

“When you said you can take it?” He continued, his hands moving from their place on your hips up your sides.

“Yes.” You answered with an eager nod.

He breathed out, and grinned, looking down at you with a sleazy and cocky expression. “Should've fucked you a long time ago.”

Before you could agree he pulled out an inch, and slowly pushed back in. You whimpered and tilted your hips upwards, already becoming greedy and impatient.

He teased you like that for a while, barely pulling out, slowly pushing back in, and it soon had you a whiny mess.

“Harder.” You whined, your fingers curling repeatedly around a lock of his hair.

“Yeah?” He hummed with a smile, pulling back out a little further, but still pushing back in just as slow. He pulled back out and caught you off guard by slamming back into you, making you see stars and birds.

“You like that? Huh?” He drawled, pulling back out even further, fucking his dick into you with another brutal thrust. "This what you want?"

You didn't respond with words, only nodding and moaning.

The quick and rough snatch of your chin in his fingers had you sobering up real quick. He forced you to look at him, his pupils blown, his open lips in a breathy smile. “Asked you a question.”

“Yes. I love it. I love it Rick.” You babbled, nodding faster. “Please don't stop.”

He dug his thumbnail into your chin, holding your face in place as he thrusted into you. His index finger slipped between your lips and forced your mouth open. Before you could react he was spitting on your tongue, and using his finger to slide down the back of it.

You gagged, a short and easy gag that wasn't uncomfortable. You could feel his dick twitch inside you at the sight and sound of you gagging on his finger.

He fucked you normally for a minute, his pace rough and deep, but still not fast enough for your liking.

“Sit up.” He grunted. You don't know why he even told you to because he was already moving you for him, grabbing you by your hips and moving until he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his feet planted on the floor and you in his lap.

The new angle had his dick much deeper. If he was only a few millimeters longer it would've been unbearable, but the pain was sharp and you loved it.

“So pretty. Pretty girl.” He cooed, squeezing the flesh of your hips as he rolled his hips up against you.

The image of him still fully dressed and you completely naked on his lap brought you closer to orgasm. As much as you loved it he was getting hot, and he had to take his jacket off and throw it behind you.

The white T-shirt that was a little too small was just as hot.

You grabbed fistfuls of his shirt so you wouldn't fall backwards and moved on him, lazily raising your hips in a way that complimented his own movements.

Each time you moved back down he'd move up, forcing himself as deep as possible, deep bolts of pleasure shooting through your core each time you sank back down.

Oh, finally, finally.

He picked up the pace.

He gripped your hips and started moving you on his own, bouncing you up and down on his length.

“Oh, god.” You blurted, tightening your grip on the front of his shirt. His rough mound of pubes dragged against your clit each time he tugged you down against him, and you were close.

“Gonna -”

He quickly cut you off. “Gonna cum for me?” He breathed, and one hand left your hip. He dropped you down on his dick and started using the strength in his thighs and core to fuck up into you.

You didn't have time to wonder where his hands went before his left one was in your hair, and his right was around your throat.

He squeezed, much harder than before. Your face immediately felt tight and hot, and you had to fully open your mouth to gasp down air. Thankfully he was only cutting off blood flow, and you could still breathe.

Not that it mattered much, because he quickly took your breath away with a slap to your face.

You came hard and with a sharp cry, your thighs squeezing his waist as your hips jerked in his lap.

“That's right.” Rick hissed, and wrapped your hair around his fist and yanked.

You didn't think it was impossible to reach a second high in the same orgasm, but you did. Your head spun as your body trembled against him. You couldn't process much of what happened, your mind was too fuzzy, your body buzzing to the point of shivering, twitching, and he slapped you again.

You cried out, your eyes snapping open to find his face.

He looked so beautiful. Face red in the dim lighting, that sexy stubble, his eyes dark with dilation. He looked just as ruined as you, but he was holding it together far better.

“S’it okay?” He slurred, his movements slowing as he took a moment to rub your red cheek.

You never in your entire fucking life thought you'd enjoy being slapped on the face. And certainly not by a man. But you didn't just enjoy it, you loved it, you loved the feeling of Rick hurting you and getting turned on by it. You loved his wide hand making your cheek burn.

“Stings a little.” You admitted, your voice raw from your vocal orgasm. “But, I liked it.”

“It stings?” He grinned lazily, rubbing his thumb over your cheek. “Was being gentle.”

You groaned, jerking your hips forward and earning a low grunt from Rick.

“Told you not to be gentle.”

“You're right.” He leaned in and kissed you, deep and firm. He pulled back, but not before catching your bottom lip in his teeth and pulling you back with him.

He rolled you over on your stomach and pushed back into you, taking a moment to kiss your shoulders and neck before getting back to screwing your brains out.

You pushed your ass into him, eager to feel him as deep as you had when you were in his lap. It worked, the tip of his dick slipped past the curve of your walls and rubbed against the soft spot inside you.

You should've pissed before sex, but it was too late for that now. You'd have to wait. Besides, the feeling was a guilty pleasure, something you'd feel embarrassed to admit, feeling him fuck into you when you needed to pee made each thrust feel ten times more intense.

