#lee mark imagines

[ronjunnie]

MARK FIC RECOMMENDATIONS

SERIES

arcane @neonacity

case oasis @neonc1tylights

ONESHOTS

launch (25k) @xiaodejunletsact

would you be so kind? (17k) @sehunniepotwrites

Perils Brewing (m) (16.9k) @jenonctcity

mark lee's gluttony (13.5k) @misfitneo

the hopeless romantic (12.8k) @simpsiren

seasons (7.9k) @jaeminlore

back to sleep (730) @dreamcity-rawr

TIMESTAMPS

10:12 pm @daydreamingyuta

20:20 pm @mins-fins

[sweetiechenle]

would you film my s*x tape? ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ haechan

pairing: non-idol!collegestudent!haechan x collegestudent!afab!reader

summary: you and your best friend haechan are strapped for cash and desperate to make some... quick. thank god he has the best idea ever to make a sex tape!

warnings: mdni 18+ only, smut, masturbation, swearing, marking, porn with plot, face fucking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (don't do this), dirty talk, oral (receiving and giving) fingering, manhandling, praise, creampie, pet names, fluff, crack/humor, this is so unserious, you are all freaks in this

you thought the line was crossed after the internet bill cost more than an arm and a leg or when the water was shut off because of an overdue bill, but this was probably the worst thing that could’ve happened. all you wanted to do was take a nice long hot shower, you stripped off your pajamas and climbed into the tub. turning on the water you jumped back and let out a small scream, scrambling to turn off the water, you let out small cries as the ice-cold water continued to pelt your back. finally shutting off the shower, you shivered, stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body, holding it close.

leaving the bathroom, you march down the hallway, finding your best friend and roommate, haechan, on the couch. he looked up from his phone when you stopped in front of him with your arms crossed.

he smirked, ‘not sure what i did to deserve this’

rolling your eyes and huffing, ‘did you pay the gas bill? The water was freezing!!’

haechan quickly stood up, ‘i thought you did!’

‘no it was your turn this month!’ you cried.

he fell back on the couch, letting his body slump in the cushions, ‘fuck’

you sighed, moving to sit down next to him. ‘im so fucking tired of being broke, dude’

‘yeah, you’re preaching to the choir’ you replied with a lifeless laugh.

‘our jobs fucking suck, our pay fucking sucks, these prices fucking suck. we have tried everything and now what else is there to do? ask chenle for money!? yeah fucking right, i’m not owing that little shit anything’ he vented.

you sighed standing up, ‘i don’t really know what else to do either, we are too busy to take on a second job, we tried delivering food and driving others around, but it’s never enough’ you agreed with him.

he grabbed your hand when you stood up, you looked down, ‘don’t worry, i’ll think of something’ you nodded, seeing the sincerity swirl in his chocolate brown eyes you nodded.

later that evening haechan, and you sat down for dinner in front of the tv watching whatever you could pay attention to, pushing your money problems to the back of your mind. you placed your empty bowl on the small table in front of you, ‘i’m not doing the dishes with the water being this cold’ you smiled. haechan laughed and grabbed your bowl, taking it to the sink to do the dishes himself, you followed him into the small kitchen. you stood and stared at his back, his shoulders now much broader than the boy you first met ten years ago, his slender fingers moving around the bowl as he scrubbed the food off, he turned back at you and it was so hard not to notice his plush, pink lips that moved into a small smile every time he saw you, and it always made your heartbeat skip. it was so hard to decide if you wanted to be him or be with him.

‘i thought of an idea’ he said nonchalantly, glancing back at you to see your reaction.

‘oh god’ you laughed, nervously you asked, ‘should i be scared?’

‘probably?’ haechan answered, finishing up the two dishes and facing you in the kitchen now.

he ran his hand through his chestnut-colored hair, his hands flying everywhere as he started to explain his thought process behind this ‘genius idea’.

‘we should…’ he paused, and you quirked your eyebrow up, ‘make a sex tape!’

you snorted and double up laughing, ‘you’re fucking insane’ to continue the theatrics you pretended to whip non-existent tears.

‘no, okay, listen… it’s a crazy idea, but think of all the money we could make’ he sighed, now growing embarrassed due to the idea he was so confident in before. his cheeks grew red, scratching the back of his neck, ‘as we said earlier, we tried everything, but not this’

‘fuck’ you breathed, he was serious, mind going a million miles a second trying to come up with anything better, ‘they make so much money on only fans and stuff i fear you might be right’ it’s not like you didn't want to have sex with your best friend and roommate, you always thought he was attractive and had a body you dreamed to have in your bed. of course you would never tell him that to his face, his ego would get too big you'd have to move out. being best friends since middle school had its perks, each other's first kiss, each other's first small sexual experience at the end of high school, something you both agreed to never speak of after it had happened. so, you figured with something like this it would be something similar, you would make a couple of sex tapes, post them, and then rake in the cash and never speak of it ever again. however you didn't want something this extreme to change any aspect of your relationship with haechan, yes you were attracted to him and he was your favorite person but you liked where your relationship was at right now.

he pumped his fists up in the air, whooping as you finally agreed that one of his plans was feasible. ‘i know! i think it's probably one of the best ideas i’ve ever had’ he said proudly. ‘i can borrow one of jaemins nice cameras to film, we have to research what could make us the most money too’ he noted.

you nodded, ‘we should lay down some ground rules too, i don’t want to just jump into this and both do something we regret’

he turned to you, acting genuinely confused, ‘what would we regret?’ you inhaled his cologne as he moved in closer to you.

you looked up at him as he caged you between him and the kitchen table, you shuddered as your lower back made contact with the cold surface. you looked down now too nervous to look into his eyes that stared down at you, ‘i-i don’t know haechan, i just don’t want anything between us to change’ you said now feeling small even though your heart was jumping for joy.

‘you don’t? that’s a shame’ he clicked his tongue in disappointment, his voice low. not knowing what to say, you gulped waiting for him to continue, ‘when it comes to you, i don’t think there’s anything i could regret sweetheart’

oh, damn him, if you weren't supported by the table your knees would've already given out and you would've sucked his dick right then and there. what he said lit your body on fire but the subtle pet name went right to your core, shamefully feeling your panties growing wetter. he always played these games when he wanted something, using cute pet names and pleading in a cute way where anyone would say yes, but this time seemed different. hearing the sincerity in his voice made the situation feel all too real, you couldn't believe this was real.

‘wha-’ you gazed up at him through your eyelashes, ready to ask for further explanation but he stopped you, placing his finger over your open mouth.

‘do you trust me?’ he whispered.

all you could do was nod at him, while your best friend was playful and mischievous, you knew he could also be serious and forthright. it makes you think back to the time when mark wouldn't let haechan drive his car ever, saying he would never in a million years trust him. on the other hand when there was ever tension between his friend group he would be the one to go out of his way and get everyone all together again and diffuse any tensity. there were some things most people wouldn't trust haechan on but if he said you two could climb mount everest, you'd meet him at the spot.

‘good’ he replied, ‘get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow’ he smirked and stalked away from you, hearing his bedroom door shut you let out a long breath. the air around you seemed too thin and you took that as your cue to also head to your room. you got ready for bed, climbed into your sheet and turned off your lamp, falling back into the mattress you stared up at the ceiling mind blanking and trying to process everything that happened an hour ago. you turned and grabbed your phone, wincing as the light burned your eyes. opening up the search engine you turned on incognito because there was no way this was ever going into your search history. typing in ‘popular porn categories’ you nervously waited as the page loaded. ‘seriously?’ you said to yourself as you read the words ‘milf’ and ‘lesbian’, so those were off the table. continuing to scroll you made mental notes of everything that could get you clicks, words like ‘creampie’ and ‘anal’, some things you weren't against, but stuff that seemed pretty straightforward.

you put down your phone and sighed, bored and unable to sleep. so, doing what most girls do when they are bored and in bed: masturbate. you slide your hand down your body, stopping just above the waistband of your pink sleep shorts. automatically thinking of haechan and imagining it was his hands sliding into your panties. soon, you reminded yourself. you finally reached the sweet spot, you tried your best to suppress your moans as your fingers worked in circles around your clit, occasionally taking your fingers down to dip in between your folds and pump them in and out, closing your eyes and making up a picture of haechan in your head on him above you, wishing it was his cock being driven inside of you. biting down on your bottom lip as your hips lurched forward due to the friction, you let out a small cry as you came all over your fingers, ending it by rubbing the stickiness over your worn-out pussy.

you cursed silently, getting up and going to the bathroom to clean yourself. after you gave yourself a well-deserved whores bath you got a clean pair of undies and slipped back into bed, now tired enough to go to sleep.

you wake up to a sunny saturday morning, stretching your limbs out you get out of bed and grab your phone, heading to the kitchen for what little breakfast you can have. you and haechan were never big money makers, at least not yet. you had a job doing entry graphic design for a yearbook company, paid like shit, but at least you were working towards something while going to school. haechan was majoring in software engineering but couldn't find any companies willing to hire someone without a degree, he seemed to always miss the chance to apply for internships so he was stuck at his job of being a mystery shopper, which also didn't pay that well. so, you both lived paycheck to paycheck and scraped what little you could to do things with friends and go out, haechan always telling you to go bat your eyes and act cute with every man in clubs so you both could get free drinks.

you opened the pantry and opted for the generic-branded cereal, hoping to every god in existence there was some milk in the fridge, you slowly opened it and silently cheered when there was a bit left. having all the ingredients you made up your bowl of cereal, sat down in the creaky kitchen chair and dug in. looking around you noticed haechan wasn't home, his shoes were gone along with his house keys, he never mentioned going anywhere so you opened your phone and checked on ‘find my friends’. you zoomed in on his little contact picture that was set years ago and obviously the perfectly, most embarrassing picture. he was at jaemins, for some reason unbeknownst to you. you continued to eat and scroll through whatever social media app could hold your attention. after breakfast, you cleaned your bowl (despite the cold water) and sat on the couch to pass the time until haechan came home.

you heard the door swing open, immediately standing up you walked without even thinking up to haechan. he gave you an inquisitive look as to why you came upon him so suddenly. then you noticed the camcorder in his hand… jaemins camcorder, oh.

‘i didn't know you left this morning’ you explained.

‘i was at jaemins’ i know you wanted to say, ‘i was getting this.’ he gestured to the video camera in his hand, taking off his shoes and throwing his keys onto the table.

you were rooted in place as you watched him move around the apartment nonchalantly, ‘did you tell him what it was for?’ you asked restlessly. scared that he confided in jaemin of your little plan to make more money, if he did, you could probably never look into the poor man's eyes ever again.

‘oh god no, i told him it was for a project you were working on but couldn't come to get it yourself’ haechan answered and that consoled your worried mind. ‘he expects it back by thursday’ he winked at you, and closed the door to his room, leaving you a loss for words at the front door.

you went back to your room, confused as to why haechan didn't bring up anything about the sex tape(scapades), like he knew nothing about it while it was his idea in the first place. he was probably nervous and getting ready, didn't want to ruin the mood or overthink any decisions that were already put into place from last night. you decided to lay in bed and watch videos and play on your phone to pass the time. after a while of shifting around in bed and switching between the same ten apps, you didn't realize the time when haechan softly knocked on your door, saying that dinner was ready.

you got up and opened your door, surprised by the setup he put together, there was a white sheet over the coffee table in front of the tv with multiple candles lit (needed them for when your electricity got shut off), there were wine glasses included a plate of food that looked absolutely delicious. ‘wow, haechan you really outdone yourself’ haechan was romantic when he wanted to be, asking gift and flower suggestions for whatever girl he decided to get involved with during that time. it always stung a bit, but you could never turn him away as a best friend.

‘anything for my favorite girl’ he smiled, and led you to the couch, taking your hand as you sat down. you blushed at his comment, almost feeling like this was a real date at a real fancy restaurant. but of course reality is that you are eating spaghetti on a couch in pajamas before getting absolutely railed by your best friend. you almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of it all. he poured some wine into your glass, and turned towards the tv to put on your favorite movie. it was all really sweet and made your heart swell with adoration for the boy next to you. even with the cards he was dealt in the situation he exceeded expectations and went out of his way to make everything special for you. you dug into your food and took a sip of wine, ‘ugh’ you gagged, ‘this is the cheap shit’ you both laughed at the reaction and he gave you a of course it is look.

‘don’t worry, when we are raking in the cash, i’ll get you the good stuff, and take you on a real, proper first date’ he smiled sheepishly, not confident in his words, worried you'd object to his obvious advances.

it was almost impossible to keep your heart from jumping out of your throat at his words, not believing what you just heard. you coughed, thinking of a way to get back at him, ‘i will be looking forward to that’. he beamed, giving you a toothy smile, your insides twisted, he was too cute for his own good, taking everything in you not to devour him whole right there. you swallowed your spit and turned back towards your food, finishing it off within a couple of bites.

haechan got up and took your plate to the sink, not bothering to clean them. he walked up to you and took your hands in his, looking down at the connection. wondering if he could feel how hot you were, haechan was always a touchy person and cuddled with you more times than you could count. but those times didn't make you feel this way, you knew tonight was different. ‘go get ready,’ he walked you to your bedroom door, dropping your hands he went to his door, ‘the video camera is all charged up’ he went inside and with that you scrambled around your room, thinking of what ‘get ready’ could mean. it was his job to prep you right? pacing around the room reality sunk in and you knew what to do. now going through your small closet, trying to find the only piece of lingerie you had. a gift from a past boyfriend, probably worth more than what you wanted to know.

‘ah-ha!’ you pulled it out of the pile of clothes that remained on the floor, it was somewhat misshapen from being at the bottom of the wreckage but salvageable. it was a red teddy with lace and a thong that hugged your curves perfectly. it was comfortable and sexy while also leaving some stuff up to the imagination, you knew haechan would love it. mentally thanking yourself for shaving everything before the gas got turned off, you slipped it on and checked yourself in the mirror, twisting and turning admiring the way it snatched your waist perfectly. you moved to your small vanity and put on light makeup, with plenty of mascara, knowing it would be picture-perfect to let the camera witness as it flows down your cheeks knowing you'd probably end up crying in pleasure soon. you threw on your robe and peeked outside of the door, haechan was nowhere to be seen but you were ready, hyping yourself up there was no backing out now.

you moved towards his door, softly knocking and waiting for him, clit quivering in anticipation. you pictured all the ways he'd have you tonight, silently hoping this would take off and you'd have no choice but to make more videos to appease the viewers that didn't even exist yet. haechan opened the door, he opened his mouth to say something, but closed it quickly. ‘you look beautiful, doll’ he breathed, like he was a tiger, and you were the prey, he took his time taking in your appearance.

you blushed, ‘you look gorgeous too’ he was in a tight-fitted black shirt along with those famous gray sweatpants, and you could barely control yourself. he looked like a god, his brown hair now dark, the light only coming from his room. his features were highlighted under the warm glow, his eyes growing dark in hunger, his nose perfectly sculpted and you were ready to beg him to let you sit on his face, needless to say, he was absolutely divine.

he opened his door wider, ‘shall we start?’ his eyebrow up in question. you nodded walking into his room, entrapped in his space and musk, you could get lost in the space forever. he grabbed your hands like before, ‘do you trust me?’ he was sincere, and you nodded, ‘because everything is about to change’

you nodded, whispering, ‘i can't wait’ you looked up at him, silently pleading for him to do anything at all. he leaned into you, noticing how his eyes kept moving from your eyes to your mouth, bracing yourself and closing your eyes, his breath was on your cheek.

‘the camera is rolling baby’ and with that he graced his lips with yours, moving to a rhythm you both fell into immediately. you could feel the sparks fly as your heart soared, his lips fitting perfectly into yours, soft but also rugged with the way he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer. your body now flush with his, shrugged off your robe you let it fall to the ground, haechan stopped his movements and took a step back. breathing hard and looking over your body in a very new way, staring at him feeling like daniel being thrown into the lion's den, chest heaving up and down you whined due to the surprising lack of contact. ‘fuck, you are so fucking hot baby’ he moaned, going back to the position you were both in. you gave him a coy smile, ‘did you wear this just for me? do you know how crazy i get when you walk around the apartment looking like a total slut? now here you are, in something that barely covers anything’ he grabbed the strap over your shoulder, pulled it back with his finger, and let it slap back on your skin. you sucked in a breath, feeling the slick pool into the thread, on your thighs. ‘not sure what i did to deserve this baby’ he ghosted his hands over your body, grabbing onto your lace-covered tit. you moaned at the contact, his lips now on yours again, moving much rougher and more hungry and teeth clashed together and tongues dancing in dominance. haechan picked you up, lips never leaving yours until he threw you on the bed, landing with a thump, going limp you grabbed the sheets in anticipation, watching as he threw off his shirt and pants. your mouth dropped, ready to take him right now if he wanted. his defined body shone with sweat, abs glistening, eyes finding his happy trail and erection confined in his briefs your mouth watered at the sight. you figured he was blessed with a good length, but now you were wondering if it would even fit.

taking the situation into your own hands, getting on all fours you crawl to him at the end of the bed. ‘haechan, please let me suck your cock’ you begged, yearning for nothing else but to feel his fat and heavy member choke you. he said nothing, acting unimpressed like your pleads didn't meet his expectations. whimpering in desperation, ‘i can show you what you deserve my pretty boy, please use my mouth’ he groaned at the pet name, stroking his length. he took a step in front of you, face now in front of his thick cock.

‘lay on your back’ he ordered, obliging immediately, he grabbed you and brought you towards him, head now hanging slightly off the bed. you watched him upside down stripping himself of his briefs and letting his member free, it slapped against his toned stomach, never taking his eyes off of you as he spit in his palm and pumped his erection. he had such a pretty cock, and your core burned at the beautiful sight in front of you. thighs instinctively rubbing together to create some friction. ‘open up’ mouth falling open he teased the tip on your lips. he pushed his length into your mouth, trying to adjust quickly, haechan started trusting at a small pace, letting you get used to the feeling. haechan shudders at the hot feeling, groaning as you gag on his cock. drool piled up and spilled out of your mouth and all over heachan, he trusted faster losing his mind over the noises you continued to make. you grabbed the sheets under you until your knuckles went white, mind spinning from the position as your best friend fucked your mouth with full force. he grabbed your boob under the lingerie and pinched your nipple making you shiver and cry around his length. he pulled out and you coughed and whipped the spit from your face. moving back into an upright position, collecting yourself, and watching as haechan went to grab the camcorder that sat on his desk. he brought it to your face, ‘did you enjoy sucking my dick?’ he asked.

‘yes’ you breathed, ‘your cock is so pretty and big’ staring into the camera lens, haechan watched you through the screen, his dick jumped in excitement at the lewd scene in front of him. his hand reached behind your head, you accepted it melting into his touch. grabbing your hand he pushed your lips back to his pulsing member, head red with anger and ready to let go. instinctively opening, he pushes it back into your mouth, raggedly pushing the back of your head down his length until your nose touches his pelvis. gagging and slurping up your spit as best as you could, it dribbles down your chin as you moan around him, making him groan at the vibration. as glassy eyes stared into the camera, the camcorder picked up the whimpered sounds as hot, wet tears glided down your cheeks. after a couple of last thrusts haechan lets go of your hair, pushing you off of him, and moves back, ‘give me a show baby, take it off’ you oblige and start with the straps, trying to make it as sexy as possible for the camera. you smile innocently, as you free your tits, moving your hand to play with it, before lifting your lower body to strip yourself naked.

haechan moans, as you toss the garment to the floor, staring up at him he cages you in, climbing on top of you and kissing your neck, violently sucking on the skin and lightly biting, ‘im going to leave so many bruises, so everyone knows you're mine’ he whispered against your sensitive skin. you mewled at his words, the thought of being his. ‘please,’ you gasped through rugged breaths, ‘make me yours’ he placed his knees between your thighs, feeling your wetness as it pooled onto the sheets and him. your hips buckled forward, trying to get some sort of pressure onto your sopping cunt. he continued moving downward, the camcording moving with him, letting it see what he did. he kissed over your boobs, giving them little kitten licks as you moaned at the contact.

finally reaching your entrance, he motioned for you to take the camera and film him, which you did with shaking hands. now pointed at him, he stared into the lens, as you watched him through the screen he delved in, giving your lips small licks which turned into harsh lapping sounds as he abused your clit. he never looked away from the camera, the eye contact making you moan as it felt so intimate, yet so dirty. this really was the best idea he ever had. you hissed as his finger slid into your entrance, so hot and warm, you distinctively moved your hips towards his hand, wanting more. he added another finger, stretching you in preparation, ‘fuck, you are so tight’ he observed, pumping his fingers in and out of you. the coil in your stomach tightened and the air around you felt so heavy, you knew the band was about to snap. shuddering, your eyes and head rolling back ‘i think i’m gonna cum chan’ you whimpered. but, he stopped and his fingers exited your hole with a squelching sound, crying at the loss of contact your head moved back towards his, shooting daggers.

‘i want you to cum on my cock beautiful. watch you fall apart as i fuck you stupid’ he confessed, grabbing the camera from you. now turned back towards you, you gulped, body buzzing and hot at his nasty words. he grabbed your ankles, forcing you closer to him. haechan pushed your legs against your chest, giving him perfect access to your swollen lips. he casts the camcorder downward, ready for the money shot. lining up his tip with your entrance, he pushes in, causing you both to gasp and sigh at the contact. finally bottoming out, his hips reach your thighs, giving you a minute to adjust he started to thrust lightly, making you keen at the feeling of being so full, that, and the wet sounds of your bodies, almost made haechan cum right there on the spot. ‘fuck, you feel so tight baby, you don't know how long i’ve waited for this’ he whimpered, trying to keep himself composed. moaning at his confession you grabbed his arm and brought him down suddenly to kiss you. now in a missionary-esque position, haechan sat the camcorder down on the bed to face you both, sloppy kisses were exchanged, and you both gasped into each other mouths when haechan went deep and hit your sweet spot. moving up to his knees, and grabbing the camcorder, he pulls his hips down harder, drilling into your weeping cunt. you grunted growing incoherent as you babbled about how his dick was so big and for him to keep going, ‘you take me so well pretty girl’ he groaned, zooming in on your fucked out expression, ‘it’s like you were made for me, you're mine baby, all mine’ he breathed, his rhyme becoming sloppy and harder, faster.

you could feel fire start to poll in your lower abdomen, sinking your nails into haechans forearm as he moved circles in your burning clit with his free hand. ‘cum with me baby please’ he begged, ready to release inside of your warm pussy. you tensed feeling the lightning strike as you felt the earth stutter on its axis. groaning loudly, you finally let go, waves of pleasure coarse over your body, walls convulsing griping haechan like a vice. he whimpered above you, stilling his hips as he coated your insides white, curses flew out of his mouth as he made small trusts, loving the feeling of overstimulation. your thighs vibrated and jerked, letting your orgasm die down, haechan pulled out slowly, making you both hiss. he sighed contently, getting up and heading to the bathroom and coming back with a washcloth. he videotaped as his sticky substance dripped from your hole, cleaning you up thoroughly as he continued to zoom in.

