♡ mark finds you in the middle of the night asleep on the bathroom floor, and he can feel the fever on your hot, clammy skin. he disappears for a moment and drags the comforter out of the guest room to set up a makeshift bed on the tile. he fills a bowl with ice water, soaks a washcloth, and gets as comfortable as possible beside you before patting your skin. you mewl, shifting uncomfortably, eyebrows furrowed. “i know, sweet girl.” he carefully moves your agitated figure so your head is in his lap and manages to get the plush bedding beneath your body. “achy. hot and achy. my shirt. mark, please take it off.” your cheeks are red, fingers attacking the buttons of your flannel. mark strokes your hand and gently replaces your touch with his own. you feel better once the thick material is off, revealing your chest. mark lays the washcloth over your bare skin before collecting a second one from the cabinet drawer and submerging the small square into the icy bowl.
♡ renjun makes sure you’re cozy in bed: fairy lights twinkling, your favorite plushies surrounding you, humidifier on, with tea, water, and crackers on your nightstand. he lets you know there’s ginger ale in the fridge, too. he sets up a studio ghibli movie and rolls fuzzy socks onto your feet. he starts a load of laundry and cleans your kitchen. he wipes down the countertops in your bathroom and comes running in with The Bucket when you call his name in a tone that could only mean one thing: you’re about to throw up again. he joins you half an hour into howl’s moving castle once all the household chores are finished and rubs your back. he helps you out of your sweatshirt when you’re feeling uncomfortably hot again and spends the rest of the afternoon holding you. by some miracle, he doesn’t get sick, too.
♡ jeno’s on the phone with the pharmacist, level-toned and kind as always despite the scene playing out in front of him: you, sick as a dog in his living room. you, flushed with body chills and aches, unable to keep anything down, and waiting for the prescription that was supposed to be ready two hours ago. “so 20 minutes? and if it doesn’t help? it will? how long until it takes effect?” you look over, catching the concern consuming his beautiful face, wishing he’d just come sit with you. you wave him over when you finally catch his eye. “please sit with me, jen and hold my hand. i can handle 20 minutes.” he thanks the pharmacist and hangs up, padding across the hardwood floor to you. your pointer fingers touch before tracing a smile in the air, and jeno finally relaxes, offering you the smallest beam before sinking into the couch to welcome your immediate cling. you take his hand and follow the lines in his palm, falling asleep before you reach the one closest to his wrist.
♡ haechan doesn’t believe you at first because you never get sick, then you send him a selfie from the hospital waiting room with a few colorful words, and he freaks. he’s waiting for the elevator down the hall from his apartment when he realizes he’s still wearing his slippers and curses at himself before turning on his heels. he makes a grocery list in his car of all the things to pick up once you’re out of your appointment, wishing he could’ve joined you, wondering why you didn’t tell him as soon as you started feeling symptomatic. he meets you at the entrance door with a mask and beanie on, guides you through the parking lot and asks what the doctor said and how you’re feeling. he reads the visit notes five times before leaving the lot because you started groaning in the passenger seat, begging him to take you home. “i’m sorry, baby. i’m so sorry. i need to get you some things, though. do you want to wait in the car? or i can take you home and come back out.” you agree to stay with him, adjusting the seat so you’re laying back, arm raised and resting over your eyes. he squeezes your forearm and pushes the ignition button. the scene scares him because he’s never seen you like this, and you get really quiet halfway to the store. he ends up taking you home instead and placing a delivery order. “bath or bed, sweetheart? actually, i think you should take a bath… try to break this fever.” “how do you even know that?” your voice is barely audible, breaking every other syllable as you hold onto him for balance and slip off your sneakers. “just big brother things…” haechan feels uneasy as he helps you undress once the tub is full, lavender bubble bath coating the room in a comforting scent. he sits on the fluffy rug and watches the domes and pockets of bubbles on the water’s surface before his eyes flit back to your face. your lips are chapped. your eyes are puffy and red. he can see every moment of pain - can tell you’re trying to downplay it in his presence. you lay your cheek against his hand that’s resting on the porcelain’s edge, and his heart lurches. you’ll be ok; it’s just the flu; you’ll be ok. the doorbell rings; the grocery order arrived. “two seconds, baby,” and he’s standing up, but you haven’t lifted your head, fast asleep. he grimaces and wakes you, hating the idea of leaving you unconscious in the bathtub. your boyfriend apologizes profusely before jogging to the front door.
♡ jaemin’s been restless all day, distracted by the knowledge of you, sick at home, and him not being there to take care of you. your texts stopped hours ago, and he's hoping all that means is you've been sleeping deeply, dreaming sweetly. for once, he’s the fastest to leave after rehearsals, watching the seoul night life pass by through his car window in neon blurs. his foot taps against the elevator floor, gaze focused on the rising numbers, stopping at 11, and he finally exhales. you’re asleep on the couch, surrounded by medicine and empty mugs, with tea bag strings hanging over their rims. a glass of water with enough left for one more sip sits beside a box of tissues. the trash can from your office is slanted, halfway on the living room rug. there’s a washcloth laid across your forehead. your blanket isn’t long enough to hide your feet; he smiles at the sight of your fuzzy socks covered in tiny teddy bears. the rings you always wear catch his eye where you’re fisting the gray knit. he drops his things and searches through a drawer for the thermometer. he walks across the length of your apartment and crouches in front of you to retrieve the washcloth and run the instrument across your forehead. he coos when the temperature flashes, dropping to a seated position. his touch meets your cheek; his palm smooths back your hair. he stands to his knees to fix the blanket and cover more of your frame. after a soft kiss brushes your forehead, the back pockets of his jeans meet the rug again. jaemin stays like that, right in front of you, close enough to smell the strawberries in your shampoo - close enough to hear the congestion in your exhales, with his cheek against the couch's end until you wake up, prepared for whatever you may need.
♡ chenle’s the slightest bit irritated with you he’s really just concerned because he told you to get your flu shot and you “forgot,” even though he wrote reminders for you and taped them to your fridge, bathroom mirror and front door, but when he finally makes it over and sees you… oh, the man melts. you overhear him on the phone, speaking to his mom while you’re dozing in and out of sleep on the couch. you keep moving from the couch, to your bedroom and back to the living room again because the living room feels cooler, and the view of seoul is more distracting from there. he’s making notes of all her tried and true remedies, constantly bending at the waist to see you clearly through the furniture. you give him little thumbs ups whenever you catch his check ins, but he knows you’re pretending. chenle can see the cloudiness in your eyes.
♡ jisung is beside himself. you called him in the middle of the night, and he had to pull his phone away from his ear to glance at the caller ID because the voice he was hearing sounded nothing like you. when you start to cry, he’s wide awake, switching his lamp on, trying to keep you calm, and reminding you to take deep breaths. “baby, slow down. tell me slowly what’s going on.” it’s kind of crazy how sweetly and assured he shows up for you. it’s like two friends who are both too anxious to wave down the waiter because one of them received the wrong meal, but he speaks up after realizing you’re more scared than he is. that captures his behavior when you’re sick. naver is his best friend for those three days. he texts jaemin and sneaks off to the bathroom to call his mom a few times. he even talks to the doctor on call at the office you go to to verify you shouldn’t come in and writes down all the symptoms to look out for. he apologizes profusely for not making you a better meal—he burned his first attempt, but you don’t care. you’re just full of gratitude that comes out in mouthed words because your voice was gone hours ago. you love the movies he chooses, too. it’s like all of your childhood favorites are also his (they are)
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ ty for reading! i’m trying to bring this blog back to life after such a long, unexpected hiatus :( love & gratitude if you’re still interested in reading my pieces <3
Hii, I love your writing so much, I just discovered your account and omg I just binged the entirety of it!!