He wrapped your hair around his fist again, his movements extremely deliberate and precise, the same precision as braiding your hair.

Rick used the grip on your hair to yank your head to the side. You let out a little yelp, and his other hand slid under you, finding your throat again.

“How's it feel?” he lowered himself down to your ear. He held your head in place with your hair, his grip tightening and pulling every so often, bringing sharp tingles down your scalp and neck.

“Having my hand around your throat.” He breathed. He kissed around the back of your neck, the tips of your shoulders, his hips slamming down against your upturned ass.

“Feels so good.” You rasped, pushing yourself back into him to prove your point. You shoved your pillow to the side so your nose wasn't covered anymore, enjoying the feeling of air on the side of your hot face.

“Is that right?” His teeth dug into the skin above your shoulder blades. "Love these hands?"

You couldn't answer. He'd tightened his grip around your throat and it wasn't just blood cut off from your brain anymore.

“You know what I've done with these hands?” He groaned after you clenched down around him at his words. The feeling you got and the reaction you gave to his words was morally reprehensible. It was fucking disgusting.

“Know how many?”

You should've felt ashamed that you came after that. But you didn't. Not at that moment, at least. Your walls squeezed around him and you tried to moan, but it was strangled out of you.

It felt like seeing God, or something holy and ethereal. Your vision was flashes of white and black, flickering like strobe lights, your head felt like it was about to explode with pressure. Your eyes burned, but your pussy felt amazing.

All you could do was grip onto the sheets beside your head and enjoy it, and pray you didn't pass out and miss the best post-orgasm glow of your life.

Rick let out this strangled groan behind your head, his brutal bulldozing of your spasming cunt growing sloppy. He squeezed your throat harder as he came into you, fucking each drop back up inside you as he fell down from his high. He drew out every single wave of pleasure, even to the point of it becoming uncomfortable for him, his dick burning and tingling with overstimulation.

His hand left your throat, and your head throbbed as the blood and oxygen rushed back up into it. You groaned, soft and pained, pressing your forehead into the mattress in an attempt to minimize the pain.

You couldn't really focus on it, thankfully, because the feeling of his dick dragging down and out of your trembling walls was too jarring.

“Fuck.” You grunted, your waist moving to the side to get his dick away from where he had it sitting against your pussy.

If you thought he was sweet after the first time, then he’s a bonafide angel this time.

He turned you over and sat you up, brushing your damp hair away from your sweaty face.

“Hey.” His palms smoothed down the sides of your head, fixing your wild hair. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” You managed a very weak and crooked grin.

He smiled in relief, and swiped his tongue under your nose, wiping away the small drop of blood that peeked out.

After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom he slipped your favorite night dress over your head, not bothering with underwear.

The post orgasm clarity was trying its damndest to make you feel like an awful piece of shit. Knowing what Rick had done to people who didn't deserve it. It was something you could never be okay with, but his lips kissing over every bite and bruise he'd given you did a good job taking your mind off it.

“Beautiful.” He whispered against the bite marks on your neck and chest, planting another kiss on the next mark. “Look at you.”

You knew you probably looked like you'd just crawled out of a car wreck. Your hair was still messy even though he'd tried to fix it, and your neck was a whole new problem. Bruises from his teeth and hands. Blood blisters from where he'd bitten down way too hard in some spots. Even though no vessels had burst in your eyes they were still red, and that wouldn't go away overnight. There were more turtlenecks in your future.

It was like art to Rick. You looked like art. He kissed your rings. His hands holding yours felt like they belonged to a completely different person, so gentle and light, as if you'd suddenly turned into glass and the slightest pressure would break you.

He kissed your throat, the bottom of your chin, and your swollen lips. There was the faintest twinge of purple on your bottom lip, a line fitting the exact measurement of his top left incisor.

“First time I've ever been fucked like that.”

Rick chuckled, raising his head from your lips to look down at your blissed out face.

“First time I've fucked like that.” He kissed your cheek before finally laying down beside you.

It surprised you, even though it shouldn't have. You were the first person he'd fucked since Lori, and she seemed like the type to blanch over simple restraints like fuzzy handcuffs, no disrespect intended.

“Is that what you think about?” You whispered, feeling your already burning cheeks get hotter. “When you're… Solo…”

He let out a gruff chuckle. “Yeah.” He laid out his arm for you to move into him, and you did. You pressed against his side and rested your head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his deep sweat and the remnants of his cologne.

“Is that all?” You asked, trying to sound confident. “Or, was there more?”

“More I wanted to try?” He humored you. You knew he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but the urge to know more was gnawing at you. When you nodded, he tilted his head to look up at the ceiling, which was now black from the lights being turned off.

“Yeah. There's more.” He finally answered.

You forced yourself to stop asking questions. You nodded against his chest and pressed yourself tighter against his side, nuzzling your head in an attempt to get more comfortable.

“Can talk about it later, if you want.”

You smiled. “Yeah. I do.”

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