‘well… that's a wrap’ he said cheekily and turned off the camera, placing it on his bedside table. you laughed at the comment, moving closer to him as he climbed into bed beside you. heart floating as he pulled you closer, bringing your head to rest on his chest. ‘i think that would win at fucking sundance’ he whispered, making you snort and playfully hit his chest. you both sat in comfortable silence, his fingers ghosting your back, moving up and down.

‘did you mean it? what you said?’ you asked, feeling small in his embrace.

‘what part?’ he ventured, grabbing hold of your shoulder.

‘when you said you had been waiting for this moment, was that real or just for the tape?’ you felt stupid needing clarification. you both had decided to make it overzealous so it would do numbers, he wouldn't think twice to say any of that stuff when money was on the line, or maybe he had meant it and in the heat of the moment confused about what you were also thinking.

‘of course i meant it love, if you can't tell, i’ve been in love with you for a while’ he confessed.

you gasped, head lifting off of his chest to gaze up at him, eyes shown in full sincerity, he went on ‘there's no one else who understands me as you do, you continue to put up with my shit, you're honest when i need it most, but you also support me in everything i do. you spent a week trying to find any companies that would take me on, going as far as to call continually when i never asked you to in the first place’

you groan remembering the hiring manager that had said ‘his resume wasn't good enough’ to which you gave them an earful telling them they would be stupid not to accept him. ‘you laugh at my stupid jokes and you always let me win in league, you are effortlessly beautiful without even trying, even after you have woken up after 15 hours of sleeping, seeing your face walk out of your bedroom door is the best feeling, i get so excited when you come home from work, like i’m a dog waiting for its owner’ you cry as you both sit up, holding each other.

‘haechan… i don't-… you’re my best friend, the person who knows me better than i know myself,’ he wipes small tears pricking from the corners of your eyes, just as they are about to fall ‘you always know when i’m down, you help me with tasks whenever i get frustrated and you never complain, you are my rock and i know i can always rely on you for anything, you’re my home.’ you finished your turn of the confession with a simple, ‘i love you too’

haechan gives you a small kiss, ‘no more crying, we should rest’ moving to turn off the lamp next to him, he puts you in an embrace and lays you down back in your previous position, kissing your hair you let your eyes flutter shut. ‘what if i told you i was a secret billionaire?’ he mumbled.

you squirmed, pretending to be annoyed at his antics, he gripped tighter, trapping you in his warmth, whining ‘please, go to fucking sleep’ you grumbled, finally settling down after a long day of shooting.

you stirred awake as the sunlight from the window hit your eyes, blinking you stretched and sat up, groaning as every muscle seemed to ache after last night. ‘good morning girlfriend’ haechan sang, walking into his room holding a plate of food for you.

‘girlfriend?’ you questioned, grabbing the fake porcelain from him.

he shook his head from side to side ‘mmm well we’re married in my head already, so that’s we can go with for now’

you sighed and nodded, smiling, ‘okay boyfriend, whatever you say’ picking up the bagel you got ready to take a bite when haechan gave you a nervous smile without saying anything, still standing in front of you ‘... what's wrong?’

‘don’t get mad, but hypothetically, what if i told you i forgot to hit record last night’ he cast his eyes downward, obviously trying to hold in a laugh.

you groaned, knowing he was still messing with you, ‘i saw the red light on the camera stupid, you can’t fool me.’ he looked up hearing the crunch from the toasted donut, happily eating away. ‘now come here and massage my back’ he immediately obliged, coming behind you to rub your pain away. ‘and make sure to delete everything before giving the camera to jaemin. please.’

haechan stopped, ‘but he said he wanted to see!!’

you turned around ready to grab him by the neck and not in a good way, ‘HAECHAN’. all he could do was laugh and hug you as tight as he could, never wanting to let go.

‘holy shit babe, come here and look at this’ haechan called from the kitchen, you came buzzing in, eager to see what he had to show you.

‘what is it?’ you mused, glancing down at his phone as he handed it to you.

you gasped, seeing the number of money your videos have made over the past couple of months, ‘that's enough to pay for four months of rent!!’ after a couple of months and making more videos, you started posting them to a private channel online and promoting them in various placing, thus helping you both reach pretty decent number for amateur porn. you even moved into his bedroom and turned your old one into a perfect little studio. 

‘i know!!’ he got up from the table and hugged you in celebration, ‘and we owe it all to our first subscriber and top donator… maybe we can ask him to film for us some time’

you dropped your arms and grimaced, ‘jaemin’

it really was the best idea he ever had, and you love him for it.

[hausofwoo]

graphic | mark lee

pairing: mark lee x afab reader

word count: 6.6K

summary: stuck in the monotony of your job at the mall, every day feels the same: opening the store, sitting behind the register, and counting the hours til close. you've even memorized the routines of the stores around you. but when a new guy starts at the comic book store across the way, you realize your predictable days may soon change.

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, comic book store employee!mark, retail employee!reader, really cute and fluffy until it's not, public sex (public space but no one is there), unprotected piv (DONT DO THIS), mark throws u around like a lil play thing, oral (fem recieving), fingering, use of a petname (baby), lmk if i forgot anything!

author's note: this one took forever yall i know its been a while! been going thru some shit irl but things are settling and i was deadset on finishing this bc it's so cute :'-) thank u to T and @hausofmingi for being my beta readers ( ˘ ³˘)♡

working at a mall can be really tiring, but it’s not so bad when you have a crush.

you’ve been working at a retail store at your local mall for a few months now. it’s boring, there’s too many people on the weekends, and you have the worst hours. you found yourself working open to close for far too many shifts. but at the end of the day, at least it keeps the bills paid.

on slow days during the week, you’re always sat at the register, scrolling through your phone or twiddling your thumbs, counting down the seconds til closing time. sometimes you would even stare off into space, watching people pass by all day long.

you went to work always knowing exactly how the day would go; set up shop, maybe help some customers, and do fucking nothing for 8 to 10 hours. maybe a wave to the employees at the stores surrounding you, but sadly, that was usually the most interesting part of your day. you became accustomed to the monotony though, watching the same employees open up their shops next to yours.

the store directly across from yours is a comic book store. you know the few people that worked there, usually just saying “good morning” and going on with your day. you swear, you have this store memorized, knowing when the employees take their breaks, who’s working, what they’re working on that day. you didn’t really mean to, but when all you have to do is daydream, you kinda picked up on the routine there.

so when you arrive in the morning for yet another brutal open-to-close shift, you expect to just roll up the security shutters and sit back at the register all day. but there’s something different today; or rather, someone different.

sitting at the register at the comic book store is a man you’ve never seen before. his hair is perfectly messy and his glasses framed his eyes, which are focused on reading a comic. he’s working all by himself, which is surprising to you since you’re certain he’s new. you catch yourself staring and try to brush it off. he’s a new guy, so what?

you try your best to go about your day as normal, but you can’t help stealing glances over at the man at the store across from you. he has a captivating energy, and it makes you want to know more about him. he seems charismatic, being friendly with customers and earning smiles, then resuming his doodling once they leave. you notice that when he looks really focused, he bites the corner of his lip gently.

you gotta stop staring, or he will definitely notice. you decide to actually work on something for once, organizing the stock and straightening the shelves. soon enough, closing time creeps up on you. you do all of your closing duties and grab your things from the back. you close the security shutters, looking behind you quickly to see that the man is doing the same. he notices your gaze, so you kindly wave at him. instead of a wave back, blush forms on his face with a shy smile. and with that, he walks away.

the interaction was unreadable. he seemed to be so extroverted with customers, having no issue having casual conversations with them. why is he getting all shy now?

you started to pick up on the new routine at the comic book store. from what you could tell, the man worked similar hours to you, often opening and closing too. he rarely worked with anyone else, so the majority of the time you glanced over, he was reading comics, manga, or doodling in his notepad.

you never really got into comic books like that, and only dabbled with reading manga, but the growing interest in this man made you curious about learning more on what he was reading. maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out the selection? perhaps get some recommendations? you just finished a short shift today so now was the perfect opportunity.

after grabbing your things and saying goodbye to your coworker, you make your way over to the comic book store. you approach the man, who’s sitting at the register as usual, reading. you see his name tag on his chest; a cute red pin with a spider-man drawing next to his name, “mark.”

“hi,” you say, pulling his attention away from reading.

“oh, hi,” he says, placing his comic down. “sorry, i didn’t see you come in.”

“it’s okay,” you reply, looking around at the goodies at the register. “i was wondering if you have any recommendations for a beginner at reading comics?”

“oh for sure,” he says, eyes lighting up. “marvel has tons of great ones. you could start with an ironman one, or maybe captain america? i personally like spider-man, but i’m definitely biased.”

“i’ll try spider-man,” you say after a beat.

mark gives you a nod with a warm smile before leaving the register to grab your comic. he searches through the spider-man section until he finds the first issue. he returns to the register, ringing you up.

“i think you’ll like it, it’s really good,” mark says, handing your receipt to you.

“i’m definitely looking forward to see what all the hype is about,” you chuckle. the conversation pauses for moment, clearly indicating that the interaction is pretty much over with. but you don’t want the conversation to end there, so you find something to keep talking about. “you’re new here, aren’t you? like you just started working here?”

“yeah, sort of,” he says, sitting back in his seat at the register. “i used to work here a while ago and i just came back ‘cause they needed someone.”

“oh nice,” you reply. “welcome back i guess?”

“haha, i guess,” he smiles, rubbing his hand on his neck. “it’s chill here, but it gets kinda boring.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle. “it’s so slow during the week. i usually have nothing to do.”

“yeah, i just read or draw to pass the time,” mark says, pointing at his notepad on the counter.

“you like to draw?” you ask, curious.

“yeah,” he places a hand on the notepad, grabbing it. you can tell he’s getting shy again. “it’s just doodles.”

“you’ll have to show me some of those ‘doodles’ sometime,” you say with a sweet smile. you check your phone for the time. it’s getting closer to dinnertime and you’re starved. “i guess i’ll get out of here.”

“okay,” he stands again. “well, let me know what you think of the comic.”

“i will,” you say, turning to leave, then flipping back to look at him. “mark, right?”

he nods, asking for your name as well. he beams at you. “it’s nice to meet you. see you tomorrow?”

“see you tomorrow,” you say with a wave, walking out.

for the next week, you find yourself aching to talk to mark again. you read the comic he gave you, and it provided a little bit of insight into him… that he’s a bit of a nerd. definitely not a bad thing. it’s actually really endearing to you, knowing his life basically revolves around superheroes, free time and work alike. that he probably draws little comics in his notepad, and has sweet dreams about being superhuman. why is that so fucking cute?

you have a reason to talk to him again, of course: the next issue of spider-man. the problem is building up the courage again, which is ridiculous because he’s just a guy. a nerdy one at that, and you know that he would be putty in your hands if you really wanted him to be. but the longing you developed for him during those long hours of your shift, seeing him across the way, looking so cute in his round glasses… it’s making you nervous in a way that is difficult to explain.

you’ve been putting off going back to his store at this point. wouldn’t someone that wanted to get into superhero comics come back for the next edition? why aren’t you using your excuse to talk to him? not only that, but he even said he wanted you to come tell him what you thought of the comic. you’re just overthinking things.

you have another short shift one day, and decide today is the day. you gather your things and walk to the neighboring store, feeling the familiar butterflies you felt the first time you approached mark at the register. he’s drawing this time, crouched down and focused. he hears you walk in, lifting his head to meet your eyes. maybe you’re crazy, but it looks like his eyes light up.

“hey,” he says, closing the notepad in front of him. you present the spider-man comic to him, and he flashes a smile at you. “what’d you think?”

you chuckle, holding the comic close to your chest. “it was good, but too short. there’s another issue, right?” you joke, hoping it lands.

he lets out a giggle, “yeah, there definitely is. i’ll grab the next one for you.”

he walks over to a section near the front of the store, flipping through the excess of papers before he finds the 2nd issue. “if you liked that one, you’ll like this one even more.” he returns to the register with the issue, placing it on the counter for you.

“duel to the death with the vulture?” you read from the page. “i haven’t seen any of the movies recently so correct me if i’m wrong, but i don’t remember there being a vulture.”

“oh yeah, he’s in one of the later movies actually,” mark starts. “but you got a long way to go til you finally meet one of the iconic villians like the green goblin, or even the love interests gwen stacy or mary jane. it’ll be so worth the wait though.”

“how much do i owe you?” you ask, already pulling out your wallet.

“you can borrow it if you want,” he says.

“but this one belongs to the store, won’t you get in trouble?” you ask.

“just bring it back and it’s like it never happened,” he whispers, faking a shhh at you. “let’s just say it’s mall employee perk.”

you smile and accept it.

your new routine feels like a nice change of pace. every second of every day used to drag by, and yet at the same time, when you got home, everything that happened was so unbelievably boring that it all felt like a blur. nothing really significant happened to you. but something about trying something new, learning about a brand new niche interest, and even developing a crush… it’s finally something exciting.

you looked forward to the next time you got a new issue. not just that, but the next time you got to talk to mark. he has this charm about him that piqued your interest. it feels so easy to talk to him, as if you’ve already known each other for a long time and it isn’t just a budding friendship. you’d find yourself stopping by the comic book store a few times a week, anticipating the next comic and the underlying tension between you and mark.

like today, when you finally got off of work after a long shift. you were able to close up shop quickly and now you’re walking over to the comic book store, attempting to run in before mark locked up.

“hey, is it cool if i get the next issue real quick?” you ask, popping your head in the store.

“yeah, one sec,” he says, looking up from counting the cash in the register. “lemme just finish closing up the register.”

“are you implying that you’re gonna let me borrow another comic?” you ask, a flirty tone floating beneath.

“well of course,” he says, swiftly closing the cash drawer. “unless you want to start collecting, which by the way, SUPER expensive.”

“i think i’ll stick to being a casual reader for now,” you joke, approaching mark at the register.

“i don’t know, you might change your mind after this one,” he says, grabbing a comic from his bag. he holds it out to you, you grabbing it with your fingers briefly brushing past his. the motion makes you feel a little dizzy, and you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.

you shake your head, realizing this one doesn’t belong to the store. “wait, is this your own personal comic?”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he says, half focusing as he’s writing something on a sticky note at the counter. “i brought it in so you can borrow it.” you can see the corner of his mouth turning up, as if he’s trying to hold back a smile.

“you didn’t have to do that—”

“i wanted to,” he says, lifting his head up to hand you the sticky note he was writing on. “just treat it with care.”

you take the note, which is pale blue with a cartoon spider-man in the corner. in the middle of the note is a scrawled out phone number. you look up to see mark rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“if you want to tell me what you think?” he says, almost like a question.

“or maybe when i get bored during my shift?” you ask, chuckling.

“i’d like that a lot actually,” he smiles, his previous nervousness quickly washing away.

“you’ll regret it though,” you say, sticking the note on the front page of the comic. “because i get bored here a lot.”

“don’t worry,” mark laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t think i’ll get sick of you anytime soon.”

you finally reached issue #14 of spider-man, the one mark is lending to you. you grab it out of your bag at the beginning of your shift, sitting back in your chair behind the register and getting comfortable. you realize what it’s about and immediately text mark.

sent 10:17 am omg wait i didn’t realize this issue is the first appearance of the green goblin

you look across the way, seeing mark pick up his phone and smiling.

sent 10:18 am mark: oh yeah, he’s fuckin sick mark: you’re gonna love it

you click your phone off with a soft sigh, flipping back to your comic. you go about your shift switching from helping customers and checking them out, and reading. every once and a while, you’ll message mark with your comments and he would always reply with enthusiasm.

the end of your shift approaches quickly, and soon enough you’re closing the security shutters. you look behind you to see mark locking the doors and then doing the same. he must’ve felt your eyes on him, because he turns and flashes his famous smile to you. you walk over to him with the comic in hand.

“you were right,” you say, handing it him. “green goblin is super sick.”

“i told you,” he says, reaching for it, and your hands momentarily touching like last time. he gets flustered. “uh, i can give you the next one tomorrow if you’re working.”

“i am, yeah,” you reply, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. “i am so curious though—when the hell does gwen stacy show up?”

“oh,” he giggles to himself. “you’re like, halfway there to finally seeing her.”

“i didn’t realize how extensive this series is,” you chuckle. “not that i’m complaining. i’m actually surprised by how much i like it.”

“i’m glad,” he says sweetly. “well, just come by tomorrow and i’ll give you the next issue.”

“i will.”

the following weeks, you became overtaken by superhero comics and stupid-fucking-adorable mark. you would read an issue of spider-man at work, and text mark with your reactions to certain scenes. at first you thought it might be annoying to him, but he actually seemed to encourage it, asking for your opinions on the characters and storyline.

it doesn’t help that every time you see mark, you get butterflies in your stomach. and it seemed to only be getting worse; you keep finding yourself smiling when his name pops up on your phone. you wake up excited to go to work, because you know you’ll probably have another interaction with him. sometimes, mark would even catch you staring at him and give a little nod with a smile. but what made things exponentially worse was when you catch him gazing at you too, catching you off guard but making a smile spread across your lips. you are smitten, and if anyone else was concerned, mark is probably smitten too. the issue is getting him to finally take the hint and making a real move on you.

he may get a little flustered around you, but he’s not exactly shy. after all, he did give you his number unprompted. but after weeks of going back and forth strictly talking about comics and work, you started to lose hope. you just want him. he must want you back just as bad.

after another closing shift, you watch the mall-goers pass by and file out of the building. the mall is basically empty now, most of the neighboring stores already closed and employees leaving for the day. you had to stay a little bit late, cleaning up a huge mess in the store from some rude customers. you thought you would have time to stop by to see mark, but with the amount of things you have to put away, your chances are looking slim.

you shuffle around the store, placing items back on the shelves and organizing the tables of merchandise. you eyes shift over to the comic book store, expecting to see it dark and locked up. but it isn’t; mark is still in there, half the lights still on, with him unboxing comics from their latest shipment. you already knew it was restock day for them (god you have way too much free time), but you didn’t realize how many boxes they got in.

you open the front door of your store, whisper-yelling through the security shutters. “mark!”

mark’s head turns to look at you and flashes a grin at you. “yo, you’re still here too?”

you nod, leaning on the glass door. you hold up a few of the displaced items in your hands. “go-backs,” you shrug.

he points at the pile of boxes in front of him, “restock. we got a lot of shit in early for christmas.”

“don’t say christmas please, i don’t want to think about it yet,” you say with a laugh.

you turn away to get back to work, putting all the merchandise back to their assigned spots. you don’t know what the hell got into people today; messing up all your organization you’ve done and putting things in all the wrong places. it didn’t help that you had to deal with some assholes with returns today too. you always theorize it’s from a full moon or mercury retrograde or something; those things must be the reason people start acting up.

after about an hour of cleaning, you finish up and can finally call it a day. you close up shop and turn to see mark still working on stocking at his store. you approach the security gate of the store, with its front door still propped open.

“i still need my next issue by the way,” you say to mark, who stands from his crouching position in front of an open box. he walks up to the gate and pushes it up, just enough for you to come through. you look hesitant.

“come in, it’s okay,” he says, motioning you in. you duck under the security gate, slipping into the store. “how was your day? looks like you had a lot to do.”

“yeah, the store was a mess,” you say, following him to the register. “i’ve never had to stay so late after close.”

“it’s only gonna get worse the closer it gets to christmas,” mark says while weaving around the boxes with you.

“what did i say about christmas?” you joke, nudging his shoulder softly.

“sorry, sorry,” he laugh, putting his hands up. you wait patiently for him as he kneels behind the register, looking for your comic. he pops back up with a stumped look on his face. “i swear i thought i put it up here to give to you but i can’t find it. i’m gonna go check the back.”

he starts walking to the back room, and looks back at you. “feel free to sit if you want. our stockroom is a wreck, this might take a sec.”

you nod to him, squeezing past the tower of boxes to sit in the chair at the register. it feels kinda funny to sit back here, like you’re seeing the store from a different perspective, from mark’s perspective. you look around behind the counter, seeing the little notes and cute super-hero knick knacks gathered around.

there’s a mini batman funko pop positioned in the corner, with a sticky note placed under his feet reading “no drinks at the register.” you look over to see a large iced coffee with mark’s name in sharpie. well, we all bend the rules a bit. his name tag is placed on the counter by a stack of comics. you grab it to take a closer look. it’s a plastic red pin with a white pop-art bubble. in the corner is a small piece of paper stuck on it, attached with office tape. on the paper is a spider-man doodle, made with red and blue marker and pen ink.

you’re sure this must’ve been drawn by mark. you have yet to see any of his drawings (despite your prying), so maybe seeing this one up close will give you a sneak peek into his style. it’s a little messy, with scratchy lines and colors bleeding outside the borders. despite that, it has a distinct style that you’re fond of. it’s not perfect, let alone does it look like the super-heroes you’ve been reading in your comics. but it has a quality to it that feels less polished and flat. it has character. the messiness makes it feel more… real.

you set his name tag down, placing it back next to the large stack of comics. these must be his go-backs. he’s been so wrapped up with his shipment he probably hasn’t had time to put them away. you think maybe it would be nice to help a bit. he’s been nice enough to let you borrow comics from the store, and you’re just waiting around after all.

you pick up the stack of comics, situating them into your arms, when you look down and see that under the stack is mark’s notepad. it’s not closed like you’re used to seeing it, opened to a clean white page with a drawing covering up a majority of it. it’s in a comic book style, you’re not surprised. but it has the same quality that his name tag doodle does; scrawly and messy, with no real precise lines. the colors are splashed across the page, with blotches of scribbled colored marker decorating it. then realize what it is—who it is.

it’s you.

the whole image captures you and a little bit of your surroundings. positioned at your normal spot at the register, you’re looking down at a comic with your fingers playing with the ends of your hair. but it has a dream-like feel to it, with the pages of the comic illuminating your face as if a source of power is emanating from it. and then the best part: the wings. placed behind your shoulders are pair of feathered wings, outstretched in a sketched black ink. it’s beautiful.

it’s beautiful and it’s you. mark drew you.