Would you ever write a period piece, like something inspired by medieval times. Because, imagine Mark as a lowborn knight devoted to protecting the court's only female alchemist. They have mind-boggling sex and fall in love, duh. But, the reader's accused of performing witchcraft. So, she's sentenced to death. AND Mark's ordered to excecute her!
the mercy in his life
summary: accused of witchcraft and sentenced to death, you face execution by the knight sworn to protect you. but what the crowd doesn’t know is that he’s hiding a dangerous secret — and a desperate plan to save you.
pairing: knight!mark x alchemist!fem reader
genre: historical, romance, drama, angst, smut, forbidden love
warnings: explicit sexual content, public execution themes, religious and political persecution, emotional distress, betrayal, sacrifice, mention of blood, decapitation, manipulation of identity for escape.
you belonged in the shadows of the stone walls, where the air smelled of burnt sage and old parchment. where your hands, stained with crushed herbs and soot, crafted remedies for nobles who never looked you in the eye. you weren’t a lady, not by their measure—you didn’t wear silk, didn’t smile for men who thought your intelligence was a novelty. you were a necessity. useful. quiet. invisible.
until he came.
sir mark lee wasn’t supposed to speak to you. he was a knight—lowborn, yes, like you, but carved into legend by the steel in his grip and the loyalty in his gaze. they said he once felled a man twice his size for threatening the prince. they said his sword was blessed by god himself.
but he didn’t look like a legend when he stood in your chamber that night, armor scratched from battle, blood crusted at his temple. he looked human. lost.
“the healer’s too far,” he’d said, voice low and urgent. “they told me you could help.”
you remember the tremble of his body beneath your fingers as you cleaned the wound. how he watched your hands—not your face, not your figure, but your hands, like they held power.
“it’ll scar,” you told him, not knowing why you felt the need to speak softly. “but you’ll live.”
“then i owe you my life.”
he meant it.
after that, he returned often—always under the pretense of bruises and shallow wounds, always after dark. sometimes he didn’t even knock. just appeared in your doorway, breathless from training or battle, eyes searching the dim room until they found you.
“it’s quiet here,” he once said, the first night he stayed too long. “i can breathe.”
you didn’t touch each other. not yet. but the air between you grew heavy with want. every word he spoke lingered too long. every glance left your skin hot. he began to bring you things—dried rose petals, rare vials, broken relics from the battlefield. once, he placed a single golden pin in your palm. “it reminded me of you,” he said, and didn’t explain why.
you never wore it.
but you kept it in a drawer, where your fingers found it on restless nights.
because there was something unspoken between you—something dangerous. it curled beneath your skin like flame, threatening to devour you whole. you knew what it meant to be seen by a man like him. you knew what the court would say.
a knight and a witch, they’d whisper.
a blade and a curse.
they’d burn you for it.
but still, you let him return.
you let him look at you like that.
you let him touch your hand one night, when neither of you spoke, and the fire burned low, and the only sound was the trembling of your breath.
you didn’t stop him when his lips brushed your knuckles.
you didn’t stop him when they found you.
the night he kissed you, you thought it was a mistake.
he was half-drunk on pain and exhaustion, slouched in the wooden chair by your hearth. his armor lay discarded by the door, his tunic undone at the collar. the firelight carved golden edges into his face, highlighting the bruise along his jaw and the shadow beneath his cheekbone.
you stood beside him, grinding herbs in a small stone bowl, pretending not to notice the way his eyes followed you.
but you did.
“you should sleep,” you said, not looking at him. your voice was soft, too soft.
“i should,” he agreed.
he didn’t move.
you turned. “mark—”
“say that again.”
you blinked. “what?”
“my name. like that.”
you swallowed. “mark.”
his lips parted slightly, like it surprised him. like he hadn’t realized how much he wanted it.
“it sounds… holy. when you say it.”
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and you could feel the shift in the air—thick, charged.
“don’t say that,” you murmured, heart pounding.
“why not?”
“because i’m not holy.”
he smiled, slow and reverent. “i know. that’s why i come back.”
his fingers brushed yours. just barely. but it was enough to make you ache.
you could have pulled away. you should have.
instead, you set the bowl down and let your hand rest on his.
“this is dangerous,” you whispered, though your body leaned into the gravity of his.
his other hand came up to your waist—hesitant, warm, trembling slightly. “so is war. i still ride into it.”
you stood between his knees, close enough to feel the heat of him. his gaze dropped to your lips. lingered.
“tell me to stop,” he said. “and i will.”
you didn’t.
so he kissed you.
slow at first, like a secret. his lips moved gently against yours, searching, learning. he tasted like wine and fire and something softer—something only you had ever touched.
your hands curled into his hair, pulling him closer. he stood, lifting you with him, mouth never leaving yours. your back hit the wooden wall with a soft thud. your breath caught when he pressed against you—his body solid, needy.
“you don’t know what you do to me,” he murmured against your throat. “i dream about you.”
you gasped as his hands slid beneath your layers of cloth, palms hot against your waist, your hips.
“i think about you when i train,” he whispered, teeth grazing your collarbone. “when i’m bleeding. when i’m praying.”
his voice broke slightly. “i want you more than i want heaven.”
you pulled him closer, grounding yourself in his warmth. “then take me.”
he paused, forehead pressed to yours. “are you sure?”
you kissed him like an answer.
and he unraveled.
he lifted you easily, carrying you to the cot as if you weighed nothing. his kisses grew desperate—needy—his hands shaking as he undressed you. he looked at you like you were something sacred and forbidden, something he should fall to his knees before. and when he finally slid inside you, slow and deep, you swore you saw stars.
he held you like he couldn’t believe you were real. moved inside you like he wanted to memorize every sound you made, every tremor in your body.
“look at me,” he whispered. “please, look at me.”
you did.
and what you saw in his eyes was not lust. it was devotion.
pure. aching. terrifying.
like he’d burn the world for this.
like he already had.
he undresses you like he’s learning you.
his fingers move slowly over the laces of your bodice, undoing each one with reverence, his eyes fixed on your skin as it’s revealed inch by inch. he doesn't rush. doesn’t speak. he only breathes—deep and controlled, as though he's afraid the moment will vanish if he moves too fast.
“you’re trembling,” he murmurs, brushing your bare shoulder with the back of his hand.
“so are you.”
his lips press to your collarbone, warm and tender. “i’ve never wanted anything this much.”
your chemise slips down your arms and pools at your feet. he steps back for a moment—not to admire, but to steady himself. to feel the weight of seeing you bare in front of him for the first time. your nipples are hard from the cold, your thighs pressed together in shyness.
mark steps in close, his hands finding your hips, his mouth returning to yours—hungrier now. he kisses you like a man who’s been starved. tongue sliding past your lips, one hand gripping the back of your neck while the other slips down, down—
until it finds the heat between your legs.
you gasp into his mouth.
his fingers are rough from swordwork, but careful—featherlight as he brushes through your folds, slow and teasing.
“fuck,” he whispers when he feels how wet you are. “is that all for me?”
you nod, breath shaky.
“say it.”
“it’s for you,” you whisper. “it’s always been for you.”
he groans, sinking to his knees.
and that—that sight alone nearly makes you come. the court’s golden knight, down on the floor, pulling your thighs apart like a man possessed. he looks up at you once, lips swollen, eyes dark.
“hold on to something,” he says. “i’m not stopping.”
and he doesn’t.
his tongue finds your clit instantly—circling, sucking, flicking in just the right rhythm while two fingers slide into your dripping heat. the stretch is perfect, obscene, your body grinding against his face without shame.
you cry out his name. over and over.
“mark—mark, please—fuck—”
he moans into you like he’s savoring the taste. his fingers curl inside you, stroking your sweet spot until your thighs shake around his head. you come fast—too fast—your body clenching hard, legs trembling, and still, he doesn’t stop. he fucks you through it with his mouth and fingers, coaxing every drop of pleasure out of you until you’re whimpering, begging—
“please, mark, i need you inside me. now.”
he’s already halfway undressed. you help him push his pants down, and his cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking.
you reach for him, wrapping a hand around the base.
“you’re big,” you whisper, almost dazed.
he chuckles low in his throat. “you can take it. i’ll go slow.”
he lines himself up with your entrance, rubbing the tip through your soaked folds until your hips buck.
“ready?”
“yes. please—mark—”
he pushes in, inch by inch, stretching you open so deeply, so sweetly, your head falls back against the pillow. your mouth drops open in a silent cry. he groans, gripping your thigh.
“fuck—you’re so tight. so warm.”
he bottoms out, stays there for a second, trembling above you.
“you feel like home,” he breathes.
you lift your hips to urge him deeper, and he starts to move—slow thrusts, deep and measured, dragging along every sensitive inch inside you. one of his hands slides under your back to pull you closer, chest to chest.
“look at me,” he says again. “i need to see you.”
you do. and it nearly breaks you.
the way he stares—like you’re salvation and sin all at once. like he’d die in your arms if you asked.
he picks up the pace, hips snapping harder now, your bodies slapping together as your moans fill the room. you wrap your legs around his waist, and he fucks you deeper, faster, panting against your neck.
“i love you,” you whisper, breath caught between sobs of pleasure.
he freezes for half a second.
then he slams into you—hard—and groans against your throat.
“say it again.”
“i love you,” you repeat, louder this time. “i love you, mark—”
he thrusts faster, wild now, hand slipping between you to rub your clit again. it takes seconds before you’re coming again—clenching around him, gasping as your vision goes white.
“gonna come,” he growls, voice wrecked. “inside you. can i—?”
“yes,” you gasp. “mark, fill me, please—”
he groans your name as he spills into you, hips jerking erratically, cock pulsing deep inside. he kisses you through it—your lips, your cheeks, your temple—as if trying to brand himself into your skin.
when it’s over, he collapses on top of you, both of you slick with sweat, your hearts beating like war drums.
he stays buried inside you, still hard, still holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
“i’ve never had anything this real,” he whispers against your skin. “not until you.”
he stayed until morning.
you woke with your leg draped over his hip, his nose buried in your neck, his hand still on your waist like he couldn’t bear to let go, not even in sleep. the fire had burned out hours ago, but the warmth of his body—solid, steady—wrapped around you like a promise.
you stayed quiet for a long time. breathing him in.
you didn’t want to be the first to speak.
“i thought it was a dream,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “i’ve had so many.”
your fingers moved slowly through his hair. “this one’s real.”
he shifted, just enough to kiss your shoulder. “then let me stay in it. just a little longer.”
and he did. he stayed the whole day.
he made you tea. kissed you between sips. traced the curve of your hip with calloused fingers while you told him about the healing properties of dried rosemary. you watched the way he listened—truly listened—as if every word you spoke mattered more than any prayer, any sword, any oath.
you didn’t say the word love.
but it bloomed quietly in the room. in the touch of his hand on your back. in the way he kissed your ankle before laying you down again, mouth warm and reverent on your skin.
he knelt between your thighs like a man come to worship.
his tongue found you slowly—wet, careful, patient. he groaned when you moaned, gripping your thighs as if the sound alone undid him. he didn’t stop until your voice broke on his name, until your legs trembled and you begged him—desperately, breathlessly—to come inside you.
and when he did, it wasn’t rushed. it was slow, aching. he slid in deep and held your face in his hands like you might shatter if he didn’t.
“you feel like sin,” he whispered, “and i’d choose you anyway. every time.”
you kissed him to quiet the sob that rose in your throat.
because you knew. even then.
love like this wasn’t meant to last.
after that night, he returned as often as he could. not just with bruises or offerings—but with longing. with need.
“i missed you,” he’d whisper, shutting the door behind him with trembling hands. “days feel longer when i’m not inside you.”
and you’d undress him by candlelight, kiss the scar by his hip, feel him grow hard against your belly as you whispered your own confessions.
“i wait for you,” you’d admit. “i sleep in your shirt. i read your letters again and again.”
he’d bury himself in you like he could protect you from the world. he’d fuck you slowly some nights, eyes locked to yours, hand between your legs, breath hot on your ear. other nights he’d take you against the table, desperate and rough, your skirt bunched at your waist, his mouth muffling your moans.
but always—always—he held you after.
as if his body was your shield.
as if he could keep the world away.
but the world was not kind.
not to people like you.
you noticed the whispers first. the way the maids avoided your eyes. the way the king’s advisor lingered too long outside your door.
one morning, mark arrived later than usual. blood on his sword, panic in his eyes.
“they’re watching you.”
your hands trembled. “who?”
he stepped forward, gripping your shoulders. “the council. they’ve seen the relics you’ve been studying. the salves you’ve made. they think it’s unnatural.”
“it is natural,” you said, voice cracking. “it’s chemistry. observation. logic.”
“they don’t care.” his voice broke. “they’ve seen the burn marks on your fingers. the powders. the symbols in your notes.”
you stared at him. “you think they’ll accuse me?”
he looked like he was about to fall to his knees. “they already have.”
the night before your sentence, he came to you in secret.
the guards let him in without a word. his rank allowed it. no one questioned why a knight would want a final word with the woman he’d been ordered to kill.
you were sitting on the floor, your ankles shackled, your wrists raw from the chains.
he fell to his knees in front of you.
“don’t speak,” you whispered. “just hold me.”
and he did.
his hands shook as he undid your binds. his lips found your temple, your cheeks, your mouth. he kissed your tears away and pulled you into his lap like he couldn’t bear the distance. like his arms were the only place you had left to live.
you kissed him back—desperate, hungry, grieving.
when he lifted you into his arms and laid you down on the stone floor, neither of you cared that the world was ending outside that cell.
his body hovered over yours, his eyes soaked in pain and reverence.
“if this is the last time,” he said, voice cracking, “i want you to remember how i loved you.”
“show me.”
and he did.
his hands moved over you feverishly, like he needed to memorize every inch before they took you away. his mouth worshiped you—biting, kissing, licking everywhere he could reach.
he fucked you with a kind of despair that bled into every stroke—slow, hard, deep. he held your face the whole time. kissed you between every thrust. whispered your name like it was the last word he'd ever speak.
your nails clawed down his back, your bodies slapping in a rhythm more desperate than gentle.
“come for me,” he begged. “i need to feel it. please—please.”
you did, gasping, sobbing, breaking open beneath him.
he followed with a cry—buried inside you, body shaking, moaning your name like a prayer that wouldn’t save him.
after, he didn’t move. just held you.
and when dawn broke, he whispered three words into your hair:
“i have a plan.”
the air in the square feels carved from iron.
it’s barely morning, but already the sky is bruised, heavy with smoke and dust, the sun hidden behind low, churning clouds. the crowd gathers thick around the platform—commoners, merchants, guards, even a few nobles lining the edge in muted colors, whispering beneath their veils. no one dares to speak too loud. no one dares to look away.
up on the scaffold, a girl kneels.
she wears only a thin, off-white chemise—something that might’ve once been undergarments, now soaked from the morning dew, clinging to her body like a final insult. her hands are bound behind her back, and a coarse burlap sack has been pulled over her head. it covers her face completely, as if even in death, the sight of her is too much to bear.
beside her stands a knight.
armor polished. back straight. face unreadable.
mark.
he looks at the girl in silence for a moment longer than he should have.
his grip on the sword tightens.
then he speaks.
his voice carries across the square like a knife’s edge—sharp, clear, final.
“by order of the royal council, for the crimes of blasphemy, defiance of divine law, and the practice of forbidden arts…” he pauses. just long enough for the crowd to hold its breath. “(y/n), the court’s former alchemist, is hereby sentenced to death.”
some gasp. others cry.
but mark doesn’t blink.
he raises the sword above his head, perfectly still.
for a second—just a second—the wind seems to die.
and then the blade comes down.
a thud. a sharp cry from somewhere in the crowd. the body slumps forward, lifeless.
blood stains the wooden boards.
“the sentence has been carried out,” mark announces, stepping back from the fallen figure. “the accused is dead.”
the crowd erupts.
some cheer. some cross themselves. others simply watch in stunned silence as two guards approach to drag the limp body away.
mark turns, slowly, descending the scaffold with heavy steps. his face remains hard. unreadable. dutiful.
but behind his eyes, something burns.
and far beyond the square—beyond the walls, past the fields, deep in the cover of the forest—
a single horse races down a dirt path.
its hooves hammer the ground with desperate speed, mud flying, breath steaming in the cold air. tied to the back is a plain wooden carriage, bouncing wildly with every turn.
inside, hidden beneath layers of cloth, you lie curled on your side.
your fingers tremble as you pull back a layer of thick linen. the scent of earth and damp wood fills your lungs. the sky outside is blurry through the slats—branches whip past, wind howling like something feral. you clutch a dark cloak to your chest, still warm from the body that gave it to you.
from him.
you blink rapidly, eyes burning.
outside, a voice yells above the storm.
“hyah! go! faster, damn it—go!”
you know that voice.
donghyuck.
you remember the way he came to you in the dead of night, face pale, breath fast. don’t speak, he’d said. just trust him. trust me.
you hadn’t asked questions.
you’d only run.
and now you’re here, hidden among herbs and straw, body aching from the cold, alive—alive—while the crowd back in the village still believes you’re rotting on the scaffold.
you press a hand over your mouth as the realization strikes.
he lied.
he gave them a body. not yours.
he gave them a sentence. not your death.
he gave you a chance.
you gasp, swallowing down a sob, but it’s too late—the tears come hard and fast, hot against your cheeks. your fingers dig into the fabric of the cloak, desperate for something to hold onto, something that still smells like him.
you twist slightly, pulling the curtain back with trembling fingers.
and through the trees, barely visible in the distance, you see it—
the dark spire of the church tower. the same one that watched over your execution. the same one that now rings hollow bells into the sky.
you stare at it, eyes full of tears, heart breaking.