“yo, sorry that took so long,” mark says while emerging from the back, eyes still focused on the comic in his hands. “i finally found it, but dude i had to do some digging—”

mark’s words are cut short when he notices you holding his notepad, comics that were placed atop abandoned on the counter by you. he visibly gulps.

“mark…” you start, not moving your eyes from the drawing. “what’s this?” without a response for a few moments, you tear your eyes away to see mark with blush on his cheeks, mouth open but unable to let any words out. “did you… did you draw me?”

“look, it gets really slow during the day, i just did a little sketch to pass time—”

“mark, this isn’t just a sketch,” you say, looking back down at the notepad. “this is amazing.”

“y-you like it?” mark says, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“of course i like it,” you say.

“you don’t think it���s weird that i drew you without telling you?” mark asks, nervousness radiating from him.

“i don’t think it’s weird at all,” you say. “i actually love it. i like that you drew me as a superhero too, and one with wings at that.”

mark stays quiet, looking at his feet and probably overthinking everything right now. you look back up at him, tension building in your stomach as you ask what you already know the answer to. “you like me, don’t you?”

mark lifts his head to meet your eyes. he bites his lip anxiously as he nods slowly.

a streak of courage overtakes you as you grab his arm to pull him closer, him tripping over his own feet and crashing into your chest. you’re leaned against the counter, with mark’s arm behind you and hand placed flat on the surface. your faces are close, and you can feel his breath. his eyes are glued onto your lips, and he swallows thickly.

“mark, just kiss me,” you mumble, aching for him.

he wastes no time, leaning in to slot his lips between yours. he snakes an arm around your waist, holding you as close as he can. you melt into him, goosebumps floating across your skin in all-consuming desire. you move your hand to hold his cheek, thumb swiping on his smooth skin and fingers tangled in his soft, messy hair.

he pulls away, breath still shaky. “i’ve been wanting to kiss you for so long…” he trails off before leaning in and kissing you again, this time with more passion. he swipes his tongue between your lips, with you willingly accepting him. his hands trail up and down your sides, then finally places a firm grip on your waist and lifting you to sit on the counter. he slots between your legs, his body pressed close to yours. your fingers card through his hair, earning a sweet hum from him.

his hands trail down to your ass, pushing you closer against him to where you feel the bulge forming in his jeans. he can’t even hold back his moan, it being muffled by your lips. he pulls away again, this time kissing from your cheek down to your neck. he sucks at the expanse of skin while he caresses the other side of your throat. you let out a soft hum in pleasure, savoring every bite and lick—

“fuck, you sound so hot too,” he says in between kisses. he moves a hand down to your breast, kneading it roughly. you throw your head back, soaking in the pleasure from just his hands alone. his beautiful fucking hands, the ones that drew you. his lips feel so good on you, but his hands feel even better. it’s as if he’s been waiting for this moment for eternity and he doesn’t want to let you go. almost as if holding you, touching you is the only thing keeping him grounded in reality. it doesn’t feel real to you either; that mark, the cute boy you’ve had a crush on for weeks and weeks is kissing you, holding you, and yearning for you all the same.

you feel so wrapped up in the moment that you almost forget that you’re in public. sure, there’s no one left in the mall and the only people left are probably mall security, but the risk of being seen is still there. it just feels too good to stop.

“mark,” you say, giving in to the anxiety. “are we really doing this? right here, right now?”

he pulls back to look at you, still holding you close. “it’s just us here, and if it’s okay with you, i don’t think i can wait any longer.”

“i don’t think i can either,” you respond.

suddenly mark is ripping your clothes off, all while pulling you both behind one of the comic display cases. it’s your turn to take his clothes off, and you’re yanking his jacket off and pulling up his graphic tee and discarding them both on the floor. the exchange is a jumbled mess of constant touching of skin and clothes flying in every direction, a true testament to how desperate you both want each other. he’s kissing you all the while, taking every opportunity to peck at you between the tugging of clothes.

he leans you against the display bookshelf full of comics, completely unbothered when an issue or two falls off. your hand travels down into this jeans, feeling him hard and pulsing against your palm. you stroke his length slowly, focusing most of the stimulation on his dripping head. he lifts one of your legs slightly to get better access to you under your skirt, then looks at you as if he’s asking for permission.

you nod your head profusely before leaning in to kiss him deeply. it doesn’t last long, because suddenly he’s pushing inside you and you’re gasping at the stretch—

“you’re so—fuck—so fucking tight,” he hisses, attempting to push in as slowly as he can. your mouth is fully agape in bliss as he finally bottoms out, reaching deep inside of you. he catches your eyes, lust filled in his own as he slowly starts to move.

he’s slow at first, knowing that his size is stretching you out to the point where it’s nearly painful. but it feels so fucking good, his cock dragging in and out of your tight walls. you can tell he wants to pick up the pace, with his breath shuddering with each stroke. you take the opportunity to kiss him again, wanting to taste his soft lips as he gradually begins to pound into you.

he’s groaning against your lips, and your moans are muffled against his. you’re trying to salvage any sort of public decency by holding back your sounds the best you can. it’s when he grabs your legs and lifts you to press you against the display shelf that you realize that that shred of awareness of your surroundings is about to be long fucking gone.

he’s holding you up by gripping your ass, pistoning into you at a pace that you can only describe as brutal. it’s no use trying to stifle your moans anymore, with him hitting your cervix over and over and making you see stars at each stroke—

“mark, it feels so fucking good,” you can only whine out to him, wrapping your arms around his neck tighter, tugging at his hair—

“you feel so fucking good, jesus,” he groans against your neck, heaving breaths tickling at your throat.

his pace is wild, but the force in which he’s pounding into you begins to cause the comic books around you to tumble off the shelves, creating a pile at mark’s feet. he doesn’t seem to care though. that is, until a comic book falls from a shelf above you and hits him on the head.

“ah!” he exclaims, realizing what happened. he stops his movements to look at you, holding back a smile.

you can’t hold back your laugh, giggling profusely at the ridiculousness of the situation. he laughs too, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

“this is crazy,” he says, resting his forehead on yours.

“i know,” you reply, still giggling. with one last laugh, he leans in and kisses you tenderly, smile still formed on his lips. you melt into him, ruffling your fingers through his hair as he begins to pick back up the roll of his hips into you.

it feels like a sweet moment, the fact that you can be doing such a scandalous act and still giggle with him. the tenderness doesn’t last for long, however, when he hits that perfect spot inside you that forces you to release a sharp moan.

“mark, oh my god,” you whimper, attempting to roll your hips down onto him. “keep doing that, please—”

“fuuuck,” he groans, feeling your core clenching around his length. “you take me so well, baby.”

all you can do now is nod, whimpering and whining on him. you can’t believe that this man that has always been so endearing, so kind and lovable has this completely different side to him that you’re only now getting to experience. it brings a different sort of intrigue to him; that he’s more than just a cute boy that works at a mall. he’s complex. he’s a fucking man. he’s a fucking. sex. god.

his breathing starts to become irregular, and his pace is back to merciless. his groans, fuck, his moaning. he’s bouncing you on his cock in the perfect way to where your moans are matching his. you can feel his dick pulsing inside you—

“i’m gonna cum,” he can only breathe out, burying his head into the crook of your neck. “can i?”

“yes mark, please,” you whine, tugging at the ends of his hair. all the while you’re clenching around his cock, bringing him closer and closer to his release.

with a low groan, his hips stutter and you feel his seed spilling into you, completely filling you up. the rocking of his hips stall, and he’s finally letting you down and kissing you sweetly, caressing your cheek with his hand.

“god, you are fucking perfect,” he whispers to you. you let out a giggle, leaning your forehead against his. “hey, i’m not done with you yet.”

he quickly moves you to the glass display counter, lifting you to sit you on it. he pushes your thighs open, lifting your skirt up to get a better look at you. he looks enamored, like he’s starving and the only thing to appease his hunger is by having you on his mouth.

he dives in, licking a stripe up your core with a groan. he repeats this action, as if he’s savoring every drop of your essence mixed with his release that’s slowly dripping out of you—

“so fucking hot,” he hums, releasing a hand from your thigh to tease at your entrance.

“mark, please,” you beg. “stop teasing—”

he attaches his mouth to your clit, swirling his tongue around in smooth, controlled circles. your hands fly to his head, body already twitching from stimulation. his finger is still prodding at your hole, wanting to enter but not just yet. he instead continues to ravage at your sensitive bud, intentional movements making your head spin. he knows what he’s doing and he knows he’s good, especially with the shaking of your thighs and high pitched moans escaping your lips egging him on.

he looks up at you, flattening his tongue out and doing long, drawn out licks. the eye contact is insane, the lust filled in them only making it that much hotter. he’s enjoying every second of this, seeing you shake and begging him to keep going. he loves the taste of you too, so sweet and almost addictive. he could die like this.

his teasing finger finally starts to deepen inside you, slowly at first. he can feel every pulse of your core around his finger, and it’s so hot that he can feel himself getting hard again. and you’re so wet, oh my god, so fucking wet. your arousal is dripping down his chin and his hand, making a sticky mess. when you start to roll your hips onto his face, he swears he’s in heaven.

he inserts another finger, feeling that tightness grip around them. it’s only getting more erratic now, clenching around him with each grind of your hips. he curls his fingers to prod at that sensitive spot, causing you to moan out his name—

“mark, don’t stop,” you whine, looking down at him basically making out with your pussy.

he continues the same movements, repeatedly hitting your g spot and swirling his dripping tongue on your clit. your back arches and legs unintentionally close around his head, making him push them back open with his free hand.

and then he starts humming against you. the vibrations send a shock wave through your body, that mixed with his fingers, his tongue, his hand gripping tightly against your thigh… it feels so intense and so so good. you cum on his tongue, with him desperately holding your hips down and he helps you ride out your high. he doesn’t stop until you’re shaking, and you have to grab his head and lift it.

“oh my god,” you gasp, slowly coming down.

he smirks up at you with arousal-coated lips. “yeah, oh my god.” he stands up, immediately going to kiss you and you accepting him, wrapping your arms around him. he pulls away and leans his head against yours.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” he says, sighing out an exasperated laugh.

“i know, what the fuck, right?” you giggle.

“are you- are you doing anything right now?” he asks. “like, do you wanna get food or something?”

“are you asking me on a date?” you ask teasingly.

“don’t tell me you decided you’re creeped out by the drawing now,” he laughs.

“yeah. suuuper creeped out,” you joke, leaning in for another kiss. you hear a noise behind you, and look out through the security shutters to see a mall security guard passing by, scrolling through his phone.

“looks like he just missed the show,” mark says, causing you both to try and hold back your fit of giggles.

a/n: thank u guys for reading! i rly enjoyed this one hehe :-) please leave feedback as i'm new to writing, and reblog to support me! it motivates me to write more!

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[hyuckiestarz]

best friend!mark texts but he's down bad

masterlist

[seouljazzbar]

GO WITH IT

MARK LEE (이민형)

ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it

WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending

PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader

WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe

Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.

The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 

All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.

The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”

Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 

“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.

Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”

You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”

White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”

A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”

Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”

“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.

“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”

“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”

Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”

“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.

The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—

“I’ll fuck you.”

You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.

“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 

“Mark—”

The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”

“Shouldn’t be what?”

“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”

The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”

Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”

“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”

That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 

Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”

It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.

He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.

“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”

Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 

“Shouldn’t that be weird?”

He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 

“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”

“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 

His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”

“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”

Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”

“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”

“Mark!”

His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”

One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”

Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.

He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”

Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”

His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”

“Mm, don’t be shy.”

Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.

You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.

“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”

It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”

He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.

You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”

“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”

Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”

He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”

You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.

“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.

“I’m, I’m close.”

He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”

“Whyyyy?”

“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”

You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”

But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”

“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”

The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”

“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”

It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 

You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 

It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.

“Fuck.”

You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.

“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.

It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.

He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.

You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”

It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 

“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  

“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”

All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 

“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.

“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.

Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.

“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”

“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 

“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.

Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.

“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.

“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”

He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”

Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 

“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”

He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”

The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”

“‘m gonna cum again.”

He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”

“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.

“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.

“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 

He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.

Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 

You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

“What time is it?”

He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”

“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”

Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”

“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”

He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”

“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”

He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”

None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.

“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”

[hyuckiefluff]

playing with fire

pairing: mark!haechan x fem. reader genre: college au, smut, rivals to fwbs wc: 12k+ summary: mark and haechan can't stand each other's guts, but they want the same girl... and maybe she wants them both, too. content warnings: unprotected sex, threesome, oral (f+m receiving), semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, sex tape, jealousy, marking, hand job, fingering, multiple orgasms (like a lot!!), double penetration, a little bit of mahae action (couldn’t help myself), orgasm denial, aftercare. a/n: all i’m gonna say is that this was completely self-indulgent. i just haven't been the same since 82+ pressin came out and this is the result. i don’t think i’ve ever written so much smut for a single fic before omg. it's rlly a lot i apologize in advance. ps: stream 82+ pressin, 1999 and the aoty aka the firstfruit.

all your life, people let you get away with things. maybe it was your soft face, your sweet smile, or the way you tilted your head when you lied. they thought you were innocent.

but anyone who actually knew you, knew better.

you were full of fire, tucked neatly into a deceptively small frame. and by fire, you meant you were horny. always had been. sex wasn’t your entire personality, you just liked it—frequently and with whoever could keep up. so when two gorgeous boys started fighting over you, you didn’t think twice. even if those boys hated each other’s guts.

you were just stepping into the cafeteria when a low whistle caught your attention. you glanced over your shoulder and saw haechan strolling in.

you rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at the corners. 

“can’t stay away from me, huh?” you said when he finally caught up, his arm sliding over your shoulders easily.

“you know i can’t, pretty” he murmured, voice close enough to your ear to make you shiver. “you coming over tonight?”

you fold your arms across your chest, purposefully pressing your cleavage together. his eyes dropped right on cue. you knew he loved this shirt. or rather... he loved your tits in this shirt.

“i was there last night, hae. i can’t play favorites, it makes the other boys in my roster jealous,” you said sweetly, brushing a kiss to his cheek and stepping ahead.

“there’s no roster,” he said with a cocky grin, catching up easily. “i know that.”

“oh, don’t be so sure.” you waved at someone in the distance. haechan’s head turned just in time to catch mark lee smiling at you from across the room.

his face soured immediately. “mark lee? really?” he scoffed. “you can do better than that idiot.”

you looked at him, catching the slight twitch in his jaw. you smirked. their little rivalry was so amusing to you.

“remind me again why you hate him so much?” you ask as you drop into your seat. haechan slid in beside you, tugging your chair closer without effort.

“because he’s a manipulative dickhead who pretends to be some righteous good guy,” he muttered, fingers playing with the strap of your tank top.

“so... like half your friends?” you arched a brow. 

“why are we even talking about him? let’s talk about us” he groaned, leaning in to kiss you but you dodged, making his lips brush your neck instead.

“since when is there an us?” you laughed, pushing him off half-heartedly.

“since you let me fuck you against every surface in my dorm,” he said smugly.

“don’t think that makes you special,” you replied, patting his chest.

your hand lingered there a second longer, reminding you how toned he actually was. easy to forget with that sweet face and mouthy attitude.

“i’m definitely your favorite though,” haechan grinned, leaning in again and this time, you let him kiss you. his mouth moving slowly but greedily against yours.

across the room, mark was stabbing his lunch violently. his plastic knife bent halfway through his sandwich.

“okay, you’re scaring me,” jaemin said, side-eyeing him. “who’re you trying to murder with your eyes?”

“no one,” mark muttered, dragging his eyes away.

jaemin followed his gaze and snorted. “ohhh, is that your girl?”

“she’s not my girl,” mark grunted. “we’ve just been… talking.”

“yeah? well, looks like that’s all you’re gonna be doing,” chenle chuckled next to him, biting into his sandwich.

“fuck off” mark said, chucking a crumpled napkin at chenle’s face.

“i’m pretty sure she was with jay last semester,” jaemin added, watching mark’s reaction with barely concealed amusement.

“and wonbin,” chenle said through a mouthful of food.

mark’s jaw ticked. “what exactly are you guys trying to say?”

“relax,” chenle raised both hands, smirking. “we’re just saying she’s clearly not into exclusivity.”

“whatever,” mark muttered, pushing his chair back. “like i said, we’re just talking.”

“uh-huh, sure” jaemin said with a knowing grin. “play with fire if you want… just don’t act surprised when you get burned.”

┈─★

mark couldn’t stop thinking about what the guys had said. it wasn’t even like he wanted anything serious with you. but still, the way you clung to haechan, only to turn around and flirt with him like your eyes hadn’t just been heart-shaped for the biggest dumbass on earth… yeah, it was starting to piss him off.

he was stewing in that frustration, gripping the steering wheel harder than necessary on the way to the store, when he spotted your car on the side of the road.

he pulled up behind you without thinking.

your face lit up the second you saw him. you were sweaty and flushed from the heat, but still so damn pretty it made something sharp twist in his chest.

“mark!” you said his name with so much relief he had to glance away, suddenly shy.

“hey,” he said, climbing out of the car. “need help?”

“please… i don’t know what happened. it just died on me” you pouted, arms crossed under your chest. “i barely made it off the road."

mark blinked, trying not to focus on your lips—the same lips that had kissed all over his neck last week at that party.

“okay, let’s take a look,” he muttered, walking over to the hood you’d already popped open.

he leaned over the car and tried to focus, to remember what he even knew about engines. he wasn’t a mechanic, but he knew enough not to look stupid in front of you.

you stood beside him, your shoulder kept brushing against his arm every time you leaned in to “check” what he was doing.

“you think it’s serious?” you asked, biting your lip .

mark glanced at you from the corner of his eye. “hard to tell. your battery might’ve just died.”

“ugh, great,” you groaned dramatically, flopping against the side of the car. “this day already sucked.”

“you’re lucky i was driving by,” he said, wiping his palms on his shorts. “you could’ve been stuck here for a while.”

you smiled at him sweetly, reaching for his hair and playing with it. “thank you for rescuing me, my knight in shining armor.”

mark froze for half a second.

“don’t do that,” he said quietly, eyes still focused under the hood.

“do what?” your voice was all fake innocence, and when he finally looked at you properly, you were leaning back just enough for your shirt to ride up and show the barest strip of your waist.

“you know what” he muttered.

you tilted your head, teasing. “we’re just talking, mark.”

he exhaled sharply. “yeah, well... i’ve had enough of that.”

you blinked at him, not catching the double entendre fast enough. before you could say anything, he stepped closer. not touching you but close enough that his chest brushed yours.

“you keep looking at me like that, saying things like that and then you go and let haechan put his tongue down your throat in front of everyone,” he said, voice low and raspy. “and don’t say it doesn’t mean anything.”

you stared at him, heat curling in your stomach.

“i wasn't gonna say that”

mark gave you a dry laugh, shaking his head. “then stop playing with me.”

you smiled, slow and wicked. “maybe i want both of you.”

mark’s jaw clenched, his eyes dropping to your lips as he licked his own, and for a moment, you thought he might actually kiss you right then and there—hot, frustrated, angry.

instead, he took a step back.

“your battery’s dead,” he said, eyes still burning. “i’ll get mine and jump it.”

and just like that, he walked back to his car, leaving you breathless and grinning like a devil in the sun.

he popped the hood of his car and grabbed the jumper cables, avoiding your eyes the whole time. you watched him work with brows furrowed, arms flexing every time he connected something or reached for a clamp. he was mad.

and you loved it.

“okay, try turning it on now,” he called out, stepping aside.

you slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine coughed before finally coming back to life.

“yay!” you grinned, hopping out. “mark, you’re a lifesaver.”

“don’t mention it,” he said, closing your hood.

you stepped out and leaned against the car again. “what would i do without you?”

he walked over slowly, wiping his hands on his shorts. “probably flash your pouty lips at some other poor guy and get him to do it for you.”

you raised an eyebrow. “are you calling me manipulative?”

“if the shoe fits.”

you took a step toward him. “you didn’t seem to mind when i was kissing you last week.”

“didn’t say i minded,” he said, voice low again. “but i’m not interested in being one of your toys.”

“aw,” you pouted the way you knew he couldn't resist. “but you play so well.”

mark’s mouth twitched.

“get in your car,” he said instead, walking away again.

“got tired of me already?” you called after him, teasing.

“no. i’m telling you to leave before i do something i’ll regret.”

you didn’t move. “like what?”

mark stopped and sighed, you giggled to yourself thinking you’d successfully managed to frustrate him. but then suddenly he turned back and stopped right in front of you, so close that your back was nearly pressed against the car.

“like remind you exactly what you’d be missing if you pick haechan,” he said, eyes flickering down to your lips.

you swallowed a smirk. this was so much more interesting than you thought it’d be.

you tried to lean into him, but he immediately backed up.

“drive safe,” he said, heading to his own car without looking back.

you stood there, heart racing, staring after him and thinking how you’d get both of them alone in a room without them trying to rip each other’s throats.

┈─★

you figured if you were ever going to bring up your little fantasy to life, mark needed to be wrapped around your finger first. haechan would be easy to convince—he was practically already halfway there. one breathy moan from you and he’d be on his knees.

mark, on the other hand… he needed more work. not because he wasn’t into you, but because he had that whole gentleman with a moral compass thing going on. sweet. respectful. frustratingly hard to seduce without making it feel like you were the one being played.

in other words, you had to lock in.

so instead of texting or sliding into his dms like usual, you started showing up where you knew he’d be. but this turned out to be more difficult since the guy was literally everywhere and nowhere at once. you found out from a mutual friend that he worked two jobs, volunteered for three different campus orgs, was part of the baseball team and somehow still managed to keep a spotless GPA.

you went to every place he frequented, including the music store where he part-timed at, but he wasn’t there, “you just missed him” the other workers said.

you almost gave up for the day until something caught your eye past the chainlink fence by the baseball field. someone was pitching solo.

and there he was, mark lee in all his sweaty glory.

“hey there, slugger,” you called out, leaning your arms on the fence as he straightened up and turned around, wiping sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt. it lifted just enough to show the cut of his abs.

he blinked at you in confusion for a second before recognition hit and his mouth tugged into a crooked little smile. “yo… what are you doing here?”