“mark…”
you whisper it like a prayer. like a farewell.
you know you won’t see him again.
you know he gave everything to save you—his oath, his honor, his life as he knew it. and he stayed behind, sword still dripping, face still carved from stone.
for you.
the carriage races on, carrying you further and further into the unknown.
and you, hidden beneath it all, turn your face to the past.
Content Warning: Very verbal. A lot of degradation and humilliation. Praise kink. Very detailed deep throat/ Oral sex. Possesive. Threeome. Sub reader.
"Oh I love that sound" His voice made it difficult for you to stay still. It was your first time deepthroating someone like that, and the gagging sound seemed to have awaken something in him. His hand held your head in that position, not moving an inch, though his length was throbbing, massaging the back of your throat slightly. Another gag.
His fingers pull from your hair, forcing your head far from his figure. Deep breaths help you recover slightly. You open your eyes, noticing the notorious string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. His length fully erect, covered with your spit. "Come on, open your mouth again" He asks with a sweet tone and a mischevious grin. You open your mouth widely. "Your tongue out, come on" You do so, looking directly into his eyes. His lips curve forming an evil smile. His length enters fully in your mouth once again.
You gag again when it reaches the limit of your throat, this time he keeps the position for longer, keeping the air away from your lungs. You protest against his skin, only limiting the air even more. Your hands tap on his thights, seeking compassion. His hands pull you away once again, except this time he kneels down, next to you. You are busy coughing and heavy breathing, so he allows you some seconds to recover.
After some time his fingers curl around your chin lifting your face to make you look at him. "Open your eyes and look at me" You follow his orders, though your tears make it difficult for you to see anything. "Did you like that?" His question seems so sudden, you've talked about this for hours before actually doing it, of course you were enjoying it. "Yes" There's no doubt on your voice. "Louder"
"Yes" You shout. "Yes what? What did you like?" You take a deep breath before answering. "I liked how you used my mouth" His fingers wrap your hair again, pulling it down, to make you look up as he gets up. "What a dirty slut" He lets out before spitting on your face. "Open your fucking mouth" He orders and you obey, receiving his hot spit into your mouth. His free hand recollect the spit decorating your face and puts it into your mouth. You swallow it all.
He pulls your hair, dragging your body across the room. His arms lift you and drop you onto the matress leaving your head hanging on the edge of the bed. His length enters your mouth once again, this time there's absolutely no way for you to move. He thrusts as he pleases, getting more and more worked up. At some point an extra pair of hands start touching your body softly. Mark must've arrive, you figure.
Donghyuck's hand grabs yours and places it on your throat. "Keep it there" He says, thrusting deeper into you, hands on the sides of your torso. You are confused at first, until you notice the bulge going up and down your throat, following his movements. A sudden wave of pleasure washes over you.
A hot tongue starts playing along your folds, taking advantage of the wet and messy state your cunt is in. Hyuck starts leaving a mix of kisses and bites over your stomach, so you never know what to expect, sometimes you get a soft caress of his lips over your sensitive skin and others you receive a painful yet pleasurable hint of his teeth. On rare ocassions he kisses over a spot that has been bitten, and even that softness pokes your sore skin.
Your pussy though, that's a different story, it's completely moistured, a mix of your own juices and Mark's saliva drips down your body, reaching your asshole. His tongue draws circles over your clit for a while, then he sucks your clit in with different intensities, then his tongue enters you, reaching inside as fas as it can. His fingers join later, for a deeper dive inside your walls, curling up to reach your g-spot. Your legs wrap around his neck, pushing him closer.
You end up cumming pretty fastly, but it does not affect anything around you, both boys keep their actions as if nothing happened, as if your loud moans hadn't been silenced by his length entering deepen inside your throat, as if your body hadn't been shakingfor a while. It had calmed down though, slowly, although a new wave of pleasure was already forming inside of you.
Hyuck pulls out of you suddenly. "You're gonna ask me permission to cum this time okay?" You simply nod. "Okay?" You gulp. "Yes" He smirks. "Good girl. Now look at the mirror" He says pointing at the mirror standing right behind Mark. "Look how fucking desperate you are, look how much of a slut you actually are" Your cheeks burn in embarrassment at his words.
"Can I cum?" You ask noticing how close you're getting. "Beg" His voice had a dark undertone to it. "Please, let me cum" He chuckles. "You can do it better" You take a deep breath to delay your orgasm. "Please, I'm a desperate slut, I need to cum so badly, please let me cum" He smirks. "Add more desperation" You start tearing up, almost unable to control your high any further. "Please, I'm so wet and desperate for cumming please, have mercy and let me" Before you can finish you hear his "Cum" and your body reacts instantly, with no need of further actions.
Hyuck comes closer to you and start kissing you passionately while Mark leaves wet kisses and bites on your thighs.
Hii, I wanted to inform you all that I'll be testing a new format with the advent calendar fics, so if you leave a comment, I'll reply portraying the characters of the fic. If you want someone specific to answer you write his name, if you don't I'll choose for you. Have a nice day and comment if you want to test this <3
Morning seeps through the blinds and you find yourself not waking up alone in your bedroom when you take a full seat and glimpse next to your side. There's someone else's lying with you on the mattress, well, that someone else's was mark lee, which was your friend until the movie session turned into something else in the state that you didn't even know how to face or assured to call him per usual the next day if you were about to bump into him since you spent the previous wild night together.
But here you were, finding yourself too drunk yesterday and somehow ended up with your biggest crush lying on your bed the morning after, also fuck it, though you feel like you're still stirring in your sleep you can't help but think that mark is very tempting at this moment and you just can't even believe in yourself for having a turned on on an unconscious mark lee that stay still peacefully in his sleep.
You currently watch him slumber in silence, not even aware that you got your mouth watering over him and started to scoot closer, lying beside him as he's sleeping facing you. You didn't touch him at first, you only admire his features and only could thinking about how damn fine this man was, even in his doing-nothing state like ugh. Then you started to move your hand and caress his strand hair-very carefully, and tracing his eyebrows-very delicately, as afraid that he might be broke if you touch him in not so gently manners.
Then you snapped when he suddenly groan and bring his hand over to rest on your waist, with him being-of course-senseless. You froze when he did that, and you started to trembling on a thought of having him all over you again right at this instant. Would he mind if you just...?
You felt like you're suffering, you're waking up horny, needy, and he looks so fucking good in his sleep right now that it makes you just want him more than anything. You started breathing heavily, eyes closed shut with a low 'fuck' leaving your mouth and you sigh under your breath, as started to put your bodies against each other.
You snug into him and straddle him from the side, your left leg was on his waist. Two of your hands circling around his neck and shoulder, then you started humping on him. It's in a slow pace at first but then you felt the urge to grind on him even harder and that's when he started to stir in his sleep.
"Y/n?" He called as he squint his eyes, baffled as he just wake up from his sleep. Knowing he's finally fully awake, you started to hug him even tightly and grinding harder, making him groan and you can feel his boner getting evidence by the mean time. Poor mark lee, he just woke up and have to see you panting and so so so needy for him it's almost looked pathetic. Mark was just stay still, closing his eyes shut while balling a fist to covering his face, apparently trying so hard to get himself together.
"Shit.. don't go too fast.." he said. That's just made you go harder as you let another needy moan. "M-mark, gonna cum." You tell him. "Wanna cum, please." His hand now were all over your ass, pushing you down forcefully onto him as he buck his hips into your core and started to equally thrust sensually. "Do it. Cum."
And so you did. You pant onto his chest and grab him by his shirt, feeling all hot and sweaty even if it's just 7 in the morning. You felt so relieved as you came down from your high, but mark definitely haven't came, and you just leave him with such a morning wood, so after getting up and sat on the bed as mumbling a 'sorry' to him, you proceed to take your clothes off, leaving you just in your panties, and you swear the way he's just staring at you with awe was so fucking endearing.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Taking care of you." Before he could speak another word you're already on your knees and yank his boxer down, grabbing a handful of his cock and take him into your mouth. He let out a deep groan and tossed his head back, jaw clenching when you roll your tongue and suck into his tip. His chest was heaving and his abdomen flexing when you take him until the tip was on the back of your throat, making you gag around his size.
"Fuck.. just like that baby, keep going." You bob your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks, do whatever you can to make him feel good. He then took a fist of your hair as a grip and finally look down at you, his eyes were heavy lidded and his mouth was agape all while sounding so pretty with the low moan and some profanities he uttered.
"Good girl. You're doing so fucking good right now." You hum, the vibration makes him shudder and his abdomen tensed, he thrown his head back as his breath hitch. "Aw shit, m gonna cum." He quick to face fucked you unconsciously, trying to catch his high before finally shoot his warm load into your mouth with a low, long grunt. You swear to god that that shit making you even more wet, pussy clenched over nothing.
You try to swallow all of his load as you saw mark's face all contorted in pleasure, and for fucks sake, there's nothing more sexy than the shit you're seeing right now.
You wiped the quite mess with the back of your hand and then sing song before him, "breakfast."
note | mark lee being in love !!! is a concept !!! i like to think about !!!
"how does it feel to let people down all the time?"
mark paused with an uncontrolled chuckle. he debated his response as he pressed the tip of his lead pencil against the class record book repeatedly, his mind blanking out the middle of the sentence he was writing, thus leaving dots of lead on the paper instead.
"well–um, haha!" he cleared his throat after a gentle voice crack, then he let out an uncontrolled chuckle again. it sounded almost identical to the last one he let out. mark shook his head at this ridiculousness before he spoke, "when you phrase it that way, it makes it sound like i disappoint people all the time."
"you do," you said without a beat's passing, your eyes still focused on the window of your classroom where a sullen girl had gone by. "don't you?"
mark blinked with a dejected yet amused smile. he had no idea why he was trying to defend himself when what you said was technically true. he does, in fact, have to let people down a lot.
it was only the start of the year, and he had already gotten plenty of love confessions from people from all corners of this town.
from the girl in cram school, the junior he was tutoring for an extra credit program, the senior from music club, and the boy he meets every morning at the bus stop. And, just then, a girl next class. he let all of them down by giving out countless rejections, and he has seen numerous disappointed smiles. he assumed things would get more hectic as valentine's week rolled to its red carpet entrance.
"it's not like i want to reject them," mark said, scribbling on the record book. "you can't fault me for who i didn't fall in love with."
you hummed thoughtfully and audibly; the tone he has long learned to recognize to mean that you have something insightful to say. he waited in silence for you to speak, his concentration hanging on his written words and his patience. he didn't notice it, but the class was unsatisfactory today, according to the teachers' remarks.
"move your hand, mark," you muttered suddenly as you reached over and tapped at his hand with the eraser tip of your pencil. he complied easily, glancing from your end of the table to the record book before him, then he heard you sigh. you asked, "did you not get the teacher's signature after school?"
"huh? uh, i didn't, i guess..." he replied with a drop of his voice. his attention was elsewhere.
mark suppressed a smile when he saw you glare at him with faint annoyance. your lips muttered your distaste for his careless mistake, complaining about the uselessness of your nagging for him to do tasks according to instructions.
you always tried to keep those words to yourself, perhaps as a caution to not hurt his feelings. but some part of your mind also desperately needed your frustration to be heard, so you always ended up giving him a scolding gaze that displayed a warm defeat he has grown to love so much. it was when he would talk too much in class, or when he would stray off-topic in discussions, or when he wasn't paying attention to your explanation of a math problem.
sometimes he does those things on purpose just to get a scrap of your endearment—something he found in the gaps of your every action toward him—despite having additional consequences. he has gone to detention just to hear you ask him to stop talking.
"it's okay! i'll make sure to get the signature tomorrow morning," he said optimistically.
you huffed with furrowed brows, then you relaxed. it wasn't really that big of a deal. "you better."
you returned to the class budget book. you were chosen to mind the budget for the upcoming school valentine's fair, where each class would be in charge of a station of their choice. it could be about food, music, or fashion as long as the theme is school-appropriate. it is also a good day to sell the school to prospective students as parents would likely come along with the middle school children.
mark stared at you expectedly for a moment before he cleared his throat. you had clearly forgotten about the previous conversation you started, and he still wanted to hear what you had to say about his love life. was he trying to gauge your interest in him? a little. has he ever been good at checking for people's romantic interests in him? absolutely not, but he suspected he would be hyper-aware of yours because he has feelings for you.
he just needed something, however trivial and however minor. it could even be a delusional assumption! he just needed to experience a leap of joy from believing that you may also be in love with him.
"so, you were saying?" he asked casually.
you looked at him then, confused. "saying what?"
"after i told you not to fault me for who i didn't fall in love with," he said as he returned your gaze.
you raised your brows, and your shoulders slumped in relaxation once your mind bounced back into deep thoughts. looking to the side where the corner of your desk was, you saw a glimpse of mark's hand that tended to rest there, and you looked away to the window, where you watched as mark rejected the pretty girl's confession. you frowned, causing his heart rate to pick up.
"i don't think falling in love is out of our control," you said. "i think we choose to love who we do."
"you're saying love is a choice," he asked rhetorically, the corner of his lips quirking in question.
you were about to push your stance until you saw the amused expression on his face. you squinted at him, knowing very well he disagreed with you just from the glint of his eyes, and you gave up on explaining your philosophy further. tapping your pencil's end against the desk mindlessly, you chuckled in surrender. he mirrored your laughter immediately just to hear how the air would sound with your voices woven together.
"each to their own," you said.
"alright," mark nodded, "but one of my friends said once that love is nothing but a promise."
you tilted your head with a faint, humming laugh. "which is a choice."
"i just thought it was romantic," he said with a shrug.
"i mean–when i say by choice, i just meant... " you sighed in frustration as you put down your pencil. mark looked up at you, and you pouted in dismay. you thought you weren't going to say more about this, but you always end up talking. you chuckled lowly to yourself. "goodness, and i tried to say each to their own opinion."
"it's okay," he reassured, his fingers playing with each other on the table. "what do you want to say?"
"nothing groundbreaking," you whispered with rejection, poor eyes staring at him to let it be known that your self-consciousness dampened your mood, then you looked away.
mark softened upon your sullen expression, much more than he had felt when he rejected the girl next class.
your misconception that you must only speak if you have new things to contribute to the conversation was, as he believed, nothing but a misconception. as he could hear you talk about anything. dull things, obvious things, unnecessary things. maybe that he was holding a pencil, or the sun was setting outside the school, or that you two were sitting across each other and you found him looking at you a lot. anything.
you turned to look out the window when you caught a glimpse of a figure. the girl from the next class walked past slowly, her eyes a faraway gaze you cannot reach. you watched her move, taking in the elegant beauty of only half of her features being visible. you found yourself drawn to her in a way that mark unbelievably was not; not in a romantic sense, only that you wondered why he didn’t at least try.
"i just don't understand. i don't understand why you rejected her," you said, brows furrowed in thoughts. "she's so pretty."
mark blinked in disbelief. he spared a glance out the window and quickly back at you, whose eyes remained focused on the past silhouette of the girl who admired him. he cursed inwardly at himself because he couldn't tell what you were thinking or what you were implying. there was no way for him to let it be known that the matter lay not in how beautiful someone else was but that his heart belonged to you.
and that fact had not been a choice. to make a choice, one has to be in the know of it being made.
but he never knew.
he knew nothing about how he captured the current youth on your face and yearned to watch the creases grow old so he could be able to tell the stories of them as he aged. he knew nothing about being above common sense as a boy who fell in love because all he did were stupid things just to hear you laugh at him, to hear you nag him. he knew nothing about worrying and overthinking, analyzing and longing, thinking about what you were doing and thinking even though you sat next to him.
mark didn't know he was in love with you until he did. until the realization hit him like vines tightening around his lungs, and he had to choke out his affection in a splatter of blood. and he couldn't trace back to where it all began.
even if you noticed the way he looked at you now, hazy eyes swarmed with an unknown substance that bubbled and foamed like soft clouds that were forbidden to leave the sky where they belonged, he doubted you would understand what his heart meant.
his body contorted upside down, his heart raced the speed of light, his dreams a vivid reaction to his desires to be with you.
his heart was yours, and you thought she was pretty.
"i'm sorry," mark muttered with a sorrowful chuckle. this was a new type of pain he had never experienced before; his lover being oblivious and directing him to another. "you can't fault me for who i fall in love with."