“you looked lonely,” you said, pushing the gate open and walking toward him, “mind if i keep you company?”

he shifted, catching the ball in his glove, clearly trying to be nonchalant but his eyes didn’t lie—they dragged over you like he hadn’t seen a girl in weeks. you were wearing a tank top you knew made your tits look phenomenal, and you were sure he noticed.

“sure,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “i’m just messing around, anyway.”

“well, i like messing around,” you replied, tone smooth as honey, letting the double meaning land. 

mark chuckled nervously. he was flustered, a cute little blush spread across his cheeks and down his neck. you were definitely getting to him.

“you want a turn?” he asked, gesturing to the bat.

you raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “are we still talking baseball?”

his lips twitched. “depends… what are you talking about?”

you reached for the bat, letting your hand graze his fingers. “guess you’ll have to find out.”

“you ever even held one of these before?”

you took it, pretending to examine it seriously. “i mean, i’ve seen a league of their own like… twice.”

mark laughed, the sound bright and easy. “that’s a start.”

he showed you how to stand and the proper way to hold the bat, stepping in behind you with a respectful distance—no unnecessary touching or cheap moves. you could feel his warmth at your back, his voice in your ear as he adjusted your grip.

“okay, just swing through when the ball comes in. don’t overthink it.”

“easy for you to say, coach.” you glanced over your shoulder and caught his eyes on yours.

for a second, neither of you moved. you realized how pretty his eyes were from this close, they were round and bright looking at you.

then he stepped back and toward the pitching mound with a sheepish little smile. 

“alright, give it a shot.”

your first swing was absolutely tragic.

mark laughed again, clapping once. “okay, that was adorable but we should review the basics.”

the next twenty minutes passed like that—him showing you how to swing properly, you pretending to take it seriously just to mess with him. you both ended up out of breath from laughing more than anything else. and by the end of it, you were glowing in the sun, hair a mess, tank top slightly clinging to your skin.

“okay, okay,” you finally said, wiping sweat from your brow, “i need a break.”

mark nodded, picking up the scattered balls. “dugout’s over there. i’ll grab us some water.”

you ducked into the dugout, the shade instantly soothing your sun-warmed skin. your legs were a little shaky from all the running around, but your heart wasn’t only thudding because of the exercise. you watched mark jog over to the cooler, shirt sticking to his back, his hair damp and curling at the edges. he looked so good it was unfair.

he came back with two bottles of water and handed you one, settling beside you on the bench. his thigh brushed against yours briefly before he shifted away to give you some space.

“not bad out there,” he said, twisting open his bottle. “your form’s a little weak, but you’ve got potential.”

“mm, and here i was trying to impress you,” you said, sipping. “guess i’ll have to try harder.”

he huffed a soft laugh and glanced sideways at you. “you’re doing fine, just… need a little discipline.”

“are you volunteering for the job?” you tilted your head.

mark stayed silent for a second. he was watching the field now, fingers drumming lightly on the bottle in his hand. “i know what you're doing”

you raised a brow. “oh yeah?”

“you don’t need someone messing around with your head. or your body. you deserve more than some dumb fling.”

you leaned back on your hands, letting your knees fall slightly open, enough to test him. “you ever think maybe i don’t want more?”

his jaw tensed. he didn’t look at you right away, he was trying really hard to keep his eyes anywhere but your legs. “you don’t mean that.”

“i do,” you said simply. “you think i don’t know what i want?”

he finally looked at you and the way his eyes moved over your face—it wasn’t lust. it was frustration. like he wanted to do something but had spent his whole life learning to hold back.

you leaned in, your voice softer now. “you keep talking like i’m some sweet girl who needs protecting, mark. but i don’t want that from you.”

he swallowed hard. “what do you want, then?”

you smiled, slow and a little dangerous. “i want you to stop pretending like you don’t want this too.”

he blinked, then he exhaled and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, laughing under his breath like he couldn’t believe what he was about to do.

“this is a bad idea,” he murmured.

“maybe,” you said, leaning just a little closer. “but i promise it’ll feel good”

mark didn’t answer but his eyes dropped to your mouth and stayed there. he looked like he was working through every possible reason to pull away, but none were winning.

“you should probably leave,” he said after a beat, voice rough. “before i forget how to be a good guy.”

you leaned in so your leg was now on top of his. “i’m not asking you to be a good guy, mark.”

he closed his eyes and shook his head. “don’t say that.”

“why not?”

“because if i touch you like i want to,” his eyes opened again, darker now. “i won’t be able to stop.”

“good,” you said, voice low. “i don’t want you to.”

he turned toward you, one hand gripping the bench behind you.

“you’re not making this easy,” he said.

“i know, but you can trust me”

his gaze flicked to your lips again. then your neck. then back to your eyes.

“you’re serious?”

you nodded, slow. “you think i’d be here if i wasn’t?”

mark let out a breath through his nose. “fuck.”

you watched his knuckles flex on the bench, how he was clearly using every ounce of willpower to stay still. his shoulders were angled toward you now. his jaw was tight, eyes darting like he was thinking ten steps ahead and still getting stuck on you.

you reached out, brushing your fingers over his forearm. “if you’re gonna kiss me, just do it already.”

he didn’t move right away but when he did, it was careful. one hand slid behind your neck, thumb brushing just under your ear as he leaned in. his lips touched yours softly.

but you didn’t want soft.

you pushed in, lips parting just enough to deepen the kiss, and that was when his restraint cracked. his other hand found your waist, pulling you closer, pressing you into the bench. he kissed you harder this time, all that tension finally bleeding through.

you smiled against his mouth, whispering, “see? doesn’t that feel better than being good?”

his answer was a low groan against your lips, his hand slid up, fingertips grazing the bare skin where your top had ridden up. he paused there, like he was waiting for you to stop him.

you didn’t.

instead, you moved into him, straddling his lap without breaking the kiss. his breath hitched the moment your hips settled against his, and that tiny reaction was all the confirmation you needed. he wanted this as much as you did. even if part of him was still trying to talk himself out of it.

“touch me more,” you said, tilting your head to nip at his jaw. 

his hands finally slid under your shirt, splaying across your back, pulling you flush against him. your body molded to his like it had always belonged there, and his lips found yours again.

your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently, and he groaned low in his throat. his hips bucked up before he could stop himself, and your breath caught when you felt how hard he already was under you.

his hands moved lower over your ass, gripping tight as he shifted you against him again. it was getting hotter in the dugout, clothes sticking to skin, breaths growing uneven. your lips were swollen, your thighs shaking just slightly from the tension. he kissed down your neck, tongue brushing a spot that made your spine arch.

“fuck,” he whispered, his lips ghosting along your jaw. “you drive me crazy.”

you rolled your hips again and mark’s head dropped back with a groan. his hands moved higher under your shirt, fingers brushing the band of your bra before hesitating.

you tugged your shirt up a little more for him, eyes locked on his. “you don’t have to ask.”

his gaze flicked up to yours and then he pulled your shirt off in one smooth motion, his mouth going straight to your collarbone, trailing heat down your neck. one of his hands cradled the back of your head while the other held your waist steady as you started grinding down against him again, both of you breathing harder now.

his fingers found the clasp of your bra behind you, fumbling only once before it came loose. the second it did, his mouth was on you, leaving open-mouthed kisses across your chest as your hips rolled harder.

you dipped your head, kissed the top of his ear, and whispered, “mark.”

it came out breathy, almost reverent. the sound of his name from your lips snapped whatever restraint he had left. his hands gripped your thighs, and in one quick movement, he stood—lifting you effortlessly as you clung to him, legs tightening around his waist.

your back hit the dugout wall with a soft thud, and he was on you again. teeth grazing your neck now, nipping and licking and kissing like he wanted to mark every inch of your skin.

you gasped, hips rolling against the hard press of him through his jeans. he hissed through his teeth, grinding back.

“mark, more please.” you moaned, eyes locked on his.

he growled something filthy and wrecked and then his hands were tugging at your waistband, fingers slipping beneath to palm the curve of your ass again, rougher this time. you arched into him, head tipping back as he pressed hot kisses along your throat, sucking hard enough to bruise.

your shorts ended up somewhere on the floor along with your shirt. and mark—sweet, tortured, trying-to-be-good mark—was rutting against you like he’d lost his damn mind.

“tell me what you want,” he said into your skin, breath hot and shaky.

you leaned in, lips at his ear. “everything.”

he groaned like the word punched him in the gut. his hand teased over the edge of your panties, fingers just barely brushing where you were soaked for him. he inhaled sharply, head dropping to your shoulder, and you could feel his restraint fracturing all over again. 

“jesus christ,” he muttered, voice wrecked. “we shouldn't be doing this here.”

he barely registered the sound of your breathless laugh before you dropped to your knees, eyes locked on his as your hands slid up his thighs. he looked down at you like he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“let me give you what you need,” you murmured, undoing the button on his jeans with practiced ease. 

“fuck,” mark breathed, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers brushed over him through the fabric of his boxers. he was so hard it looked like it hurt. you smiled seeing his reaction as you traced the outline of his cock.

he looked like he wanted to say something—some last-minute plea for control—but then you tugged his boxers down and wrapped your hand around him.

his knees nearly buckled.

you leaned in, lips brushing the flushed tip, tongue teasing just enough to make him choke on a groan. he gripped the edge of the dugout bench behind him to keep himself from falling over.

“shit—fuck, baby, please—” his voice cracked as you took him in deeper, mouth hot and wet and so fucking perfect. his hand found your hair, fingers trembling as he tried to resist the urge to thrust into your mouth.

you wanted him to lose it. wanted him unhinged.

you bobbed your head slowly at first, letting him feel every inch of your tongue, your lips, the way your throat clenched around him. when you moaned, his hips jerked and he cried out.

“jesus, i’m not—fuck, i’m not gonna last.”

you pulled off with a slick pop. “it’s okay, cum for me markie.”

before you could take him backs into your mouth again, he hauled you up, lips crashing into yours roughly. his hands found your ass again, lifting you onto the bench like you weighed nothing. your panties were gone in seconds and then he was pressed against you, panting against your mouth.

“you’re sure?” he whispered, voice shredded

you stared into his eyes, wrapped your legs around his waist, and said, “mark. fuck me already.”

not a second after, he was slamming into you with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt in one desperate thrust. the air was knocked from your lungs, nails scraping down his back as your bodies locked together in the filthiest kind of synchronicity.

his rhythm was brutal from the start, hips crashing into yours like he’d waited years for this. like every time he'd looked at you, every time he’d jerked off with your name on his lips, had been leading to this exact moment.

“you feel so fucking good,” he panted against your neck. “i can’t—I’m gonna—fuck, you’re perfect.”

you were both sweating, panting, lost in each other. the dugout echoed with obscene sounds of skin slapping skin and your moans mixing with his broken groans.

“i’m close,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours, voice wrecked. “tell me where you want it. please, baby—tell me.”

your fingers gripped his jaw, lips brushing his. “inside. fill me up.”

he moaned your name—screamed it, even—as he came, body shaking, strong arms locked around you. he held you through every wave, and didn’t stop fucking you until you came seconds after.

when it was over, when your bodies were spent and trembling, he collapsed against you, breathing hard, mouth still pressed to your neck.

“that was fucking amazing,” he whispered, laughing breathlessly.

you kissed the side of his head and smiled, knowing that you had him exactly where you wanted him.

┈─★

the rest of your week was spent with mark, who– slowly and against his better judgment– was developing a full-blown addiction to you.

but you couldn’t neglect the other half of your fantasy.

which is why you were now outside haechan’s dorm. he’d been ignoring your messages for days, which wasnt like him at all. and you were almost sure it had to do with how often you'd been with mark lately. 

you walked in without knocking and found him in front of his pc, hand stuffed into his sweats, fist working himself slow to some filthy porn on the screen.

he didn’t even notice you walking in at first due to his headphones. but he must've felt you behind him because he jolted, yanked his hand out, and scrambled to close the tab like you hadn’t already seen everything.

he spun around in his chair, cheeks flaming, trying to hide the clear tent in his pants.

“ever heard of knocking?” his voice came out annoyed but strained.

you crossed your arms, amused. “is this what you’ve been ignoring me for? gooning in your room all day?”

he didn’t answer, just looked anywhere but at you.

you stepped in closer and looped your arms around his neck.

“don’t be mad,” you whispered, brushing your lips close to his ear. “i came here because i missed you.”

“really?” he finally muttered, still not looking at you. “what happened to your new boy toy?”

“don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you said with a little smile. “mark’s not the first guy i’ve been with since our arrangement. i thought you were fine with that.”

he scoffed. “yeah, well… the other guys weren’t fucking idiots.” his eyes finally flicked to yours, dark and sharp. “plus, i doubt he makes you feel as good as i do.”

“then do something about it,” you whispered, dragging your nails along the nape of his neck. “remind me why i started fucking you in the first place.”

his hands were on you in a flash.

he grabbed your waist and hauled you onto his lap. the second you straddled him, he bit your bottom lip before kissing you deep.

“you want a reminder?” he growled “fine, but you’re gonna take what i give you”

you ground down against him and felt how hard he still was. this wasn’t some casual rebound fuck to him—this was territory. there was rage and lust and twisted affection in every move he made.

his fingers tugged your shirt up, mouth trailing fire along your neck, teeth scraping and marking.

“bet he doesn’t know how to touch you like this,” he murmured, slipping a hand under your waistband and cupping your already wet pussy. “bet he doesn’t even know what you like.”

“he’s learning,” you teased, smirking just to provoke him.

he scoffed and shoved your panties aside, pushing two fingers into you at once, hard enough to make your hips jerk.

“not like this,” he whispered darkly. “he can’t make you this wet with just his fingers, can he?”

you gasped, clutching at his shoulders as he curled his fingers deeper.

“god, you’re such a little slut for attention,” he chuckled “running to him just because he’s nice? is that what you want? a nice little boy?”

you could barely breathe now, body rocking into his hand with every word.

“you don’t want nice,” he hissed. “you want me. you want the one who knows how to break you and put you back together with a single fuck.”

your moan came out broken and sharp, your hips grinding down faster now. he was watching you fall apart, biting his lip like it was the only thing keeping him from slamming you down on the floor and reminding the entire dorm who you belonged to.

“say it,” he demanded. “say i’m the one you want. say his name doesn’t mean shit to you when you’re dripping for me like this.”

“you are,” you choked out. “you’re the only one i want, hae.”

he shoved his chair back with a grunt, stood with you still wrapped around him, and carried you to the bed. dropping you onto the mattress with a promise in his eyes, already yanking his sweats down.

“gonna fuck you so hard you forget what his voice even sounds like,” he muttered.

and from the look in his eyes—you knew he meant it.

he crawled over you, and with a quick peck to your lips, he slid his cock into you. you were so familiar with his size after so many fucks that it didn't take long for you to adjust and for him to start moving.

he switched your positions quickly, knowing how much you liked riding him. his mouth was on your chest, spit-slick and possessive, and his hips snapped up in a brutal rhythm from below you. he’d been talking the entire time— filthy words laced with jealousy and obsession.

“so fucking wet for me,” he groaned into your skin. “he could never get you like this.”

you moaned louder at that, clenching around him.

haechan reached over without breaking his rhythm, grabbing your phone from the desk behind him. you barely noticed at first, lost in the sensation of him buried so deep inside you, but then you heard the soft ding.

he pointed the camera down, letting it capture the view between your thighs, where you were split open and soaked, riding his cock like your life depended on it.

“what are you doing?” you gasped, half-laughing, half-panting.

“just making something for your little boyfriend,” haechan said with a smirk, his voice syrup-thick and mean. “he probably wants to know what you’ve been up to.”

he angled the camera to get your face, your tits, your hips grinding down as he fucked up into you. his hand slid up your stomach, fingers wrapping around your throat just enough to make your pulse jump under his thumb.

“look at the camera, baby,” he purred. “let’s show mark how you really beg.”

you bit your lip but obeyed, dragging your gaze to the lens. your expression was wrecked—eyes glassy, mouth open, cheeks flushed.

“that’s it,” he growled, snapping his hips up even harder. “show him who you belong to.”

the hand not holding the phone slid down your spine, grabbed your ass, and slammed you down onto him with a force that made the bed frame groan.

“you hear that, mark?” haechan muttered into the mic, his voice suddenly colder. “this is what your little good girl sounds like when someone actually knows how to use her.”

you whimpered shamelessly, as his cock dragged right against that spot inside you that made your vision spark white.

“she’s squeezing me like she’s never been fucked before,” haechan kept going, still holding the phone. “you ever get her like this, huh? you ever make her cum just from your cock and a few mean words?”

 he thrust into you hard and deep, so deep you cried out, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders.

“oh, that’s so much better,” he grunted, pulling back and slamming in again. “bet he doesn’t hit that spot, hm? bet he doesn’t know how deep you like it.”

you moaned loudly, the sound echoing against the dorm walls. he held the phone steady with one hand and gripped your jaw with the other, turning your face to the lens.

“tell him who makes you cum.”

you gasped. “haechan—fuck—you, you do—”

he grinned like the devil.

“good girl.”

the sound of skin slapping, the way your body arched into every thrust, the sweet, broken whines he pulled out of you—it was all being captured. and he made sure of it. shifting the angle, filming your tits bouncing, your fingers clawing at his shoulders, your lips mouthing please, more without even realizing it.

“gonna send this to him,” he muttered darkly, “maybe i’ll wait ‘til he’s all alone at night, thinking about you and then—bam.” he snapped his hips harder, making you gasp. “he’ll see you stuffed full of my cock.”

you clenched around him and he hissed.

“yeah, you like that. you love being filmed, dirty little thing.”

you were shaking now, pleasure boiling up in your gut as he kept fucking into you with brutal precision. all while recording you. all while imagining mark’s face when he saw you like this.

your thighs were already trembling from how many times you’d rolled your hips over him, the coil in your lower stomach drawn so tight you could scream.

haechan’s hands gripped your waist, keeping you just barely in rhythm as you rode him, the slow drag of his cock inside you leaving you teetering at the edge. your hands braced against his chest, fingernails digging into his sweaty skin. you were so close you could taste it.

“that’s it,” he murmured, voice gone low and raspy. “fuck yourself on me. let mark see how desperate you get.”

“haechan—fuck, please—i’m gonna cum—”

suddenly, his hands snapped up to your hips and stopped you. his cock still twitching inside you but he wasn't moving anymore.

“no, you’re not,” he said, eyes dark. “not yet.”

your head fell forward, lips parted in disbelief. “what?”

he leaned in closer, lips brushing your throat. “you wanna cum?” he asked, and you nodded, hips instinctively trying to grind down again.

he didn’t let you.

“then beg for it. look into the camera and beg for me.”

you shuddered. his voice wasn’t teasing anymore. it was burning hot with jealousy and the need to have control over you.

“tell mark you’re not allowed to come unless i say so. tell him you’re mine.”

you stared at him, wide-eyed, chest heaving, and then turned your head to the camera. your voice shook as you whispered, “please… please let me come. i need it. i can’t take it, hae, i—”

his hand slid up your back, grabbing your hair and tugging gently so your neck arched. he bit along your jaw, voice low and sharp against your ear.

“say it like you mean it. say it loud. i want him to hear what a needy little slut you turn into when you don’t get what you want.”

you swallowed, lips trembling. “please…please, hae, i’ll do anything…just let me come—”

“nah,” he muttered, tightening his grip and slamming up into you once. once. just enough to make you cry out and chase the friction, but not enough to give you what you needed.

“you don’t get to cum until i say so. and i’m not saying shit until you look into that camera and tell mark whose cock you fucking love.”

your body was on fire, everything inside you begging for release, but you obeyed. because your orgasm lived in his hands now.

“it’s yours,” you gasped, eyes flicking to the lens. “it’s always been yours. not his. he can’t fuck me like you do.” you lied.

“mmm, now that’s the energy,” he grinned, hand trailing down between your legs to barely graze your clit. “feel that? you want it, don’t you?”

“yes, yes, please—i need it—”

“you’ll take every fucking inch, keep grinding that soaked little pussy on me slow, and i’ll think about letting you come.”

you did as he said. he made you ride him in slow, teasing circles. every drag was torturous, your body screaming for a release you weren’t allowed to have. tears prickled in your lashes, your mouth open in a string of whispered begs.

“look how perfect you are when you’re desperate,” he murmured, finally rubbing slow circles over your clit. “this is what he needs to see. you fucking breaking apart on my cock.”

you whimpered something incoherent, your entire body trembling when he finally granted it.

“cum for me, baby. show him what he’ll never fucking have.”

you shattered instantly, mouth open in a silent scream, grinding down on him with a rhythm you couldn’t even control anymore. and he filmed all of it. the high-pitched moans, the tears, the way you collapsed against his chest completely undone. and when his orgasm hit soon after, he captured his cum dripping out of your used cunt. 

when your breathing slowed and your thighs stopped shaking, he clicked off the recording and kissed your temple.

“that should keep him up at night.”

┈─★

the next time you saw mark, it was at a party hosted by one of the student organizations. haechan was there too, for your pleasure, and you knew tonight was going to be the night you finally brought your twisted fantasy to life.

the plan was simple. get both of them to your apartment. 

and it was all going well until haechan yanked you into the bathroom, and before you could even think, you were on your knees, taking him in your mouth.

by the time you left the bathroom, your makeup was a mess. the lipstick smeared across your face was a dead giveaway of what youd been doing. haechan went off to get a drink, and you quietly retreated to the living room, sitting in front of a mirror to fix your face.

mark was talking to his friends across the room, but his eyes never left you. he hadn’t spoken to you in a week after receiving the video. he was pissed, sure, but it wasn’t as though he was surprised. he knew you had some kind of relationship with haechan. but to film it and send it to him? that shit crossed a line.

what bothered him most was that he couldn’t bring himself to delete the video. every night, he ended up jerking off to it, his mind filled with the image of you begging for that jerk’s cock.

he noticed haechan walk by, nodding to a few people along the way. when their eyes met, he smirked and started walking toward him.

mark’s lip curled into a scowl as the younger boy stopped in front of him, leaning casually against the wall.

“what’s up, lee?” haechan’s voice was light, almost too fucking smug. he slapped mark’s back with exaggerated force. jaemin and chenle exchanged glances and walked off when they caught the tension.

“did you get my video?” haechan asked, his eyes still glinting behind his cup, the stupid little grin never fading.