"i don't," you responded. "you be in love with whoever you want, as will i."
his heart paused, and he looked up through his lashes. for a moment, panic surged through his veins, the vines around his ribs suffocating him with the possible assumption that you would fall in love with another. his hand shook with uncertainty. the thought was haunting.
"woah," you expressed as you placed a hand over his, tightening your grip to stop his tremors. "are you okay, mark?"
your concerned eyes drew him in; he wondered if he drowned himself in your senses enough, you might get a whiff of his affectionate scent. he looked at you, his bones softening and melting upon the tender graze of your touch, and he wished you were right about love.
let love be a choice, and please, let him be yours.
20:24 // ❥ new alert! // mark, the sweetest boy alive
“look, i told you,” jeno says, shoving his phone in your face as he points aggressively at the picture he had taken a few hours ago. “there are eighteen of them, look!” he repeats, finger shifting about the screen in an attempt to point out all eighteen statues he was referring to.
“you missed four out,” you sigh, putting your chopsticks down. “i think i got a picture,” you mumble, entering your gallery, scrolling through the photos in search of the one that would prove jeno wrong. he inhales another spoonful of rice, commenting, “you can’t find it, right? because it doesn’t exist?”
you roll your eyes, trying your best to recall when it was that you had taken the photo. you jump in excitement when it hits you - you had taken it on your boyfriend’s phone.
“babe?” you call out, reaching out for mark’s phone and unlocking it swiftly. “is it okay if i scroll through your gallery? i need to find the photo of the statues we took last fall,” you continue, peeping over at mark who was still busy doing the dishes.
“sure,” he replies, giving you the green light. you enter his gallery, scrolling in a hurry, deadset on proving jeno wrong.
jeno waits for a few moments, but instead of a retort, he notices your halted thumb, and your quirked brow. he doesn’t want to intrude mark’s privacy, so instead of just looking over at whatever that is on the screen that has caught your attention, he asks, “what’s wrong?”
in your hurry, you had accidentally scrolled way past last fall. instead, you have entered (probably) summer of two years ago. you manage to tear your eyes away from the screen, shifting your gaze to return jeno’s, with, “what are these?”
you turn the screen to face jeno. he takes a glance, before stuffing down another spoonful of rice, with a nonchalant, “mark’s aglio olio.”
you already knew that. mark’s aglio olio. mark’s signature aglio olio that you have engraved in the deep depths of your heart. it was the first dish he made for you, seven months into your relationship after the one time you had casually remarked that it’s sweet to be surprised with a homecooked meal. you’d never even imagined mark would surprise you with one, given the known fact that he isn’t the most talented in the kitchen.
but he proved you wrong.
the real question is, why are there more than twenty pictures of the same aglio olio that you had only had once?
“why are there so many pictures of it? with so many different plating styles?” you question, clicking into the first photo, then swiping left to look through the rest of them. looking through the pictures this way makes it look like they’re a bunch of progression photos. as though every new picture, was an improved dish or plating style from the last.
“oh,” renjun exclaims, taking a sip of water. “we ate that for a whole month,” he states, faking a shiver. “yeah, we swore off italian for the longest time after that,” jeno adds on, making a disgusted face.
you can’t help the smile that brightens your features when the realisation dawns upon you.
mark had been practising to make sure it was the perfect aglio olio.
you get up, making your way to the kitchen. as you approach the familiar back view of your boyfriend, your smile only tugs wider. you snake your arms around his waist, pulling him close as you rest your cheek against his shoulder blade.
you can hear the smile in his voice when he speaks gently with, “why? bored of the guys?”
you take in his scent, shaking your head. “no, i just wanted to tell you i love you,” you gush, pressing your lips against his shoulder.
he turns off the tap, wipes his hands down with a dry towel, then turns around and rests his arms around your waist. “suddenly?” he says, raising a brow.
“i love you,” you repeat, your heart oozing with nothing but love and affection for the boy in front of you.
“i love you too,” he reciprocates, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
you shake your head, blinking your dry eyes a few times in an attempt to keep yourself alert. although you're very much enjoying jisung's story time, you can't control your eyelids that are gradually getting heavier and heavier.
mark notices the small change in your smile - yes, you are still very much in a good mood, but he can tell that you're tired. he shimmies himself a little closer to you, whispering in your ear, "tired?"
you turn to him, your smile a little wider than before. "a little," you admit. mark crosses his legs, tapping gently on his left thigh, "want to rest?" he offers.
nodding your head, you lean into the floor, resting your head against mark's leg. he shifts a little, doing his best to ensure that you're comfortable. "goodnight," he whispers, pressing a soft peck to the side of your head.
you close your eyes, jisung's loud and excited voice still going on about how he saw a dog on the street playing with a bird. you didn't really mind the noise from the reactions and conversation between the guys, since it did serve as white noise for you to fall asleep to.
but then, suddenly, you feel mark's cold hand cupping your ear. you keep your eyes closed, and you don't move.
mark looks down at you, a small smile plastered on his face. he doesn't want his noisy members to disturb your sleep.
a good year into your relationship and yet, the smallest gestures he does still makes the same set of butterflies from a year ago, flutter about in your stomach.
you'd think this is the sweetest he can be, but mark always surpasses your expectations.
you feel and hear the vibration of his phone, indicating an incoming call. mark looks at the caller id, then looks back at you. he needs to answer the call, so with his free hand, he reaches for your limp arm, gently raising it by your wrist. he removes the hand he had cupped over your ear, and places your own palm over your head. you hear his muffled, "hello?"
you try to hold back a giggle, knowing fully well how red and shy he'd get if he knew you are awake through all of this. he ends the call quickly, and once you hear him say, "okay, bye," your hand is removed and replaced by his hand, once again.
unable to hold yourself back anymore, you open your eyes to see him staring down at you, his loving gaze shifting into a questioning one.
"you're so cute," you tell him, pulling him in for a quick peck.
Summary: Mark made you learn your hardest lesson about being patient.
Genre: smut smut smut (this is pure smut-)
Words: 4k
Warnings: dirty dirty filthy smut, unprotected sex (be safe!), dirty talk, public play, sex tape, car sex, extreme humiliation, exhibitionism, dom/sub theme, slut shaming, degredation, ball gag, oral sex, fingering, mouth stuffing (i don’t even know at this point god forgive me-)
No matter how hard you tried, you always struggled with patience. It’d been your hardest lesson to learn, as you’re always quick to point out. When left to your own devices for too long, it’s like you forget what the word “patience” means.
It’d been a few days since you last saw Mark, and he’s going to pick you up after work. Your body was buzzing with eagerness and anticipation, so to pass the time you take some naughty photos for him. When you texted to ask permission to send them, you didn’t hear back… That’s when you knew you should be patient.
delivered. 2h ago
Hours went by, and for a while, you’re finally able to amuse yourself with the book you’re reading and the shows you liked to watch… but still no response from him. “He’s busy,” you told yourself. “He’ll respond when he can.”
With the sun going down, you spent some time getting ready to see him, making sure you’re properly washed, scented, and ‘decorated’. You took time picking out some lingerie… nude lace with black trim and a tight, short dress Mark hadn’t seen yet but will surely love. Sigh. Now you’re all dressed up and waiting. And still no word from him… You knew you should be patient.
delivered. 7h ago
It’s nearly 9 in the evening by the time he texted back. “Meet me downstairs in 20 minutes.” You told yourself that reading the tone of a text was almost impossible… but you couldn’t shake the strong sense that you’re in a lot of trouble. Dutiful as could be, you’re downstairs in ten minutes just to make sure you would be waiting for him when he arrives, Mark always lives for punctuality. You’re well practiced at ignoring the looks you get when you’re dressed up for him, but you still felt a lot of eyes on you from passersby.
When he pulled up, you felt a moment of relief. But then he opened the door and you saw the stern look on his face. Oh.
Climbing out of the car, he looked you over approvingly and beckoned you to him. You scurried over and lowered your eyes, in an attempt to show him you could behave. He took your chin and lifted your face to his, tsk-ing at you. “Someone had a very impatient day.”
“I’m sorry, Mark...”
“I was in meetings all day, princess. If I’m busy and can’t get back to you, what are you supposed to do?”
“W-wait…”
“And did you wait?”
You wanted to lower your eyes, but his grip on your chin forced you to keep looking at him. “...No, Sir…”
With a heavy sigh, his gaze left yours, but he didn’t release his hold on you. “You know, persistent texting is basically a modern-day form of whining. Which means that while I was off trying to get work done, you spent all day whining at me to pay attention to you. Isn’t that right?”
“Y-yes, Sir, I’m so sorry, I-”
“A simple ‘Yes, Sir’ will do.”
Your voice came out small. “Yes, Sir.”
Adjusting his grip, Mark grabbed your face and squeezed. Leaning in close, he murmured in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I think you need to be reminded of your place, slut. Tonight’s lesson will be all about how to stop whining and keep your mouth shut. Is that understood?”
When he leaned back, you looked up at him, wide-eyed, not sure if that was a test… He smirked and took hold of your lower jaw between his thumb and forefinger. “You may answer, baby.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Now get in the car.”
It’s never a good sign when he ordered you into the car instead of opening the door for you. There would be no gentle instruction tonight. When you climbed into the passenger seat, Mark looked you over again. “Nice dress.”, he praised. “Show me what’s underneath it.”
You started to pull down the straps of your dress, but he corrected you.
“Under the skirt.”
Lifting your skirt, you showed him the delicate lace panties with the bold black trim. He sighed and shook his head, tsk-ing again.
“Those are incredibly sexy. It’s too bad you don’t get to wear them.” And with that, he reached over and yanked them down to your ankles. “Take them off.”, you did as instructed. “Now hand them over.”
Doing as you’re told, you watched Mark examined your panties in a none-too-subtle manner, catching the attention of some pedestrians. With your skirt hiked up around your waist, they likely got quite an eyeful… He smirked, glancing between you and your panties. “Looks like you’ve already wrecked these a little, slut. Always so eager, aren’t you?”
You’re not sure if that’s a hypothetical question, so you stayed silent.
“Aren’t you?”
It drove you crazy with desire when his voice got so commanding. “Yes, Sir…”
Sighing, he laid your panties on the dashboard and turned to you. “You’re doing a decent job of keeping your mouth shut now, but after today’s antics, you clearly need a lesson that will remind you to do so in the future. So, tell me what the point of tonight’s lesson is.”
“To… keep my mouth shut...”
“And?”
“Um… To stop whining.”
“That’s right. Now open your mouth...Wider-”
Reaching over, he shoved your panties in your mouth. Sitting back with a wicked grin, he drank in the sight of you. “Spread your knees, wide. And sit on your hands.”
You’d recently gotten a full brazilian, just the way he liked it, so he’d been taking advantage of your freshly waxed pussy. And now he’s clearly enjoying making you expose yourself- to him and whoever happened to walk by.
Taking his phone, Mark leaned over to make one last adjustment… pulling the straps of your dress and bra down, he let your tits stay covered, but just barely. Then he sat back and took a few photos. You heard the chime that means he’s recording, and did your best to look penitent.
“Are you enjoying your training, slut?”
You nodded, your mouth full of panties.
“Hmm, let’s see…”
Reaching between your legs, he moved his phone in as well, capturing his exploration up close. With his free hand, he spread you open and played with your wetness, making you squirm. “Hold still.”
You did your best to obey while he tormented you.
“You really are loving it… You’re so warm and wet… Not that I’m surprised. A naughty little slut like you can’t get enough of this, can you?”
You shook your head no, but he laughed quietly and pulled the phone back to film all of you. “Answer me.”
You did your best to say “No, Sir…” but through your panties, it‘s muffled completely.
He smiled and pat you between your legs. “That’s a good girl.” Putting away his phone, he reached over and buckled your seatbelt. “I want you to stay just like that, until I tell you otherwise. Understood?”
You nodded and felt your cheeks flush red. This was the first time Mark had driven you around with panties shoved in your mouth. It’s a new level of humiliation that you’re ashamed to realize was only making you wetter.
When he started driving, you tried to reassure yourself that you’ll be on the road, and who looked in other people’s cars? Probably no one would even notice… The very thought must’ve somehow jinxed you because at the first stoplight you came to, he pulled up next to a convertible full of what can only be four frat boys. One of them immediately realized that your top is slipping off, and there’s no disguising a mouth full of panties…
He jostled his friends and they all craned their necks to get a good look at you.
“That was fast,” Mark laughed. “Didn’t think you’d have an audience so soon.”
It took them no time to figure out that your bottom was fully exposed, and they all grabbed their phones for some purposes that everyone knew what it for. However Mark was quick to pull up the car window which was made with some kind of one way glass as the boys yelled at him angrily which he simply replied with a “No photo boys.”
As he pulled away, you realized you’re practically panting in your seat. The exhilaration and embarrassment of that moment nearly put you over the edge. Glancing over at you, Mark’s obviously getting a big kick out of it.
“Did you like that, slut?”
All you can managed in return was a whimper.
—
Pulling into the parking lot of a cozy little restaurant, Mark cut the engine and turned to you, unbuckling your seatbelt. You stayed as you were, exposed and sitting on your hands, with your wrecked panties filling your mouth. He’s always infuriatingly good at taking his time, and you did your best to be patient while he looked you over, so slowly…
“We’re meeting some friends of mine for dinner, so I’ll allow you to speak freely. For the time being. What happens after dinner will depend on how well you behave. Is that clear?”
You nodded again, silent, as you’d not been instructed respond vocally. Reaching over, you assumed he’s going to relieve you of your panties… but you should’ve never assumed anything with Mark.
Instead, he grabbed your waist and pulled you towards him, attacking the base of your neck with his teeth, lips, and tongue. He knew how much you love it when he bit you, and how loudly you usually cried out. You squirmed with the effort to stay quiet, and he tested you further by reaching up to pinch your exposed nipples, one at a time, prolonging the moment with his exquisite torture. When he finally released you and sit back, you’re panting and writhing in your seat. With a small chuckle, he reached out and removed your panties from your mouth, making you drool a little in the process. Shaking his head, he used the fabric to wipe your mouth and chin.
“Such a sloppy little slut…”
Chastised, you hang your head and bit your lip. He took you by the chin and tilted your gaze up to meet his.
“You may speak freely now, sweetheart. And fix your dress. Your naughty girl panties are staying in the car.”
While he put your panties in the glovebox and got out of the car, you hurried to straighten yourself out. By the time Mark opened the door for you, you’d pulled up your dress and bra straps to cover your tits, and slipped the skirt of your dress over your naked ass. Climbing out of the car, you stepped aside, but just when you thought the mess you left on the seat has escaped his notice, you heard his sigh.
“Looks like you have a mess to clean up before dinner, baby. Come here.”
Taking you by the arm, Mark turned you to face the car, and you felt he hiked up your skirt again to expose your pantyless bottom.
“Bend over, and lick it up.”
God. He always knew exactly how to torture you… Following instructions, you’re extra humiliated when he stood back to observe your servility, leaving your naked half on display. With murmurs of approval, he stroked the insides of your thighs while you dutifully licked your juices off the leather seat.
When you finished, Mark slipped his hand between your legs, inserting one… two… three fingers inside you. Gasping, you quickly bit your lip. You’re in a parking lot on a busy street, so moaning loudly wasn’t a great idea. Leaning in, he nibbled your ear and murmured in that crazy sexy voice of his, thrusting his fingers in and out… so… goddamn… slowly…
“While we’re having dinner, I want you to think about this. Remember who this naughty, dripping pussy belongs to…”
Using all your willpower to stay quiet, you nodded and whispered, breathless. “Y-yes, S-sir…”
“Tell me.”
“It b-belongs to you… Mark…”
“Mmm… Good girl.” With one last lick of your earlobe, he released you and took a step back, pulling your skirt down. Still catching your breath, you’re startled by the force of his finger shoved into your mouth. Obediently, you took each of his fingers in turn, licking and sucking your wetness off of them, one by one. When you’d finished, he wiped his hand on your cleavage, leaving a small smear of saliva. A satisfied smirk crossed his face as he took you by the hand and leaded you inside.
Your dinner guests were a dashing friend of Mark from work and his beautiful wife. It wasn’t beyond him to include his/your friends in your discipline, but your delightful meal passed without any such incident.
The closest he came to tormenting you was when you got a little too squirmy in your seat. Having dinner without panties on is its own special form of torment, and your wetness started to get so sloppy, you worried it’s going to trail down your thighs onto the seat. Or soaked through your dress… While you’re trying to adjust yourself to avoid any such embarrassment, Mark reached under the table and squeezed your knee until you hold still. You crossed your legs, but he pulled your knee until they uncross, and tugged your leg towards him to spread your knees open. Sliding his hand up, he stops when he finds the slick of wetness on your upper, inner thigh, and rest his fingers there to stroke and caress your sensitive skin. Having his hand so close to your exposed pussy made it really hard to sit still. But you knew that you’d be punished mercilessly if you gave away what he’s doing.