“i did,” mark replied coldly. his voice was almost a growl, thick with disgust. “what kind of man records a lady during sex?”

haechan chuckled. “if you watched the video, you’d know she was very much into it.”

mark’s jaw clenched “whatever. you don’t fucking deserve her,” he spat, his words dripping with venom.

“and you do?” haechan raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “please, she’s not into the whole gentleman act.”

mark’s smirk was all teeth now “then why does she keep coming back to me?”

haechan’s eyes narrowed, but the grin never left his face. “her lip gloss is still all over my cock, so i’d say there’s really no competition here…”

mark’s hand shot out, slapping the drink from haechan’s grip. he grabbed the younger boy by the collar, yanking him in close. everyone around them hushed and someone muttered oh shit.

that’s when you stood up and pushed your way through the crowd. when you reached them, you shoved them apart with a force that surprised even you.

“what do you two think you’re doing?”

your voice cut through the room like a whip—sharp enough to make a few of the partygoers flinch. mark’s fist was still clenched in haechan’s shirt, and haechan didn’t look even the slightest bit bothered. in fact, the smug bastard looked like he was thriving in the chaos, like he’d been waiting for this moment all goddamn week.

mark let go first, reluctantly, his eyes still locked on haechan’s. “he started it,” he muttered like a sulking schoolboy who’d just been caught throwing punches behind the gym.

“bullshit,” haechan scoffed, brushing off where mark had touched him. “he’s just mad he’s not the one you were sucking off ten minutes ago.”

you grabbed mark’s wrist before he could swing. “enough.” you looked at both of them. “you’re both acting like idiots. are we seriously doing this now? at a party?”

“he's talking about you like you’re some kind of trophy.” mark growled.

haechan scoffed. “oh, please” 

you could feel the eyes of half the party watching the drama with beers in hand. you tilted your head, walking up between them.

“you two are being childish.”

mark’s eyes dipped down to your lips, shiny from the fresh coat of gloss. a hint of it still smeared down your chin as a confirmation of everything haechan just said. he hated that no matter how pissed he was, he still wanted to grab you, shove you against the wall, and remind you how good he could make you feel.

“so, how about you stop wasting time on this pathetic pissing contest…” you continued, circling behind them slowly, “and come dance with me.”

you walked straight toward the dance floor, the bass vibrating through your heels and into your spine. you didn’t even turn to see if they were behind you. you already knew they were.

you stepped into the crowd, backlit by strobes, and then turned around slowly, one hand held out toward mark. his brows knit together at first, unsure. then he stepped in, hand sliding into yours.

your other hand reached for haechan, and that cocky smile curled across his lips before he grabbed your waist instead, pulling himself flush against your side.

“what’s this, baby?” haechan murmured against your ear.

you just smiled and rolled your hips into him at the rhythm of the music.

mark stood closer now, his chest brushing yours with every beat. his hands hovered like he didn’t know where he was allowed to touch, until you guided one to your hip.

you tipped your head up and kissed him first. your fingers fisted in his shirt as your lips dragged across his—tongue sliding against his until he forgot why he was mad in the first place.

but then you pulled away and turned, grabbing haechan by the jaw and kissing him too. open-mouthed. filthy. 

you felt mark tense behind you. you could almost hear his breath hitch as he watched.

but you didn’t stop.

your hand reached behind you, pulling mark closer until he was pressed against your back. your lips were still on haechan’s when your other arm looped around mark’s neck, forcing them both into your orbit.

in the chaos, in the rhythm and push and pull of bodies, your head tilted just enough to make room, and their mouths brushed.

they didn’t even realize at first. your body was between them, but it was hard to see whose hands were where, whose breath was in whose lungs. they were kissing each other before they even registered it. and when they did?

there was a second of stunned silence between them, and they both froze.

“fuck,” haechan muttered.

mark stared at him like something short-circuited behind his eyes. and then he kissed him again, rougher this time. 

you looked at them with a victorious smile on your lips.

when they pulled away, lips swollen and chests heaving, you saw the look on both their faces—equal parts frustration and lust. and you knew… this was the moment you had been waiting for.

you didn’t even wait for the song to end.

your hand shot out, fingers latching onto the front of mark’s jacket, then you grabbed haechan’s wrist and tugged them both forward.

“we’re leaving,” you said, voice low but commanding.

mark looked like he wanted to argue but you didn’t give him the chance.

you turned on your heel and walked out.

and like the two moths they were, they followed the flame.

┈─★

your apartment door slammed shut behind them, the tension snapping into something feral the second the lock clicked.

“you—” mark started, but you cut him off with a kiss. filthy, fast, and impatient. his hands went straight to your waist, pressing you back against the wall as his mouth opened under yours. he tasted like alcohol and haechan.

the later boy soon stepped behind you.

his hands slid under your shirt, palms hot against your bare skin, and his mouth was right by your ear. “so you really want both of us, huh?” he whispered, “you’re that fucking greedy.”

you reached back blindly, curling your fingers into his hair as you pulled away from mark.

“i want to figure out who deserves me more.”

haechan shoved mark backward—not hard, but enough to reclaim space. and mark let it happen for a second, jaw tight, watching as haechan spun you to face him and kissed you deep, tongue fucking into your mouth.

but then mark was there again. his hands on your hips, his chest flush with your back, and this time, he kissed haechan.

really kissed him. it wasn’t an accident or in heat-of-the-moment.

mark leaned around you, lips capturing haechan’s mid-moan, his fingers curling into your waistband as their mouths crashed. it was clumsy at first and then it turned hungry.

the three of you moved together, a mess of hands and mouths and breathless gasps. clothing peeled away between kisses, bodies pressing against each other with no room left for shame. by the time you hit the couch, you were half-naked and drenched in anticipation.

you shoved mark down first, straddling his lap, grinding against him as haechan knelt beside you.

“who gets to fuck you first?” haechan asked, his voice hoarse and teasing.

you smiled, biting your lip as you looked down at mark.

mark's breath hitched beneath you, his eyes flicked up and then down to where your soaked panties were rubbing against the thick outline of his cock through his jeans.

"fuck," he muttered, head tipping back against the couch as you rolled your hips again, just to watch him squirm.

haechan had one hand running up your thigh, the other palming the bulge in mark’s jeans with a wicked little grin. his own erection poking through his boxers

"you're both hard already," you whispered, your voice sweet and venomous. you leaned forward, brushing your lips against mark's ear. "and i haven’t even gotten naked yet."

"then fucking do it," mark growled.

"ask nicer," you cooed.

haechan laughed, low and breathy.  then he kissed your inner thigh, right above where the fabric was sticking to your soaked cunt, and said, "i’ll ask for him—take it off, baby."

you stood up and pulled your shirt over your head. no bra. both of their eyes dropped to your chest in an almost comical way. you hooked your thumbs into your panties and slid them down. by the time you were naked, both boys looked like they were seconds from breaking.

you dropped to your knees between them and unzipped mark’s jeans first, pulling his cock free and stroking him slowly, twisting your wrist the way you knew made his eyes roll back. he groaned, head falling forward to watch you. 

then, without warning, you leaned sideways and took haechan into your mouth instead.

mark cursed under his breath. haechan let out a deep, shaky breath, hand immediately tangling in your hair. you sucked him slow, wet, deep, letting the mess coat your lips as you kept stroking mark at the same time.

“you’re unreal,” haechan gasped, hips twitching. “fucking slut.”

you pulled off with a filthy pop, a string of spit connecting your lips to the head of his cock. "you like watching, mark?" you asked, turning your head just enough to meet his eyes as you jerked them both off side by side. "you like seeing how good i take his cock?"

mark's nostrils flared. then his hand was in your hair too, tugging you toward him, and you let him push into your mouth—let him fuck into your throat until you gagged, until your eyes watered, until his cock was slick with spit.

“jesus christ,” he muttered, voice ragged. 

haechan reached over and grabbed mark’s jaw, turning his face toward him to kiss him.

their mouths crashed messily. they kissed like they hated each other for how much they wanted this.

you sat back, breathless, watching their lips collide with yours on both their cocks, and you moaned—because this was it. this was your fantasy.

they broke apart with a gasp, and you grinned.

"let’s go to my room," you said.

but you barely made it down the hall before haechan spun you around and pressed you to the wall, his mouth crashing into yours. he kissed like he wanted to bruise you. hands groping, lips biting, tongue deep and fast and hungry.

mark’s hand was already sliding up under your thigh, lifting your leg so he could step in behind you. his breath ghosted over your neck, and his voice was a low growl against your skin.

“you like letting him touch you like that?” he asked, pressing his hips into your ass so you could feel exactly what he meant. “you gonna let me fuck you after he’s had his way with you?”

you moaned, letting your head fall back onto mark’s shoulder as haechan’s hand slid down your front and cupped your pussy, two fingers slipping through the mess between your legs.

“she’s soaked,” haechan smirked. “god, you’re such a filthy little thing.”

“fucking ours,” mark said, and even haechan didn’t argue with that.

they walked you to the bed like wolves with prey between their teeth. when you climbed onto the mattress, you didn’t even get time to settle because mark grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your ass up and spreading you wide.

haechan knelt in front of you, his cock already leaking. “open that pretty mouth again, baby.”

you did. obedient, dripping, desperate.

mark’s fingers slid into you from behind as haechan pushed into your mouth. your moan vibrated around his cock, and he cursed under his breath, thrusting deeper. mark’s pace picked up, his fingers curling just right—fucking you open, getting you ready.

"you’re gonna take us both,” mark said, and it wasn’t a question.

he lined up behind you just as haechan pulled back, breath ragged, stroking himself as he watched your ass push back toward mark instinctively. mark slid in slowly, inch by inch until you were full.

"fuck—" mark’s voice cracked. "you feel s’good."

haechan grabbed your chin to tilt your face up. “look at me while he fucks you,” he said, voice thick with lust. “wanna see your face when you cum all over his cock”

mark started thrusting harder, faster. your hands clawed at the sheets, moans falling from your lips in broken little gasps as your body rocked between them. haechan was watching every twitch of your face mesmerized.

and then he kissed you again, teeth dragging your lower lip before he shoved his cock back into your mouth.

it was obscene.

mark pounding into you, cock hitting the deepest spot inside your gummy walls, while you choked around haechan’s cock, spit dripping down your chin and onto the sheets. both of them moaning and touching you like they didn’t care if they left bruises so long as you kept begging for more.

“fuck—” haechan’s voice cracked, hips twitching as your mouth kept taking him, sloppy and hungry. “gonna cum on your tongue, baby. don’t even think about stopping. take it. take it.”

behind you, mark’s breath was a rough growl against your ear, his grip digging harshly into your hips as he drove into you desperately.

“you feel this?” he hissed, voice shaking. “tight little cunt, soaked and squeezing the fuck out of me. you like being used like this, don’t you?”

 you moaned so hard it came out as a choke around haechan’s cock, spit and precum leaking from the corners of your mouth.

your orgasm ripped through you like a scream you couldn’t voice, your thighs shaking, core clenching so hard around mark he nearly lost it.

“fuckfuckfuck—” he groaned, ramming into you until his hips stuttered and he came deep inside you, cursing through gritted teeth as you milked every drop from him.

haechan didn’t stop. even after mark collapsed forward against your back, he kept thrusting into your mouth, hips slapping your cheeks as he muttered incoherently, “fucking angel like this… ruined slut… fuck—”

your eyes rolled back, drool spilling past your lips as he came with a loud moan. his cum flooded your mouth so fast you gagged on it. he didn’t even pull out right away but just held your head there, watching your throat work as you tried to swallow around the mess.

mark looked down, chest still heaving. “jesus,” he muttered, watching the cum drip off your chin, pooling under you. “she looks fucking destroyed.”

your body collapsed face-down across the sheets, arms trembling, legs still spread and twitching. your skin burned from the heat of them, from their hands, their mouths. and still—they weren’t done.

mark sat up slowly, eyes locked on the cum leaking down your thighs. he reached down without a word, dragged two fingers through it, and spread it back up into you.

“don’t waste it,” he muttered, his voice low, hoarse. “not after you begged for it.”

haechan was still in front of you, watching the whole thing with a lazy grin. he leaned in, wiped the mess from your chin with his thumb, and smeared it back across your lips. “open.”

you did.

he shoved his thumb in, and you sucked weakly.

“god, look at you,” he whispered, thumb still in your mouth. “so fucking pretty like this. dumb and dripping with our cum.”

mark pushed in two fingers next, fucking it deeper into the mess between your thighs. “she’s still clenching,” he said. “greedy even now.”

you whimpered into haechan’s hand, your thighs shaking again. the overstimulation was biting at the edges of your spine like static.

“she can take another,” haechan said. “can’t you, sweetheart?”

you didn’t reply fast enough so mark grabbed your jaw and turned your head. “you want us to stop?”

you blinked, dazed.

“…no.”

“then say it.”

“don’t stop,” you whispered. “please…”

haechan was behind you before you could think, spreading your ass with both hands like he was admiring a ruined piece of art. he bent down, spit pooling from his mouth and landing right on your hole before he dragged two fingers through the mess of mark’s cum still leaking out of you.

“look at this,” he muttered, spreading you wider, thumb rubbing slow circles. “she’s dripping with you, mark. you gonna let me fuck her like that?”

mark didn’t answer. he just sat back with his legs spread, cock half-hard and twitching back to life as he watched you squirm. 

“she said not to stop,” mark said finally, voice like gravel and heat. “so don’t.”

haechan lined himself up and slid in slowly until you were choking on your own moan, fingers clawing the sheets again. your body was trembling from the overstimulation but he didn’t care. not even a little. he gripped your hips and started fucking you in hard, rough strokes that made the whole bed creak.

“every sound you make is fucking delicious,” he grunted. “i'm gonna hear you when i jack off for a week straight.”

you cried out, and mark moved toward your head, grabbing your chin and lifting it.

“open your mouth,” he said. 

you did and he spit into it. it hit your tongue, thick and warm, and he didn’t even wait for you to swallow before he slid his cock between your lips.

“don’t you dare stop sucking.”

your throat was sore from taking haechan earlier and your pussy was raw from how hard you’d already been fucked—but none of that mattered. not when they were both moaning. not when mark was muttering how pretty you looked drooling around his cock. not when haechan was rutting into you like he had something to prove.

“she’s not even thinking anymore,” haechan gasped. “just moaning and crying for us—fuck, she’s perfect.”

you didn’t realize your second orgasm was coming until it hit you harder and meaner than the previous one, tearing through your overstimulated nerves until your body convulsed and your throat released a garbled cry around mark’s cock.

mark came first this time, groaning as he pulled out just in time to jerk himself off all over your face until his cum painted your cheeks, your lips, your tongue.

“look at you,” he breathed. “fuck.”

haechan came right after, buried to the hilt inside you, hips stuttering as he flooded you again. his cum mixing with mark’s cum.

you were twitching against mark’s thighs, completely fucked out.

but they didn’t even leave you alone then.

mark pulled you up so you were fully on top of his chest, and ran a thumb over your ruined lips while his other hand slid between your thighs again, fingers stroking the mess they’d made.

“you’re not done,” he whispered.

haechan leaned in from behind, kissing your neck, biting your shoulder. “we’re gonna clean you up from the inside.”

your limbs trembled, your thighs were soaked, your throat ached but your moans still came out soft and needy, like begging had become your first language.

mark’s hand moved between your legs, fingers slipping back inside you with zero mercy. your pussy twitched around him, hypersensitive, every motion making your whole body flinch—but fuck if it didn’t feel good. 

“you’re gonna cum again,” he said, more command than promise. “and again. and again. until we say you’re done.”

haechan moved on top of you, curling around you like a possessive snake.

“you hear that, baby?” he whispered “you wanted both of us… this is what that means.”

his hand snuck between your thighs, meeting mark’s fingers. two sets of fingers working inside you, scissoring, curling, fucking you through the wreckage of your last orgasm and dragging you right into the next.

you were crying now, quiet tears streaming down your cheeks as your body betrayed how good it felt. your hips rocking against their hands, head thrown against mark’s shoulder.

“good fucking girl,” mark breathed, watching your face with that reverent hunger. “look at her, haechan. she’s crying and still begging for more.”

“she’s ours,” haechan said simply, dragging his tongue along your neck, tasting the salt of your tears. “no one else gets her like this.”

and then—as if coordinated—they both moved faster.

your moans cracked into a sob, and you grabbed for mark’s arms as you came again. hard. your body shaking against his, your vision going white around the edges.

“one more,” mark muttered, watching your pussy clench and flutter around his fingers. “you can give us one more, can’t you?”

“she can,” haechan said, now sucking a bruise into your shoulder. “she’s such a good little toy.”

you couldn’t even speak. just gasps, sobs, a whimper of please—though none of you were really sure if it meant please stop or please keep going.

“we’ll stop when you can’t remember your name,” mark whispered, fingers still deep inside you.

he pulled his fingers out of you with one last deep curl, just to watch the way your hips jerked from the sudden loss.

haechan crawled down, hand on your thighs, pressing you into the mattress as he dropped to his stomach in front of your core

"be still," he licked his lips and then his tongue was on you.

licking up everything—all of it—his spit mixing with their cum, slow and messy, like he was trying to taste every second of what they'd done to you. he groaned against your cunt, burying his face between your legs as you sobbed, so overstimulated you couldn’t decide whether you were moaning or crying.

mark brushed your hair out of your face with a hand that was far too gentle for how he’d just destroyed you. he leaned down, kissed your tear-slick cheek, and whispered, “you’re doing so good, baby. letting us use you like this.”

his voice dropped lower, mouth brushing your ear now. “you’re ours. you know that, right? nothing left for anyone else. ”

you nodded. your throat too raw, and lips too bruised to speak.

“she’s clenching again,” haechan called from between your thighs, laughing, breath hot against you. “she’s about to fucking cum on my tongue.”

and fuck—you did.

your whole body jolted violently, and mark had to kiss you to keep you from screaming out. you cried into his mouth, so wet, so wrecked, and still grinding back against haechan’s mouth.

“fuck,” haechan groaned, pulling back just enough to kiss the inside of your thigh. “you taste like a dream.”

“i need to fuck you again” mark said, shifting back behind you. “slow this time. deep. so you remember my cock after tonight.”

haechan didn’t argue.

he just moved, lips dragging up your thighs  as mark pulled your hips back up.

he slid into you again and you whimpered.

"breathe, baby," he whispered. "you're okay. i've got you."

haechan curled up in front of you, kissing your mouth now, slow and messy. his hand found your throat and he squeezed softly.

you looked up at him, saw his gaze flicker over your shoulder to where mark was moving behind you. and fuck if that look wasn’t hungry.

"you two gonna keep pretending this isn’t about more than me?" you whispered, voice raw but daring. “you’ve been dying to touch each other. do it.”

mark froze, cock still buried deep. haechan didn’t blink.

you rolled your hips enough to make mark gasp—and then you turned your head and said it again.

“touch him.”

haechan’s hand slid down slowly, fingers ghosting over your thigh first… then lower… until he reached between your legs and brushed mark’s cock where it was buried inside you.

"fuck," mark grunted, voice cracking slightly.

haechan smirked, leaned over your shoulder and whispered in mark’s ears, “do you like it, lee?”

he curled his fingers around mark’s cock, still moving in and out of you, and started stroking him.  touching you and him in the same stroke. mark groaned into your skin, grip on your hips tightening.

“don’t stop,” mark gasped, voice lower than you'd ever heard it. “fuck—don’t stop.”

you moaned too, completely overwhelmed now watching the two of them break for each other.

"who knew you were this needy?" haechan taunted.

"shut up" mark groaned, hips faltering.

haechan leaned forward again, brushing his lips against mark’s jaw.

“shut me up,” he said, soft and dangerous.

mark hesitated for a second and then their mouths crashed together.

it was brutal and desperate. they kissed over your back like they were fighting for dominance, like they were starving for it.

mark kept fucking into you as they kissed, pace getting rougher now, hips snapping with every gasp. haechan kept stroking you both, his fingers moving between your clit and mark’s cock, never giving either of you a break.

haechan broke the kiss first, panting, lips swollen. “she’s gonna come again,” he muttered, fingers rubbing harder. “fuck, she’s squeezing you so tight.”

“i’m close, too” mark groaned “i’m gonna—”

you came first, clenching around both haechan’s hand and mark’s cock. your whole body spasming as the orgasm slammed through you.

mark came soon after with a gasp, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you again. he only pulled out 

haechan didn’t stop touching you. didn’t stop kissing mark. until he’d wrung every drop out of both of you.

it was quiet for a moment.

both boys still half-tangled with you, one on either side. haechan’s mouth trailed down your body, licking over bruises he’d left earlier, until he settled between your thighs again. he kissed your inner thigh, then the other, lips dragging against sensitive skin, breathing in the scent of your ruined cunt like it was perfume.

“she’s still fucking soaked,” he muttered. “how are you still this wet?”

“because she knows what’s coming,” mark said, taking your hand and guiding it to his mouth. he kissed your fingers. then your wrist. then up your arm, slow and careful.

then he sat up and lifted your upper body into his lap, turning you around and cradling you against his chest as haechan started licking long, slow strokes up your pussy again.

your legs trembled, your hands dug into mark’s thighs. you weren’t just being eaten out, you were being devoured.

“you’re gonna take us both this time,” mark grunted into your ear. “not one at a time. both.”

haechan looked up, eyes gleaming.

“ever been filled in both holes, baby?”

your breath hitched. you couldn’t speak but your body said yes.

mark shifted behind you again, this time lining himself up lower. haechan moved between your legs, stroking himself slow, teasing the head of his cock through your slick folds.

“you ready?” haechan asked, breath hot against your mouth.

you nodded.

and then they were both pushing in at the same time.

one in your pussy, one in your ass.

and fuck—you lost your mind.

your mouth dropped open in a scream you didn’t even hear. you were full in the truest, filthiest sense of the word.

they groaned in unison, both of them stilling once they were fully buried inside you.

“holy fuck,” mark gasped. “she’s so tight like this—”

“don’t move yet,” haechan hissed, eyes fluttering shut. “fuck. she’s milking us.”

but you did move. you rolled your hips, whimpering, desperate for more friction. and then they started thrusting.

together.

deep, slow, alternating, syncing like they were choreographing the destruction of your sanity.

your body jolted between them with every stroke. you were moaning, begging, babbling things you couldn’t understand. their hands were all over you—mark’s on your breasts, haechan’s on your throat, their mouths kissing every inch of you they could reach.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” mark growled. “us… fucking you together.”