Your hand fluttered to the nape of your neck in what you hoped was a casual gesture, but it drew the attention of the beautiful guest.
“Oh my goodness, what happened to your neck?”
Confused, your fingers searched for what she’s referring to… And landed on the tender spot where Mark bit you in the car.
“Oh! I, um…” between your punishment in the car, his torment before you came inside, and his hand presently stroking your inner thigh, your brain was mush.
“She overdid it with a yoga strap. Gave herself rope burn.”
Mark smiled at you, your savior. You smiled back and shrugged at the woman. “Sometimes I forget to relax.”
After dessert, his friend took a phone call outside and his wife excused herself to the powder room. Leaning into Mark, you tilted your head up to speak quietly in his ear. “Mark… Can we please go?”
“Feeling antsy, baby?”
Hoping it wouldn’t get you in more trouble, you risked being brazenly honest. “My pussy is aching for you…”
He smirked down at you and caressed your cheek. “She’s going to ache a lot more by the time I’m done with her…”
Back at the car, you’re a little disappointed when he let you in and then simply drove away, without so much as a hand on you or a hint to his plans. The letdown is short-lived though, as it wasn’t long before you’re driving through a rather secluded, hilly neighborhood, with lots of lush foliage and shadowy nooks.
Parking the car in one such shadow, the car mostly hidden by the dangling limbs of a willow tree. Mark’s often quite free with using you in far more public spaces, and this secluded spot makes you wonder what he had in store for you.
“Crawl into the back.”
With barely a glance at you, he started to climb out of the car, but his hand found your ass for a quick, sharp smack as you’re obediently crawling into the backseat.
Making his way to the more concealed side of the car, he opened the back passenger door and beckoned you to him. You quickly slid over and awaited his instruction. “Get on your hands and knees.”
While you did as you’re told, he reached over you and yank your skirt up around your waist, exposing your naked ass and pussy once again. The sight of your bare skin puts you in a mind for several more spankings, on both your cheeks and between your legs. You bit back your impulse to cry out with each blow, turning the sounds you made into tiny whimpers.
Straightening up, he grabbed your face and tilted your eyes up to meet his. “Not bad, baby. Looks like your lesson is starting to sink in.” Running his thumb along your lips, he used it to pry open your mouth and caress your tongue. “Is your naughty little pussy still aching for me?”
“Y-yes, Sir…” With his thumb in your mouth, you lisped over your s’s, drawing out one of his more wicked smirks.
“You’ve been such a good girl, taking your punishment and turning on the charm at dinner… I think you’ve earned a good, hard fucking.”
“Oh, thank you, Sir-”
“But first.” Mark’s stern tone quieted you instantly. “You need one more reminder on how to behave.”
Instinctively, you lowered your lashes. “Yes, Sir…”
“Look at me, baby.”
You looked up and meet his gaze, as humbly as you can.
“If you’re trying to reach me, and I don’t respond, what do you do?”
“I wait…”
“That’s right. And if you feel yourself getting impatient, I want you to remember this moment.”
And with that, he undid his pants and released the hard bulge of his cock. Without warning or pretense, he grabbed the back of your head and shoved his cock into your mouth, thrusting over and over… Jamming the back of your throat with it, he made you gag and sputter and drool.
“See… This is what happens to mouthy, impatient girls…”
Your eyes started to water as he rammed deeper into your throat than you knew possible. Pushing your head against his shaft, he hold you there, your mouth and throat full of the length and width of him.
“Look at me.”
Compliant as ever, you did as he instructed.
“The next time you feel like whining, or pestering me… Remember what it feels like to choke on my cock.” Pulling your hair, he shook your head a little, side to side. “Will you remember, slut?”
You tried to nod, or respond with any sound, and struggled to control your gag reflex. Just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, he yanked your head back by your hair, letting you gasp for air. Your saliva dripped all over his cock, your face, your cleavage… And Mark used his cock to spread it further over your lips and cheeks. As you caught your breath, he smiled down at you. “Let me hear you say it.”
“I… I’ll remember… Sir… I p-promise…”
“You’ll be a good, quiet girl for me?”
“I-I will… I’ll be g-good…”
“Hmm… Let’s make sure of that…”
Thrusting his cock back down your throat, he rammed into your face over and over again…
All told, Mark punished your mouth with his cock three times before he’s satisfied that you’d learned your lesson. The swollen tenderness of your lips and throat were sure to be a compelling reminder, at least for the next few days. And the memory of choking on his cock, gasping for air on your hands and knees, half-naked and exposed in the backseat of his car… Well, that would definitely make you think twice the next time you’re tempted to text him repeatedly.
Mark hadn’t come, you’re still surprised when he told you that it’s time for your naughty pussy to have her treat. It’s been such a night of punishment, you’d almost forgotten you promised a reward for good behavior.
Opening the front passenger door, he reached into the glove box and returned to you with a ball gag. Looked like this would be a reward and punishment combined.
While he fit the ball gag into your mouth and secured the straps, his voice soothed you with a lecture that was both praising and mildly chastising. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson, Y/N, we’re going to practice being quiet. Even though this area is somewhat private, we are outside. So I need you to be as silent as you can while I destroy that naughty pussy… My naughty pussy… And because we both know what a loud, moaning little slut you are, you’re going to need some help. Understood?”
Wide-eyed and already drooling around the gag, you nodded up at him.
“Good. Now turn around.”
Wiggling your way backwards, you turned your body until you’re on all fours with your ass and your pussy laid bare for his use.
Teasing you with his hands, Mark stroked and fondled you until you’re dripping everywhere. Down the insides of your thighs all the way to your knees… The shock of his tongue between your legs made you cry out and buck your hips. With a laugh, he gripped your ass and instructed you to hold still and be quiet. Whimpering, you did as you’re told and panted through the glorious torment of needing to stay silent while he expertly worked you into a frenzy.
It didn’t take long for you to come. As soon as you did, he shoved your face and shoulders down onto the seat, leaving your ass up in the air and your pussy spread wide for his assault. The feel of Mark’s cock slamming into you was what you’d been craving all day, and you quickly came again.
He took full advantage of your longing, making you writhe and twisted against him. Once or twice he pulled out, just to enjoy the sight of your pussy following his cock, desperate to have him back inside you. And each time he honored you with that gift, he filled you up until you’d lost count of your orgasms.
When Mark came, he left the mess all over your ass and your back, marking his territory. Collapsing on top of you, he gently removed the ball gag and chuckled at the mess of saliva on the seat of his car. As he treated your sore face to kisses and nips, he sighed and told you, “You were very quiet, my good girl. But, sloppy as ever, you made quite a mess.”
Leaving you in the back, Mark closed the backdoor, walked around to climb into the driver’s seat, and retrieved your panties from the glovebox. Turning back to you, he demanded you to take off your dress. Obeying at once, you’re left in nothing but your bra and heels.
“Now kneel on the floor.”
The space was a little cramped, but you did your best to follow his orders. Then Mark handed you your panties, and referes to the smearing of drool you left on the backseat. “Clean it up.”
There wasn’t a lot to work with, your panties being rather flimsy… But you of course followed his command and mopped up as much of the mess as you could. When you turned to him for approval, you see that he’s filming you with his phone. You lowered your eyes and sat back on your heels.
“Did I do a good job?”
“That will do for now. You can wash it more thoroughly tomorrow. And if you’re lucky I’ll let you keep some clothes on.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Stopping the video, Mark tucked his phone away and smiled at you. “Put your panties back on.”
Biting your lip, you wriggled into your sopping panties. With the saliva on your face and cleavage, his cum on your ass and back, and now wearing the wettest panties ever, you’re a complete mess. With his most wicked smirk yet, he looked you over approvingly.
“Now crawl up here and put your seatbelt on. Leave your dress in the back.”
Submitting to his will was a thrill in and of itself, and you’re doubly aroused by knowing how much he enjoyed the sight of you in such a state.
It’s hard to believe that after all his treats and torments you could still be craving more, but as you bended over, slid forward, and unfold your used body into the seat next to him, the look on Mark’s face made you start to tingle and throbbed all over again.
“Maybe, if I’m a good girl, you’ll let me serve and please you more when we get home… “