“she was made to take us like this.” haechan breathed, watching your eyes roll back. 

you didn’t just come this time. you broke. sobbing and clenching down on both of them as your orgasm hit like a bus. they didn’t even stop, they fucked you through it, fucked you through the twitching and the tears and the oversensitive spasms until you were just a mess of yesyesyes and pleasepleaseplease.

they came together. mark first, biting your shoulder, thrusts deep and hard. then haechan, with a strangled moan, spilling inside you with one final snap of his hips.

you didn’t know how long you were out—could’ve been minutes, could’ve been hours. the world felt muted. like your body had been peeled open and left raw in the best way. your limbs wouldn’t move right. your skin was still tingling. your chest rising slowly like every breath was relearned.

mark was the first to move. he didn’t speak, just rolled you onto your side gently, cradling your body lgently. he reached for the sheets, wiped between your thighs with careful strokes, even as your legs twitched and your whole body flinched at the contact.

“you alive?” mark asked softly.

you hummed. barely.

“good,” haechan said. “because imagine explaining this to the paramedics.” he kissed your shoulder, tongue dragging over the sweat there.

you laughed—more like a broken giggle—and they both chuckled too.

mark leaned in, brushed your hair back from your face. “you okay?”

you nodded, and when you whispered “yeah,” he kissed your temple.

“you need water, or—?”

“i need to feel you again,” you said.

he blinked, then smiled fondly.

haechan slid a hand up your stomach, resting between your breasts. “she’s addicted,” he whispered, and you could feel the grin in his voice. “she’s not even cleaned up and she’s already asking for more.”

you turned your head slightly. “so stop teasing me and touch me.”

mark’s fingers were already trailing back down your side. “not to fuck you again,” he said, “not yet.”

he looked at you softly, but serious. “we’re gonna clean you up.”

haechan slipped out of bed and disappeared for a second, then came back with a warm cloth. mark took it, and the two of them cleaned your body. wiping gently between your legs, kissing the insides of your knees. haechans tongue licked along your hip just because he wanted to.

“look at this mess,” he murmured, dragging the cloth through the mixture of their cum and yours. “we fucked you so good. you’re still dripping.”

you whimpered.

mark kissed your thigh. “we’ll fill you up again,” he promised. “after you rest. after we take care of you.”

“and when you wake up,” haechan added, crawling up beside you, “you’re getting marked again, so no one even thinks about touching you.”

┈─★

the first thing you felt the next morning was heat. not the kind that fades when the blankets shift. no, this was body heat. the weight of someone’s thigh tangled with yours. the press of a chest at your back. the warm exhale of breath across your neck.

your eyes blinked open slowly.

and both of them were still in your bed.

mark was behind you, arm slung over your waist, breath warm against your shoulder. haechan was in the front, legs tangled with yours and one hand resting against the underside of your breast like he’d fallen asleep mid-grope.

mark stirred first, pressing a slow kiss to the back of your shoulder. “morning,” he mumbled, voice deep and sleep-rough.

you hummed. “you stayed.”

“of course,” he said like it was obvious.

haechan groaned, stretching. his hand slid higher and squeezed your tit without even opening his eyes. “if i’d left, i would’ve had to jerk off in the dorm thinking about this,” he muttered. “no thanks.”

you laughed softly, body curling between them. “are you always this charming in the morning?”

mark chuckled. “only when we wake up next to a gorgeous girl.”

“mm,” haechan hummed, finally opening his eyes. “speaking of…”

he pushed the blanket back and looked you over like he was unwrapping a gift.

“what?” you asked, even though you knew exactly what.

mark leaned up on one elbow, gaze sweeping from your face to the marks on your neck, down to the faint bruises on your hips. his hand brushed them lightly, almost in awe.

“we did a number on you,” he murmured.

“yeah,” you said, voice light. “you gonna apologize?”

they both smirked.

“no,” haechan said, already moving to kiss down your chest. “we’re gonna do it again.”

[hyckstarz]

breaking the rival code | l.mk

pairing. rival!mark lee x afab reader

word count. 6.1k

genre. smut · enemies to lovers trope · humour

synopsis. Mark had a way of getting on your nerves, to the point you'd even considered shutting him up for good. However, your best friend eventually planted a seed in your head that fucking your rival, and breaking the unspoken code, would be enough to finally end the long-standing feud.

warnings. 18+ minors do not interact, fingering, use of pet name (baby), choking, oral (fem receiving), haechan as best friend and instigator

A/N. i had this buried in my drafts for months but it had me screaming into my own pillow whenever i read it so, it couldn't stay unpublished for long.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Mark Lee," she's fuming, as per usual. Eyebrows tightly knit and throwing daggers with her hard glare while Mark just laughs, "It's due next week, and you haven't even written up a plan?!"

Mark rolls his eyes, his glasses almost slipping down his nose, doodling absentmindedly in his notebook, "Relax, that's 168 hours of time to work on it, it's nothing."

She sinks back into her chair, crossing her arms in that arrogant way — as Mark would describe it, "Actually, it's less than 84 hours if you factor in sleep, other classes you have to go to, and fucking surviving. Mark, do you take anything seriously?"

Mark rubs his face in frustration, facing her, "It's the first year; none of this counts towards our grade," he goes back to doodling small Spider-Man caricatures but, as always, he can't resist having the last word, "And you're too serious, princess. Live a little."

Small things like that always set her off. She was aware of how she came across but, when it involved Mark, she only ever saw red. She somehow manages to calm herself down, realising they're in the campus library and already earning a few curious, judgemental stares.

"Mark...," she manages to whisper somewhat loudly, leaning in close enough for him to feel her minty breath against his skin, "Can we please get most of this done today? I'd very much like to be free of your presence."

Mark chuckled under his breath, his dark eyes slowly drifting over her subtle features, raising a brow in amusement — the weight of his gaze caused the hairs on the back of her neck to prickle. Finally, he gave in and pulled out his laptop. He began clicking through their assignment brief and taking notes down, surprising even her, who started doing the same. As English literature students, it was a given that they had to read a stack of novels and articles, even for an assignment worth 0% towards their final grade.

Yet even small victories in their relationship were rare. It was a miracle that they were somehow able to work through the tasks efficiently, though that moment was short-lived before they were at each other’s throats, with Y/N starting it again.

"Mark, we're meant to critically analyse, not describe. Do you have any working brain cells in that thick head of yours?" Her fingers twitched, as if to hold herself back from clenching her fists and knocking some ounce of sense into him.

He rolls his eyes in response, jaw hardening as he scowled at her, clearly not in the mood for their usual back and forth, "We need to have a synopsis of the texts, I don't know how else you expect me to include all of the relevant info without having a short paragraph in there."

She simply looks at him in disbelief, shaking her head as if he'd just said the most absurd thing ever, "Mark... do you really think we can afford a whole paragraph just on a summary?"

He just chuckles in response, clearly uncaring. She leaned forward, her fingers digging into the desk and turning white as she struggled to maintain her composure. Mark’s casual smile only fuelled her irritation, but she lets out a heavy sigh, judgy eyes flicking across his face.

"You're like those pretty dumb blondes; the only thing you've got going for you are your looks, sorry to say," she sneers, going back to taking notes, but she internally curses at herself for admitting she found him at least objectively attractive.

Mark pauses, head snapping to her, his eyes flicking over her features, trying to decipher what she'd just said, or if he'd even heard her correctly under the hushed whispers of the library. He spins the pencil in his hand, eyes narrowing at her as a smug expression tugs on the corners of his lips, "You think I'm good looking? I'm flattered."

Y/N gives him an exasperated glance, snorting at his sudden change in demeanour and sitting up to look at him straight on, "I know you took me for a fool, but a blind one too? Damn," she said with a sarcastic lilt.

When Mark doesn't respond, just a cocky smirk widening — his gaze intense — she feels her heart rapidly beat against her chest and, as a way to hide the effect he has on her, she rolls her eyes for the nth time that hour, clearing her throat and focusing back on her task, "If you weren't so annoying, or if you learnt how to shut your mouth and do things correctly, you'd have a lot more going for you," she sends him a glare, "But you don't, so your looks only take you so far, and that's below average in my books."

He mocks in response, "Wow, you read? How surprising."

This time, she couldn't hold herself back. Mark did have a way with getting under her skin, so well in fact, that it led to them being asked to leave the library, only furthering their frustration and anger towards one another.

It wasn't always like this, either. When Mark had first met her, he was a shy, slightly awkward teenage boy and, the first impression she had of him, was cute. He was incredibly sweet and outgoing; it was easy for him to make friends and that meant they easily got close too. The only problem was, they were so alike in all the wrong ways. He was just too competitive and stubborn, always aiming for the top, and so was she. It was only natural that friends turned to rivals, competing with one another over everything. With that being an understatement.

From whom could get to the cafeteria the fastest, to who could submit their assignment the earliest and get the highest grade? It was competition, after competition. Most would get exhausted after the first two or three, but for them, it was thrilling, though they'd never admit that to one another.

"I can't believe your loudmouth got us kicked out of the library," his jaw hardened as he met her intense gaze, "Can't you sit still and take comments with some sort of, I don't know, strength? Because clearly, you're so sensitive over such simple, meaningless words," He slings his bag over his shoulder, already walking off.

Only further proving his point, she chases after him, tugging at his arm so that he wouldn't get away.

"You're the one who can't let things go either, always needing to have the last word, what are you, a child?" she crosses her arms and nods her head with a questioning brow, as if to say, 'go on'.

Mark just scoffs, about to walk off before turning around, his hands moving in frustration as he glares down at her, "You- you're such a pain in the ass, you know that? You really know how to drive me crazy."

He's panting, frustration evident. But it was the way he was looking at her that threw her completely off balance. His narrowed eyes flicked to her lips, brows furrowed as though he were etching her features into his long-term memory. She felt her heart drumming in her chest.

Before she could respond, a familiar yet equally as annoying mutual friend of theirs appears, snickering at the pair and their usual quarrelling, "Jeez, can't you two just fuck already?"

"Shut the fuck up, Haechan" they both say in unison, tearing their gaze away from one another with a scowl.

Haechan only snorts, glancing between the pair with an amused brow, "Clearly there's some sexual tension that I'm interrupting here, it would explain why you look at each other like that," He leans in-between them, as if to reveal the biggest secret in history, "I bet you two dream about each other too — in, you know, that kinda way."

Mark just stands there, mouth agape and in disbelief at the absurdity Haechan was spewing, looking between the two. Y/N just scoffed, grabbing the man by his bag and pulling him away without so much of a word. Haechan waved a chaste goodbye to Mark as he was being dragged off to God knows where.

Someone was going to die today, and it was definitely Haechan.

It was quiet. Way too quiet. The coffee shop was empty, hence for the low whispers of the baristas in the far corner, and a cheeky Haechan sitting before her, happily drinking his iced tea after telling his two closest friends that they should fuck each other. She groans, letting her head fall into the palm of her hands.

Usually, this coffee shop was a place where she could find peace and solitude. It was bright, with large windows that let light in all throughout the day, creating a florescent streak of amber and pink through the thin stickers attached to the panels. The colour schemes could easily brighten one's day as whites and pinks peppered along the walls.

The foliage brought life to what would otherwise seem like a cold, simple design, and the bakery added a subtle hint of beige, creating a natural environment. But the best thing about any coffee shop, was the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee beans, and the sounds of the machine working, or even the quiet conversations. Though, sounds were non-existent today, except for her constant groaning, which started to bother her best friend.

"If you make one more frustrated sound, I'm leaving," he takes another sip of his cool drink, "Is it because of what I said earlier? Just know, I wasn't lying, that would definitely help you two."

She pulls her hands away, pursing her lips as she started twirling her straw, watching the milk mix with the coffee and caramel, "No, it's because I'm... I don't know, frustrated?"

Haechan glared incredulously, "Clearly."

"Not like that, I meant... I miss how Mark and I used to be, how we would laugh at silly jokes, or talk for hours without it having to turn into a competition, but now everything he says or does has a way of getting under my skin," She takes a sip of her drink, eyes twinkling at the taste, "He could just be sitting there, doing absolutely nothing, and I'd I just want to-"

"Want to what?" Haechan asks, ears perking up, waiting for a gotcha moment.

"Well, what I usually do." She shrugs, going back to her drink.

Haechan takes everything she says in, nodding his head slowly, "Anyway, it's sort of funny as Mark said the same kinda thing to me the other day...," Haechan takes a sip of his drink, whining when he finds it empty, "He said he missed the old you, or when you guys used to be friends."

She pauses, meeting her waiting friend’s gaze. Her brows furrow. Mark... missed how they used to be? But she doesn't say anything to Haechan, keeping her thoughts to herself.

The usual smug expression returns as he leans back in his chair, leg bouncing under the table out of habit as he crossed his arms behind his head, "Anyway, as I said, you need to get your frustrations out in other ways. You clearly have a thing for each other. The way you express it is a little... unconventional, but you're both immature, so I'm not surprised."

She simply looks at her friend in disbelief, lips parted as she gapes at him, to which Haechan only grins annoyingly at her. He also had a way with words, just like Mark, except he seemed to understand boundaries a lot better, and was chill enough to not want to fight back.

"What? Please tell me you two at least have moments of either flirting with each other or checking the other person out-"

"No." She scowls, shivering at the thought. Though, she couldn't help but remember the way he'd looked at her earlier, brushing off the thought, "It's hard enough to even look at him without wanting to strangle him."

"Okay, so you're into choking, got it." Haechan chuckles, nodding as if to make a mental note of it.

"No, I'm not into that! Whatever, look, I don't have a thing for him, so just drop it." She looks at him with a serious, intense gaze, as if to emphasise the fact she really didn't want to talk about this anymore.

Her friend only nods, putting his hands up in mock surrender, "Okay, just know Mark would definitely jump you if he had the chance — I mean, which guy would put up with your shit? No offence."

She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her drink in hopes it would be refreshing enough to block out her growing irritation, "Anyway, the sooner I get this assignment done, the sooner I can move on from this Mark topic."

She quickly pulls out her phone before Haechan could drop in another one of his grand ideas, finding Mark's contact and immediately sending him a text. She almost spat out her drink at how fast he had responded.

You: Let's just get this assignment done with. I don't feel like getting kicked out of yet another establishment, so just come over to mine tomorrow or something.

You: *sends her address*

Mark: Fun.

Mark: I'll be there around 4 if that works

You: 👍

She bit her nails anxiously, eyes glancing between the door and the clock on the wall - each tick of the hands signalled it was only getting closer to 4, which was when Mark said he would arrive.

That wasn't why she was anxiously boring holes into the clock, however. She could curse the heavens, the earth and the 12 Olympians, but instead, she chose to curse the lust demon himself, aka Haechan. She buried her head in her hands, tugging at the roots of her hair in frustration. She can't believe she dreamt of Mark last night for the first time and, it wasn't just any dream — which was the worst part. Why did her mind have to be so vivid and make Mark so incredibly sexy? She had no idea.

When a knock came from the door, she stood up a little too quickly, rushing to it and praying that Mark looked far from presentable than he had been in her dream. But he wasn't, of course. She'd never seen him in jeans before and the green hoodie was the cherry on top. She swallowed hard, peering up at him as he adjusted his glasses.

"Are you going to let me in?" He raised a brow, his dark eyes glancing over her features in suspicion, taking a quick, subtle glimpse at her plaid sweatpants and pink t-shirt that didn't do much to hide the outline of her bra. He swallowed hard, tonguing the inside of his cheek in annoyance yet, the only thing that swirled in his mind were thoughts of how fucking attractive she was without even trying.

His annoyed expression grounded her temporarily, falling back into her usual demeanour as she rolled her eyes and held the door open wider for him, "If I catch you slacking once, I'll kick your ass out of here."

Mark gives her a side eye, frowning before kicking his shoes off, "Are you trying to motivate me not to do the work?"

She laughs sarcastically, leading him to her room as she props herself on her bed, noticing Mark looking over her interior.

"I expected your place to be put together, but not drenched in pink," his gaze trailed over her shelf, taking note of the various photo frames and mini ornaments.

She chuckles under her breath, pulling out her laptop and notes, "What, too girly for me?"

He turns his gaze to her, a quiet silence envelops them for a moment, and she takes that time to admire him. She knew he was attractive — objectively — but never had she looked at him in that way. The kind of way that made her heart and mind race.

Mark finally straightens up with a shrug, sitting down on the edge of the bed and getting his things out as well.

It felt strange having Mark in her home. If it weren't for getting kicked out of the library, her apartment would have been the last place he would be at. Though, now seeing him sat almost politely at a respectable distance from her, typing away on his keyboard quietly, made it start to feel right somehow.

She opened their shared document, reading the notes he was typing up. Even though he tended to be a lazy ass — or a procrastinator, as he would call it — there was no doubt he had a way with words. When he really put his mind to something, he would always deliver quality work. At times, she'd look back on why they had turned rivals, or enemies, and then she'd see what a complete genius he was. Maybe it was always her. Maybe she was just jealous that, no matter how hard she worked, Mark would always be ten steps ahead.

"I wrote up all the notes," Mark's voice cut through her thoughts, "How far did you get?"

She turned back to her laptop, pursing her lips at the blank screen. When she took her time responding, Mark scrolled down the document to where her cursor was and sent her a deadpanned expression, "What did you say about slacking off...?"

She doesn't know whether to laugh or smack him, so she picks the secret third option and scowls, "I did more work than you yesterday."

"That's old news," he sighed, looking through their to-do list, "I thought you wanted to get this assignment done and dusted because... what was the reason again? Oh yeah, you wanted nothing to do with me."

She scoffs, sitting up as she points an accusatory finger at him, "Don't act like you don't feel the same way."

Mark clears out the already completed tasks on the list, colour coding the other bullet points to distribute the work evenly between them, "Oh I do, and I wonder why." He doesn't even spare her a glance.

"Go on."

"Maybe it's because you continuously bitch over every little thing, it's no wonder Haechan is the only friend you have and, it's probably because he's waiting for some kind of green light," Mark's bitter words reeked of jealousy as he spoke through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes.

"Excuse me?" She shrieks before she leans over the bed and grasps at his hoodie, his hand immediately grabbing her wrist, "That's too far, Mark, even for you."

He raised an unamused brow at her, fingers tightening on her wrists, yet she doesn't waver, "Maybe, but I'm sick of it. All you ever do is complain and treat me like some sort of idiot and, when I give you the same energy, I'm the problem."

His voice is tight, jaw hard as he doesn't break the eye-contact. She pulls him in closer, anger bubbling in the pit of her stomach, "What a joke, you're just as much of a problem as I am and, you know what? Maybe Haechan was right, maybe we need to fuck for us to finally pull our shit together."

The moment those words leave her lips, she regrets them. From up close, he was even more attractive that those words naturally came out. Mark's eyes widened comically and she could almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

His brows furrowed, "Wait, you’re serious? You’re actually suggesting that?" his voice carried a disbelieving tone despite his cheeks growing redder by the minute.

If it weren't for the dream she had last night, or that stupid green hoodie he was wearing right now, she would have laughed it off as a joke or even knocked him out in hopes he'd forget what nonsense she'd just spewed. However, all she could think about in that moment were his hands gripping at her plush thighs, spreading them apart as he lodged himself between her legs, his soft lips parting against hers desperately. She swallowed hard.

"Yes, I am suggesting that," she doubles down, the words more confident now. She knew she wanted him, even if he drove her bat-shit crazy. Even if he'd think she's bat-shit crazy.

It was almost laughable how wide Mark's eyes had gotten, his lips parted in shock, "you're fucking serious, Y/N?" This was too cruel of a joke from someone like Y/N. He knew she would rather curse him out than make absurd suggestions such as sleeping with each other. And the more he thought about it, on top of the intense gaze she carried, the more he believed she was being serious.

She leaned in, her warm breath fanning against his skin. She could smell his musky cologne — it was a scent she felt she could easily get addicted to, "I am serious, Mark," her big, doe eyes peered up at him through her lashes, "Hell, I even dreamt of you last night thanks to that blabby-mouthed Haechan."

Mark suddenly grows flustered, averting his gaze. She dreamt of him? His words practically came out like a croak from the nerves, "H-hey, that's a little..."

She raised a brow, waiting for him to continue his sentence yet he'd only grown quiet, his jaw clenched as he processed the situation. He felt his throat go dry and, the way she was staring at him made him feel breathless - a little too out in the open under her gaze. It was taking everything in him to hold back, but their shared history and his growing annoyance towards her kept him stuck in place.

"What? Mark, don't be a pussy," she scoffed. Despite her harsh words, they had rolled off of her tongue like honey, "Do you want this or not?"

Mark's head whips to her, his brows furrowed, "I am not...," the words faltered on his tongue as his hands came to rest behind her on the bed, his nose brushing against hers. He was way bigger than her, his arms caging her in, looming over her, "I'm not as much of a loser as you think I am, Y/N," the words were bitter; however, he felt like he was falling too deep.

Being this close to her, with her wide, surprised eyes staring back at him, her flowery perfume more prominent at the proximity, and her warm breath... He couldn't find it in him to deny it anymore, "Fuck, I do want this," he muttered, the whispered confession slipping past his lips before he himself could process the words.

At that, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, pressing his nose fully against hers, "I want this too." Her soft words drew him in like a moth to a flame and it felt like the string that held onto his sanity had snapped.

Mark pressed his lips to her glossy, pink ones that tasted like cherry, breathing in her flowery scent, to which she parted her lips against his in response. His hands gripped at the soft flesh of her waist, pulling her in impossibly close. He tasted minty, mixing with his musky cologne and it was like she couldn't think straight anymore, losing her grip on reality and, instead, losing herself in him. In Mark. Her supposed enemy and rival.

It didn't take long for her to pull him on top of her, her back falling against the mattress whilst her leg rode up his side, hooking over his hips. He trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of her neck, nipping at her skin and down the valley of her clothed breasts. She was going insane, and it was his fault, "Mark, take off my damn shirt already," she groaned in frustration, sitting up.

He didn't waste any time. Stripping off her shirt, he subtly admired her plush breasts which sat pretty in her lilac laced bra, barely leaving anything up to his imagination. As much as she got on his nerves, he couldn't deny the effect she had on him by being effortlessly gorgeous even as her brows were tightly knit. He pushed her back down onto the bed, planting his hands on either side of her head, "Are you always this demanding?"

"Only with you," she mutters, tugging at his hoodie impatiently, to which he chuckles, taking it off. She couldn’t help but gawk at him, sending him a glare for being more attractive than her dreams could ever do justice.

He kisses her again, his hand trailing down the side of her breasts, not giving her time to run her mouth. Then, his hand pulls the bra down, letting her breasts slip out as he cupped and kneaded the soft mounds, groaning into her mouth at how they fit perfectly in his hand. He rolled the nub between his fingers, grazing his thumb over them.

Mark kisses down her body, taking a nipple into his mouth — biting and tugging at it as his hand continued to twist the other between his thumb and index. He relished in the soft sounds that escaped her lips and the way she tugged at the locks of his hair.

He continued to move down her body, his finger hooking under the waistband of her sweatpants as he met her gaze, "I know you beat my ass over this, but you sure this is what you want?"

She deadpanned at him, "You just made out with my breasts, Mark. If I didn't want this, I would have stopped you there."

Mark just rolls his eyes in response, slipping her sweatpants down, "Could have just said yes."

She's about to retort when she feels his hand cup her, finger tracing the clothed slit of her pussy and she has to bite her lip to stop her from making a sound. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction so soon. Didn't want him to know just how badly she wanted him — more than she'd like to admit.

However, Mark was as stubborn and competitive as she was, and he wouldn't hold back until she gave in. He pushes her underwear to the side, leaning in so that his warm breath fanned against her sensitive folds, causing her to whimper.

'Fuck,' she thought.

Mark, without warning, slowly licks a stripe up her slit, his flat tongue drawing out a shudder from her — back naturally arching. Each time, he'd go in for more, slowly bringing up the pace. Her thighs clamped around his head, holding him hostage until he groaned and grabbed onto her plush thighs, pinning them to the bed; fingers leaving marks along her soft skin. Her own fingers grabbed at anything they could, from the sheets beneath her, to the healthy lock of hair on his head, letting them knot around her digits and tug with every wave of pleasure he had given her.

She could feel his cocky smirk as he sucked on her clit, enjoying every moment of her falling apart on his mouth. Falling apart for him. When he pulls away from her, she let's out a frustrated whine to which Mark only laughs at, "Open your mouth."

She sends him a skeptical look, "Fuck no."

Mark's patience wears thin, "Don't be a stubborn brat now."

Surprisingly, she obliged and he pushes his fingers past her plush, kiss-swollen lips. Her mouth suckles on the digits, tongue swirling around them, and he retracts his fingers with a pop.

"Fuck, your mouth really does have uses other than spewing insults and demands," he teases, voice low, tracing her entrance which had her letting out shallow breaths.

"At least it has more use than your fingers-" her words cut short when he pushes his finger in, palm pressed to her clit as he looks up at her with a 'you sure about that?' look.

It doesn't take long for Mark to add a second finger, curling them in search for the spot that would make her see stars. And then, he finds it, and she let's out a sharp gasp which only grows louder when his lips wrap around her clit, continuing his earlier ministrations of lapping at her folds like a man starved.

Just as her dreams failed in visualising just how attractive her nemesis was, it had also failed in expressing how utterly, impossibly, and irritatingly good he was with his hands, lips, tongue-

"Mark, fuck-!" She starts to tense under him, eyes pierced shut as she chases that feeling of ecstasy.

"I believe I'm getting there...," Mark chuckles, the vibration of his voice fluttering against her.

And, just as she starts to see the twinkling behind her eyelids, the light at the end of the dark tunnel, and a glimpse of the heavens, Mark pulls away, leaving her empty, wanting, and embarrassingly needy.

Forget Haechan, Mark was the number one man on her hit list.

In a second, he's over her again, cupping the back of her neck and lifting her slightly up to kiss her. She can taste herself on his tongue, feel the way his lips apply just the right amount of pressure to say he's here, and it's so soft, so gentle, so wanting — it was the perfect contrast, the perfect contradiction to the image she'd created in her mind of him. His thumb brushes against her jaw, fingers tangling in her hair, before he pulls away, forehead resting on hers as he breaths against her.

His eyes flicker open to gaze down at her; warm and oh so inviting. It felt like the Mark she once knew. The genuine, loving and calming person. Though his next words threw her completely off balance, and she was quick to retract her claims.

"I'm going to fuck that sexy, infuriating attitude out of you, baby," he lets the pet name draw out. In every other context, with any other person, she would have cringed at that word, but it felt so undeniably attractive coming out of his lips, that she wanted to hear him say it more than once.

Mark got up off of the bed, pulling out his wallet to fish for a condom that had been in there for God knows how long, chucking it on the bed next to her and kicking off his jeans and boxers in record speed. She barely had a millisecond to admire the sheer length of him before he was on her again.

His deep brown eyes kept their hold on hers and she could see a subtle hint of affection; the space between his brows crinkling in focus as he slowly pushed into her. His calloused fingers pressed along her waist, leaving white marks along her curves, while she could feel every ridge, vein and pulse of his cock.

When he bottomed out, she immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in impossibly close. Needing him closer to her. She could feel the rough planes of his body pressed to her soft ones as he started to rock against her. He gripped her thigh, pushing it further up so he could angle himself better, remembering the spot that had her seeing stars earlier.

Each time he'd hit that spot, she'd clench naturally, rocking her hips to meet his that had him softly groaning by her ear. He smelt so good, felt so good, was so good. She felt her mind start to fog up, jaw slack from the loud, erotic sounds that forced its way out from her throat. It was too much in the best possible way.

That wasn't as far as Mark would go though, he wouldn't stop at just good. He wanted best. His hand snakes up her body, gently wrapping around her neck — thumb pressed to her jaw — as he applied enough pressure to her pulse point. She knew then that maybe she did actually enjoy being choked or, at least, enjoyed anything Mark did.

She throws her legs around his waist, pulling him down, desperate to feel more of him, to reach her release she craved, pride long forgotten, "Mark... Mark, fuck- please..."

Mark pressed a sweet, uncharacteristic kiss to her cheek, "Please what, baby?" he brushed the strands away from her forehead, never halting his movements.

"Need more of you...," She could barely get the words out, but Mark knew exactly what she meant. Without time for her to process, he flipped her onto her stomach, pressing her face against the pillows, fingers tangled in her silky hair as he snapped his hips into her with more strength.

She could have sworn she started hallucinating seeing stars in the room from how deep he was reaching in this new angle, hitting her spot with added ease. Her glossy lips stayed parted against the pillows, drool staining the cotton case as she let out soft grunts.

Mark's head rolled back at the filthy sounds of her and how fucked out she looked. It made him want to carve this scene into the deepest part of his memory, "You're doing so good for me... So pretty like this."

His soft voice did not match the roughness of his fucking, but it made her clench around him, "C-close..."

Mark hummed, grabbing locks of her hair and tugging it back so that she arches against him, "Be a good girl and come all over my cock, then."

She nods eagerly, reaching behind him to grab at his hips, urging him to go faster, harder. She chased that release as if seeking closure from her pent up frustrations at Mark and hers usual bickering and challenges. She sits up to lean against him, knees pressed to the mattress and head rested on his collarbone — his own arms wrapping around her body. Finally, she came, body shuddering in his hold and, at the feel of her convulsing around his length, Mark bit her neck, muffling his sweet sounds as he followed suit.

They stayed like that for a while, panting, hair sticking to their foreheads. She wouldn't be close to exaggerating by saying this was the best sex she'd ever had, but she would also blame that on the sheer tension they carried for years around one another.

When Mark slips out of her, she fully expects him to make some usual smart comment, but he only pulls her with him as he lay in her bed, keeping his arms around her, "Who knew we'd be so compatible?"

She snorts, "I can name at least one person," she thinks of her best friend, the whole reason this night even happened and speeding up the process between them.

Mark smiles, snuggling into her and letting out a soft sigh, feeling sleep catching up to him, "I hope this isn't just a one time thing, though," he says suddenly with a soft voice, "you don't know how long I wanted this for. Wanted you. It drove me insane trying to be... I guess, respectful and casual about it all."

She sat up, turning to look down at him with a playful look of disbelief, "I call bullshit, you weren't respectful about nothing. Not that I'm complaining, it's attractive seeing you annoyed."

Mark rolls his eyes, smirking at her, his cockiness returning, "I knew you found me more than just objectively attractive, you're down bad."

She easily admits it, "Yeah, I am. But you're in way deeper for asking Haechan for advice of all people."

Mark immediately sits up, his face pale from the shock despite his cheeks being flushed, "Dude- Wait, what?"

"We're on dude terms now after you fucked an outline of my body into this mattress?" she scoffs, her crude words making Mark increasingly more flustered than he already was, "The choking kinda gave it away. I just know Haechan threw that in conversation with you."

Mark laughed sheepishly, pulling her into his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple, "Guilty as charged. Though, I'm proposing we get back at his arrogant ass by not telling him a thing. We'll slowly drop hints to mess with him a little — see how long it takes for him to catch on."

"I'm in," She giggles, feeling sleep overtake her as she nestled into Mark's chest.

Before today, neither of them would have imagined that fucking each others rival would be the secret to finally ending the long-standing feud and breaking the rival code.

© hyckstarz

[luviestarz]

mark lee fic recs!

⪩⪨ Operation: First Kiss - @ncityrave (Mark turns to his friends for help to build up the courage for his relationship's first kiss.)

⪩⪨ Sunday Kind of Love : Frat Mark - @smileysuh (Mark is fine with having a crush on the girl in the library. He’s fine watching her from afar. And he’s fine with never speaking a word to the girl who he spends many nights chasing in his dreams. But fate, and a few nosey frat brothers, think Mark would be much better if he was forced to talk to the cute girl from the library that he can’t seem to get out of his head.)

⪩⪨ tis the damn season - mark smau - @najaemism (in which your ex-boyfriend comes back to your hometown—and he wants to talk to you.)

⪩⪨ Delphinium - @ncteez (It wasn’t intentional. You don’t even know why you cared that he didn’t believe in pre-marital sex, but it didn’t stop you from arguing with him about it. You didn’t intend to win the argument either. Then again, he kind of let you.)

⪩⪨ 9:10 PM - @neochan (possessive! mark)

⪩⪨ WITH YOU | MK.L - @sehunniepotwrites (There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.)

⪩⪨ spidey boy ; 이민형 - @martiniblues (mark has tried to hide his secret identity from you for as long as possible, to keep you safe, of course. little does he know that you’ve untangled his web of lies long ago and will do anything in your power to get him to admit it. just when you've had enough of him lying to you, he ends up getting caught in the act trying to save your life.)

⪩⪨ eyes on me. (m.l) - @mrkis (mark wants you to keep your eyes on him as he pleases you.)

⪩⪨ GOLDEN HOUR. | L.MK - @onyourhyuck (You’re a waiter and Mark Lee the local biker and infamous bad boy loves the eggs your diner makes, but now he wants a taste of you.)

⪩⪨ madly in love - mark lee - @p0ckykiss (mark had always been the hopeless romantic type)

⪩⪨ it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l - @yojeongin (all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.)

⪩⪨ Pretty Boy. (m.l) - @ncteez (Mark’s favorite thing to do is sit alone at the library and enjoy the knowledge that his university offers. In contrast, your favorite thing to do is go to parties and enjoy as much chaos as possible. However, upon realizing your grades have dropped drastically due to this lifestyle, you have no choice but to approach Mark for help. or the one where your new favorite thing to do is seduce the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met and watch how desperate he gets for you.)

⪩⪨ gelato | lmk - @hazyhae (a high slip up cost you mark lee years ago, and you’ve spent years burying your memories of him ever since. the universe has other plans for you when your old friend starts a new career, smoking his way back into your life.)

⪩⪨ ꒰ 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ꒱ 이민형 - @loserlvrss (one thing about your boyfriend, mark, is that he would always take care of you — even if you were annoyingly drunk — and he was embarrassingly in love)

[cbeargyu]

virgin's debut

A friendship can’t be ruined by having sex… can it?

⊹₊⋆ pairing: best friend!haechan x fem!reader x love interest!jaehyun (slight)

⊹₊⋆ warnings: angst, fluff, smut, best friends to lovers trope, protected sex, unprotected sex (use protection pls), fingering, making out, nudes, slowburn, suggestive redaction, mild cursing, reader is a virgin lol, haechan isn't, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance.

⊹₊⋆wc: 18,3K

READ THE PREVIEW [HERE]

Two weeks later

haechan sighed again, his chest heavy as he collapsed onto the couch. With both hands, he covered his face, fingers digging into his skin, trying to block out the past two weeks.

hyuck didn’t understand why there was this twisted mess of emotions swirling in his stomach, why his thoughts were so scattered, a jumble of "what ifs" and "should I's".

it had been two weeks since you made that insane proposition to him. haechan hadn’t talked much since then, just the occasional texts letting each other know when they’d left or entered the building they both lived in. the topic hadn’t come up, and you hadn’t pressured him either. but, god, it haunted him.

it was unthinkable. his values just wouldn’t allow it. sleeping with his best friend? never crossed his mind. but you—you weren’t just anyone. you’d been inseparable since high school. your sense of humor matched perfectly, and everyone knew the two of you were a damn force together. their friends noticed the bond, the way they both seemed to fit like puzzle pieces, always there for each other, even when they fought. like siblings, but with none of the blood ties.

that word, "siblings"—it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was strange that others saw them two like that. but they were okay with it. there were boundaries in their relationship, and crossing them was unforgivable.

of course, you were angelic. your bubbly personality and constant jokes made you irresistible. physically, you were gorgeous, though you were a bit shorter than him—way too short, maybe. you had black hair and an odd but cute bangs just above your eyebrows, something he liked to tease you about.

and yeah, you’d catch anyone’s eye. he wasn’t gonna lie—he’d had a crush on you when he first met you in high school. but over time, that romantic attraction faded as your friendship grew stronger.

maybe it was also the way you were so open with your thoughts—no filter, no shame—that when you asked him about sleeping together, it sounded completely natural to you. to him, though? It was a punch to the gut, a cold shower, a slap to the face. he was spinning, disoriented, trapped in what felt like a twisted fantasy—or maybe a nightmare.

for him, sex wasn’t a taboo subject. he’d lost his virginity at 17 to one of his many girlfriends, and talking about it was casual. hell, haechan didn’t even hold back when discussing the details of his past experiences with you. he’d even described how he’d "done it" in vivid detail—like it was nothing.

but you? you were different. you had dated three guys since high school, but none of those relationships lasted more than two months. so, you didn’t exactly know what it was like to be in a serious, long-term relationship. snd sex? It didn’t seem like a necessity in your life—at least not until now.

“I mean, when you’re dating someone romantically and nothing happens, i’d call that a win,” you said, casually munching on a slice of lemon tart.

haechan furrowed his brows, taking a sip of his coffee. “explain that.”

“it’s simple,” you shrugged. “because if they haven’t seen you naked, you can run into them on the street and not have to worry about that bastard seeing your ass.”

heck couldn’t help but laugh at your reasoning. “right, totally.”

you both chuckled, agreeing on that one. but he also knew, deep down, it wasn’t that simple for him. not anymore. he couldn’t ignore what was bubbling beneath the surface.

haechan felt a buzz in his pocket. his phone. the first class of the day was about to start, and he had to rush if he didn’t want to be late. he lived close to campus, just a five-minute walk, but the class was on the other side of the building.

but this situation? it was messing with his head so much that he couldn’t fall asleep until 3 AM these past two weeks. he grabbed his backpack and keys, about to head out when his phone buzzed again.

it was you. a message: “i’m heading to class, just leaving my apartment.”

haechan froze. he hadn’t expected you to text him now. his hand gripped the doorknob, but he didn’t open it. the thought of seeing you right now made his heart race. he wasn’t ready. not yet. he couldn’t just pretend like everything was fine.

"shit... y/n, what were you thinking?"

he sighed deeply. what was this? haechan could hear his own voice in his head, his thoughts like an endless storm. he couldn’t stop thinking about you—about what you had said, and about everything that had changed in such a short time. his stomach twisted. what would happen if he saw you now? could he face you? could he even be the same around you after what you had suggested?

he shook his head, hoping to clear his thoughts. He didn’t have the answers, but he knew one thing: this wasn’t going to be easy.

haechan let out a deep sigh, adjusting his scarf around his neck before stepping out of his apartment. he tried to calm himself, convincing himself that he could handle whatever came next. as if nothing had happened. as if he could just brush it off and pretend it hadn’t been weighing on him for the past two weeks.

but every time he thought about it, it made his chest tighten. that proposal of yours. the way you had looked at him, so casually, as if it were no big deal. he couldn’t get it out of his mind. he had always been the life of the party, the one to make jokes and laugh things off. but this—this was different. it gnawed at him like an insistent itch he couldn’t scratch, a question with no answer.

he made his way to campus, each step seeming faster than the last, but his thoughts were tangled in a mess of confusion and frustration. you hadn’t seemed bothered. if anything, you had acted like it was just another conversation. you hadn’t even tried to talk to him about it again, hadn’t pressured him. but that only made it worse. the silence between you both was deafening. you had sent that message, but it wasn’t the same. it was as if you had moved on without even thinking about it, while he was still stuck in the same place, drowning in his thoughts.

it was absurd. he was known for being the carefree one, the one who didn’t let anything get to him. but now? now he was a mess. the more he tried to convince himself that it was no big deal, the harder it was to believe it. you had said it so easily, like it was a joke, and yet it had shattered something inside him. the truth was, he didn’t know how to look at you anymore. he didn’t know how to face you after that. how could he? after everything?

haechan shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. his footsteps carried him toward the building, and the closer he got, the more his anxiety grew. he couldn’t avoid it forever. he’d have to see you eventually. the communication department wasn’t that big, and it seemed like the entire campus would lead him straight to you.

as he reached the entrance of the building, his alert system kicked in. you were probably inside already. and damn it, the thought of running into you—now, after everything—felt like a punch in the gut. you hadn’t even mentioned it again, hadn’t tried to force a conversation. yet he could feel it. the tension. the distance. how had it gotten to this? why did he feel so… disconnected?

he stopped for a second, hand resting against the doorframe, trying to breathe. but it was like everything had changed. nothing was simple anymore. he had been your best friend for so long, but now? now it felt like he was walking on eggshells, unsure of what would break first.

“hey.”

a light punch to his back snapped him out of his daze, and the blood immediately drained from his face. that voice—he couldn’t mistake it, not even if a million voices tried to mimic it. His breath hitched, and he turned around so fast it almost hurt.

there you were. small, as always. a knitted beanie sitting snug over your head, that— ridiculous—fringe barely brushing the tops of your brows, framing your delicate face in a way that made his throat dry. a long grey coat hung from your shoulders, swallowing you slightly, and your black boots clicked softly against the floor. everything about you looked… normal. the way you looked at him, the way you smiled, even the casual punch to his back.

physical contact.

that word echoed in his head like a siren. he quickly shook the thought away, locking his focus on the paper Starbucks bag dangling from your left hand. maybe you’d stopped by the café on the way. maybe you ordered delivery. maybe someone gave it to you. maybe—god, he needed to stop. the hamster in his brain was doing flips, and he wanted to knock some sense into himself.

you held the bag out toward him.

haechan just stared at it for a second, until you raised your eyebrows, shook it again, and snapped, “are you gonna take it or what?! geez, i brought it for you and you’re just standing there looking at it like an idiot.”

your expression twisted in mock annoyance, brows curved upward—but oddly, he felt the tightness in his chest ease a little.

reluctantly, haechan reached out and took the bag, brushing his fingers against yours for a second too long. he tried not to react, but his mind was a chaotic storm. He couldn’t help but look at you—really look.

had you always looked like this? that coat hugged your waist just enough. the shape of your figure was something he never let himself notice before. and your chest… jesus. it wasn’t like you’d suddenly changed, but it felt like someone had wiped the fog off his glasses. He was seeing you differently. entirely.

and that terrified him.

he lowered his eyes quickly, too aware of how warm his ears were getting.

“thanks,” he mumbled, voice a little hoarse.

“no problem,” you replied, glancing around casually. “i figured you might skip breakfast again, so…”

you trailed off with a small shrug, stuffing your hands into your coat pockets. haechan tried to smile, but his stomach was tangled in impossible knots.

haechan took another deep breath as he tried to collect himself, shifting the weight of the Starbucks bag from one hand to the other. he looked at you, trying to ignore the pull in his chest—the sudden awareness of every little detail about you. there was a tension he couldn’t shake off, something that sat heavy in his stomach.

you seemed to notice his distracted state and leaned against the wall, your usual easygoing posture, the same as always, except now, he couldn’t stop noticing how you looked in that oversized coat and those boots. he was spiraling again, caught in the thought of you.

“so…” you broke the silence, “i’ve been kind of swamped lately. working on this branding project for a client. it’s been a pain, though. my computer decided to die on me right when I needed it most.”

haechan raised an eyebrow, his mind snapping back to reality. “really? you didn’t tell me about it. why didn’t you ask for help? I mean, i know a thing or two about fixing computers. I could’ve helped you.”

you shrugged, a small, nonchalant smile playing at the corners of your lips. “nah, i called taeyong instead. he’s better with that stuff.”

there was a sharp tug in haechan’s chest. he hadn’t expected that. the knot in his stomach tightened, a wave of discomfort washing over him. taeyong? really?

he tried to laugh it off, but there was something bitter in his tone as he asked, “taeyong? why him? i thought you knew I was good with that kind of stuff.”

“yeah, well,” you quipped with a raised eyebrow, “taeyong just happened to be the first one I thought of. besides, he’s pretty quick with tech stuff.”

haechan’s smile was tight, and his stomach churned. he told himself it was nothing. he was being stupid. but why didn’t you ask him? he had always been there when your tech failed. it felt… weird. almost like you didn’t need him anymore. but, of course, he didn’t voice any of that. instead, he played it off, trying to act casual.

“sure, sure,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. he was so not handling this well. the thought of you asking someone else for help left him unsettled, and he hated how much it bothered him. It was irrational, but he couldn't shake it.

you noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor, the way he pulled back just a little. your smile softened as you leaned forward slightly, breaking the silence again.

“hey,” you said gently, “i’m sorry if it upset you. it wasn’t meant to make you feel left out, really.”

haechan quickly looked up, trying to look unfazed. “nah, it’s fine. I mean, it's not like i’m the only one you can ask for help, right?” he joked, but there was an edge to his voice that didn’t quite match the tone of his words.

you raised your eyebrows, a knowing look in your eyes. “you’re acting like a total prude right now,” you said, a smirk forming. “didn’t you used to tell me all the crazy stuff you did with jang chanmi back in high school? and now the topic of helping a friend with a computer is freaking you out?”

haechan blinked, taken aback. the mention of chanmi, especially in the context of your teasing, was enough to snap him out of his spiraling thoughts. he groaned, running a hand through his hair, trying to laugh it off. “well, that was different, okay? that was high school stuff.”

you chuckled, leaning back against the wall, clearly amused by his discomfort. “oh, come on. don’t tell me you’re too shy to talk about tech problems now. you used to explain every position you tried with her—like it was a lesson in geometry or something.”

haechan let out an exasperated sigh, not sure whether to be embarrassed or grateful for the way you were managing to cut through the tension. he couldn’t stop the blush creeping up his neck, and he cursed under his breath. of all the people, you had to be the one to make him feel like a damn fool.

“well, that was different, okay? It’s... it’s not like i’m comfortable talking about that stuff with you anymore, alright?” he almost winced at his words. the last thing he wanted was to make it sound like he couldn’t be himself with you.

you tilted your head slightly, your tone playful but with a hint of mischief. “don’t worry, though. I just asked taeyong to help with the computer. i didn’t make the same proposal to him that i made to you.”

haechan’s eyes went wide. he froze, his face instantly flushing. did you really just say that? the sudden wave of heat rushing to his face felt like he was on fire. his brain scrambled for words, but all he could manage was a surprised, “wait, what?”

you laughed softly, clearly enjoying the effect you had on him.

“you’re scared i’m gonna bring it up, aren’t you?”

“what? i—no, i’m fine,” he said too quickly, almost defensively. “just tired. you know, early class. cold outside. normal stuff.”

you didn’t say anything right away. just looked at him with that calm gaze of yours, the one that could read people like open books.

that hit him harder than expected. he flinched. swallowed. you tilted your head slightly.

“it’s okay,” you said, voice even. “if it made you uncomfortable… we don’t have to talk about it. ever. i’m not gonna ambush you or corner you or expect anything.”

haechan blinked. your tone was so mature, so measured—like you’d thought about this. like you knew what it had done to him.

“it was dumb of me,” you continued with a small smile. “or maybe not dumb, just… bold. and i get it, you didn’t sign up for that. so, if you want to forget it ever happened, consider it forgotten. clean slate.”

he didn’t know what to say. a hundred emotions jostled in his chest, fighting for space. gratitude. relief. guilt. and something else entirely—something heavier and harder to name.

because despite everything, despite the panic and confusion and awkward silences, you were still here. talking to him. offering him coffee. smiling at him like you always did.

but something had changed. he saw it in the way he noticed your lips when they moved. in the way his eyes lingered a beat too long on the curve of your body. in the way his mind kept circling back to that question you’d asked two weeks ago.

and the worst part?

haechan didn’t know if he wanted to go back to before.

before everything had shifted. before he started noticing all these things about you—things he had never allowed himself to see. he wasn’t sure if it was fear of the unknown or something else entirely, but the thought of things returning to how they were felt… difficult.

“anyway,” you said, standing up from the railing and brushing your hands off as if to clear the air between you. "i’ll see you later. don’t overthink it, alright?"

the casual way you said it made his chest tighten. he could feel that something was still unspoken, that there was more you weren’t saying, but he didn’t press. you were good at hiding what you truly felt, always had been.

haechan tried to push the conversation out of his mind as he entered his class on media studies. he sat down, pulling his notes in front of him and attempting to focus, but his thoughts were all over the place. his brain kept circling back to your words—had you meant everything you said? Was it really that simple for you?

the ice-cold americano you’d brought him sat on the edge of his desk. Its perfect arrangement, just the way he always liked it, made his chest tighten for reasons he couldn’t explain. he watched as droplets of water gathered on the glass, slowly tracing their way down to pool at the bottom.

he was distracted. but even more than that, he was feeling something he couldn’t quite name. his gaze wandered over the cold surface, the way the water clung to the glass—his mind drifting to you. to your smile. to the way your voice had lingered in his thoughts.

he imagined, for a moment, what it would be like if those droplets were slipping along your skin instead. He didn’t want to think about it, but his mind had other plans. every thought that surfaced seemed to lead back to you—the curve of your lips, the way you had looked at him just before leaving.

his pulse quickened, a wave of heat rising to his face. he snapped back to reality, but the blush was already creeping up his neck. "what the hell am i doing?" he muttered under his breath, quickly looking down at his notes again, trying to focus. his mind refused to cooperate. why was he thinking about this now? why was his body reacting like this?

he could feel the tension rising, like a knot tightening in his stomach. he had never been this aware of you before—not like this. and the worst part was, he didn’t know how to stop it.

you buried your face in your hands, heart racing, panic rising in your chest. what had you done?

the proposal you made to haechan wasn’t random—not by a long shot. It came from somewhere raw, impulsive, and aching. you’d convinced yourself he would say yes. no hesitation. no second thoughts. that’s what your friends told you, right?

"guys are easy. especially when it comes to sex. they’re always down," yeri had said with a laugh, trying to encourage you. “come on, it’s haechan. he jokes about that stuff all the time.”

and maybe that was the worst part. because you believed her. you judged your best friend through a lens of assumption, reducing him to some stereotype, thinking he’d just say yes because he was a guy. because he was him.

but he didn’t.

and now you knew—you had judged him so, so wrong. haechan wasn’t like the guys in those stories your friends always told. he wasn’t thoughtless. he wasn’t careless. he was kind. and considerate. and the look on his face after your question… you could still see it. confused. hurt. maybe even disappointed. not because you asked, but because he didn’t know how to respond without breaking something between you.

the guilt clawed its way up your throat.

you hadn’t asked him just for the sake of it, either. it wasn’t some random experiment. it was desperation. because ever since last fall, ever since he came into the picture, something in you had changed.

jung jaehyun.

a senior in the visual arts department. tall, graceful, and unfairly good-looking—like he’d walked straight out of a perfume ad in a fashion magazine. chiseled jawline, smooth voice, perfect smile. the kind of man who turned heads in every hallway he walked through. girls whispered about him constantly—rumors, fantasies, stories that may or may not have been true. he was confident, magnetic, dangerous in that way only people who know they’re desired can be.

and of course, you weren’t immune.

you saw him at a few parties, caught glimpses of him sketching in the studio, his sleeves rolled up and headphones in, and felt a pull you didn’t fully understand. it wasn’t love. It wasn’t even a crush. it was curiosity. lust. a hunger you didn’t recognize as your own until it became too loud to ignore.

your friends told you to go for it. "just hook up with him," they said. "get it over with." but you couldn’t. you didn’t have the experience, the confidence, the… proof that you could be the kind of girl someone like jaehyun might want.

so you turned to the only person you trusted. the only one who made you feel safe, unjudged, seen.

haechan.

and now you’d hurt him.

you hadn’t just crossed a line—you’d shattered the trust he’d always given you so freely. all because you were afraid. because you wanted to prove something. because you thought he’d just say yes.

but he didn’t.

now you sat in the middle of your typography and composition class, surrounded by the soft clatter of keyboards and the low hum of your professor’s lecture, your laptop open in front of you and your adobe illustrator file untouched. letters floated on your screen in random positions, but your brain couldn’t form a single coherent thought. you weren’t even sure what the assignment was supposed to be.

your body was there—but your mind was somewhere else entirely. caught in the swirl of embarrassment, regret, and confusion. a storm of emotion you didn’t know how to calm. all you could think was: what have I done?

it had been a week since that conversation. on the surface, everything seemed fine—like a reset button had been pressed. you and haechan still exchanged jokes, shared snacks, and sat next to each other in class. but underneath the laughter and casual glances, there was a strange hollowness, like the two of you had become actors reciting old lines in a play that didn’t fit anymore. robotically pretending the elephant in the room didn’t exist, even though its shadow loomed over every interaction. after all, everything had already been said, hadn’t it?

still, something was off.

haechan hadn’t hooked up with anyone since then. it wasn’t for lack of trying—he’d gone out, flirted, danced—but each time, his mind wandered back to you. and it wasn’t just idle thoughts. no, it was worse.

every night that week, he'd woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, heart racing, and a painful hardness straining against his boxers. dreams of you—wearing almost nothing, bent in suggestive positions, whispering filthy things in his ear, inviting him to taste you, to touch you—played on a loop in his subconscious. but right when he was about to finally reach you, melt into you, he’d wake up frustrated and breathless. left with no choice but to slip his hand under the waistband and relieve the aching pressure. for serotonin. for oxytocin. for sanity.

now, it was saturday night and he was stuck at work.

the burger place was dead quiet. maybe it was the cold snap that had settled over the city, keeping everyone snuggled up in their homes instead of venturing out for greasy fast food. Haechan didn’t mind, really. he was sick of putting on his fake retail voice—“welcome! Fries with that?”—and dealing with people who didn’t say thank you. right now, he was working the closing shift, wearing the stiff black uniform cap and flipping patties that hissed on the flat top grill. the whole place smelled of grilled beef, fryer oil, and cheap pickles. his coworkers were goofing off while mopping the floor and stacking chairs, and haechan, while half-listening to their jokes, was just counting the minutes till he could clock out and go back to bed.

that was when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

unknown number.

haechan hesitated. he barely ever answered unknown numbers, but something in his gut told him to pick up.

“hello?”

“HAECHAN!”

a girl’s voice. loud, panicked. He blinked.

“…who is this?”

“it’s seojung—y/n’s friend. you probably don’t remember me. we met, like, once.”

oh. right. you had sent him the numbers of your friends months ago, just in case. he’d never saved them.

“yeah, uh—what’s up?”

“it’s y/n,” she said quickly.

the emergency button in his brain went off.

“what happened? is she okay?! did something happen to her?”

“well—kind of?”

apparently, you’d gone out for a girls’ night. a little bar in the city downtown. everything was fine, until you’d gotten verydrunk. so drunk, in fact, you couldn’t even hold your head up, slurring nonsense, sobbing into seojung’s shoulder.

haechan grabbed his jacket before she even finished explaining.

“she kept saying… uh, really weird stuff,” seojung added nervously. “like—please don’t be mad, okay?—but she was screaming in the middle of the street that she was gonna die a virgin because her own best friend refused to help her.”

haechan stopped dead in his tracks, blinking in disbelief. “she said what?”

“i know! i was like, girl, stop embarrassing yourself! but she kept going. she even tried to climb on a statue to do a dramatic monologue or something, it was chaos.”

the line went quiet for a second.

“anyway,” seojung continued, “we can’t take her to the dorms—they don’t let us bring people in after curfew, and she’s way too far gone to be alone. you’re the only person she might listen to. can you come get her?”

“i’m on my way,” haechan said without hesitation, already sprinting out the back door. he didn’t even clock out. his coworkers just watched in stunned silence as he bolted into the freezing night air, hoodie half-zipped, hair disheveled, heart pounding.

he didn’t know exactly what he’d find when he got there.

but part of him was already bracing for it.

despite the cold weather, you had decided to wear a short velvet dress, sheer black tights, and an oversized puffer jacket that looked hilariously disproportionate on you—but also kind of cute. haechan blinked twice when he realized the jacket was his. the one he’d been looking for since last week. seeing you in it made his chest do something strange, tight and warm, like a coil winding in his ribs.

you looked disoriented, your makeup slightly smudged, your eyes glassy but still sparkly. your long legs peeked out from under the hem of the dress, knees wobbling as you leaned heavily on seojung for support. Behind her were yeri and jimin—both trying to look casual but clearly avoiding haechan’s gaze.

“sorry for calling so suddenly,” seojung said with an awkward smile, shifting nervously on her feet. “we didn’t know who else to call…”

“she just kept saying your name,” yeri added, crossing her arms.

“she’s been… emotional,” jimin muttered, eyes darting to the side. “also—sorry for… earlier stuff.”

the three girls looked anywhere but at haechan. there was something stiff in the air, a subtle frost behind their polite words. they knew what had happened. they knew he’d rejected you.

“thanks for looking after her,” haechan said simply, ignoring the tension as he gently took your arm. you mumbled something about “fuck friendship” and “i’ll die a virgin anyway,” making all three girls wince in embarrassment.

after quick goodbyes, they left hurriedly. haechan helped you into a cab, the inside warm and dimly lit, smelling faintly of peppermint and old leather.

“address?” the driver asked.

haechan rattled it off. the driver glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled.

“cute couple,” he said.

“oh—we’re not—” haechan began, but the man cut him off.

“young love. must be nice,” he chuckled. “leaving work in the middle of your shift to take care of your drunk girlfriend. that’s real devotion, son.”

haechan opened his mouth to correct him again, but then—

“HE REJECTED ME!” you suddenly shouted, head lolling dramatically to the side. “I asked him to have sex with me and he SAID NO.”

yhe cab fell into a stunned silence.

“…ah,” the driver finally said. “one-sided love, then.”

haechan wanted to crawl out of the moving car and disappear into the road. yhe driver shook his head sympathetically.

“you’re making a mistake, boy,” he said gravely. “a pretty lady like this? she won’t wait forever. you two already look like a couple. all that’s missing is the kiss.”

haechan glanced down at you, now slumped against his side, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. your makeup was a mess, your breath reeked of gin and lime, and you were clutching the hem of his jacket like it was your last lifeline.

and somehow, even like this, you looked heartbreakingly beautiful.

haechan stepped out of the taxi and paid the driver, the man's words echoing in his head like a song stuck on repeat. “you’re letting a good girl slip away…” he shouldn’t care what some stranger thought, but there was something about the way the guy said it — confident, certain — that made the sentence stick like honey to the roof of his mouth.

he turned around just in time to see you stepping out of the cab in your short dress, sheer tights hugging your legs, and a massive oversized jacket drowning your frame. his oversized jacket.

his breath caught a little. you looked both sexy and soft — long, graceful legs out in the cold, but your face flushed from alcohol and framed by the collar of his jacket. somehow, even in that state, you looked... perfect.

“you know where we are, right?” he asked gently, offering you his hand.

you nodded lazily, squinting at the familiar entrance of your apartment complex. but instead of walking toward it, you turned to him, a sly, sleepy smile playing on your lips.

“i don’t wanna go to my apartment,” you said, voice low and vaguely suggestive.

haechan blinked. “you need to sleep. you’re drunk.”

“i don’t wanna go to my apartment,” you repeated, this time slower, like you were daring him to challenge you. “i lost my keys.”

“you what?” his voice cracked as he stared at you in disbelief. “where the hell are you gonna sleep then?”

you tilted your head, your eyes glinting under the streetlight. “with you.”

silence.

haechan’s mouth opened slightly, the color rushing to his face like fire. he stammered, trying to find the words — to remind you of your promise, of how you said you'd drop this whole thing and start over.

but before he could say a word, you leaned forward with a groan and threw up directly into a nearby bush.

“oh, shit—” he muttered, rushing to hold you. he gathered your hair, gently rubbed your back, whispering reassurances under his breath. “okay, okay, it’s fine… just let it out…”

eventually, you straightened up, eyes glassy, cheeks damp from the cold wind. he sighed and wrapped an arm around you, leading you toward his place — your weight half-slumped against him.

inside, the warmth of his small apartment wrapped around you both. he carefully sat you on the couch and disappeared into the kitchen, filling a glass of water and setting a tea kettle on the stove.

you watched him in silence for a moment before breaking it. “i know what i said,” you murmured. “About letting it go. About forgetting. but i can’t. i literally can’t.”

he froze, slowly turning toward you.

“i feel like a hormonal teenager,” you laughed bitterly, wiping your mouth. “I keep thinking about you. about what i asked you. about what it would be like.”

“y/n…” he warned gently, setting the water beside you.

“i have this thing,” you blurted. “with my sunbae. jung jaehyun. he’s… god, he’s stupidly hot. tall, broad shoulders, perfect hair, every girl wants him. he only sleeps with older women — the kind who know what they’re doing. and I just… i don’t want to disappoint him.”

haechan’s expression darkened, not with anger, but something deeper. “so you wanted to use me as practice?” he asked, voice low.

“i’m not trying to use you,” you said, firm but vulnerable. “you’re my best friend. i trust you more than anyone. and you’re… you’re good at it.”

haechan blinked. “what?”

“you’re good in bed.”

he narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “and how the hell do you know that?”

you gave a half-smirk. “you talk about it all the time, remember? bragging about your conquests like a walking NSFW podcast. you made it sound like you practically invented foreplay.”

haechan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “god, I was joking half the time—”

“but that’s exactly why i asked you in the first place,” you cut in, locking eyes with him. “because there’s no one else i’d trust for something like this. and let’s be honest—” you tilted your head with a teasing smile. “it’s not like you’ve gotten laid recently either.”

his jaw tensed. “i’m not desperate for sex, y/n.”

“oh, really?” you raised an eyebrow. “so those midnight jerk-off sessions because of your dreams about me are just… what? a new coping mechanism?”

his face burned red. “how do you—?!”

“i may have heard a little something.” you sipped your water dramatically. “you’re not as quiet as you think.”

“i hate you,” he muttered under his breath, turning away to hide the growing smirk on his lips.

“no, you don’t.”

you stood up slowly, unsteady but serious, your eyes fixed on his. “if we did this… it would be safe. familiar. no weirdness. just… two people helping each other out.”

“that’s not what this is about for you though, is it?” he said, voice low.

you looked away for a moment before answering. “no. It’s not just that. i want to feel… wanted. i want to be good at this. and yeah… I want to impress jaehyun. but i also… want it to be with someone who won’t hurt me.”

and for a moment, everything was quiet. the only sound was the water boiling and both your hearts pounding.

he exhaled sharply, frustrated — but not just at you. At himself. At this whole ridiculous night.

then, haechan stepped closer.

he leaned over, hands gripping the back of the couch, caging you in — his face mere inches from yours. you froze. Your breath hitched. your fingers clenched around the glass.

then, without thinking, you kissed him.

it was messy. desperate. tasting of beer and heat and something reckless.

he kissed you back — just for a second — his hand cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek. but then he pulled away suddenly, breath heavy, pupils blown wide.

“you’re drunk,” he said, voice hoarse. “i'm not kissing you like this.”

you blinked up at him, breathless.

“but if i weren’t?” you whispered.

he didn’t say anything.

but the fire in his eyes gave you all the answer you needed.

and that silence? it was louder than anything either of you had said all night.

that night, haechan slept on the couch, buried under a mess of blankets. you, on the other hand, took his bed — warm with freshly changed sheets and a white oversized t-shirt that smelled like him. he’d also lent you a hoodie for the cold, soft and worn from use.

when he asked if you'd prefer to sleep with the door shut for privacy, you shook your head and left it cracked open. Just slightly. maybe it was a silent invitation. maybe a part of you hoped he'd come in.

but he didn’t.

haechan's self-control was ironclad. he wouldn't touch you — not like that, not when you were drunk, no matter how much you asked. and you had asked. desperately.

by morning, your head throbbed with a brutal hangover. the light leaking through the blinds was cruel and unforgiving. still half-asleep, you blinked at the side table — a glass of water and a neatly placed pill waited for you. of course he remembered.

you padded out into the living room, barefoot, limbs aching. the smell of warm broth hit you first. then the quiet hum of a streamer's voice coming from his computer.

haechan sat hunched at the small dining table, glasses perched on his nose, hair slightly tousled from sleep. he was watching some gaming livestream, lazily slurping noodles from a bowl of ramen. a small pot sat between you, steam still curling up, and beside it — another bowl.

you noticed the sausage in the pot had been sliced perfectly small, just the way you liked. he always remembered little things like that.

your stomach twisted, not with hunger, but something softer. deeper.

without saying anything, haechan patted the seat beside him. you moved toward him slowly, like you were walking through a dream. he didn’t look at you — just kept his eyes on the screen as he grabbed the second bowl, carefully ladling ramen into it while glancing back and forth between the pot and your bowl to avoid making a mess.

you let out a quiet, involuntary giggle.

he glanced up at you then — his lips curved ever so slightly. and that's when you noticed it: his thick-rimmed glasses. the ones he only wore when he was deep into gaming or editing something late at night. they made him look effortlessly cool. casual. comfortable.

and stupidly handsome.

“thanks,” you murmured, your voice still hoarse from sleep and dehydration. “for… last night. picking me up.”

he didn’t respond at first — just nodded once, still watching the screen. no mention of the kiss. no mention of your drunken confession. nothing. just silence.

the elephant between you had never been bigger.

you glanced sideways again and noticed the dark circles under his eyes — deep and tired. he’d barely slept.

“you okay?” you asked gently.

“i’m fine,” he said, pushing up his glasses with a knuckle. “you had it worse.”

you looked down at the bowl in front of you, steam rising like it was trying to fill the silence. you slurped a noodle quietly, chewing.

that’s when you noticed something else.

the shape of his jaw as he ate — sharp, cut like stone under soft skin. you’d seen him eat ramen a hundred times, but this was the first time you really looked. the way his throat moved when he swallowed. the subtle flex of his neck. his collarbone peeking from under his hoodie. even the slope of his nose and the way his glasses rested perfectly above his cheekbones.

he wasn’t just your best friend. he was… really attractive.

painfully so.

and that realization made your stomach clench — not from the hangover, but from something dangerously close to want.

you sat there, fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic of the ramen bowl, the heat grounding you as your mind spun.

“hey…” your voice came out soft, hesitant. “about last night—”

the sound of his chopsticks hitting the table made you jump. it wasn’t loud, but it was enough. enough to cut through the quiet and slice the conversation before it could begin.

haechan didn’t look at you. his jaw tensed as he stared at the table, hands clenched loosely on either side of his bowl.

you froze. unsure.

he inhaled through his nose, controlled, calculated. then, finally, he spoke. “if you’re done eating… maybe you should call a locksmith. for your apartment.”

your stomach dropped.

just like that, the warmth left the room. or maybe it was still there, but it couldn’t reach you anymore.

“o-oh.” you blinked. “yeah… right. my keys.”

he stood up slowly, not rushed, just… distant. like something inside him had gone cold.

you watched him close the laptop screen with one hand, then gather his bowl and yours, moving with quiet efficiency. not meeting your gaze once.

you couldn’t move. couldn’t speak. the shift was too sharp, too sudden. it left you sitting there like a statue, hands still wrapped around the now lukewarm bowl.

“i’ll wash these,” he muttered, almost to himself.

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. your throat was tight, words caught somewhere between confusion and guilt. you hadn’t meant to ruin the morning. hadn’t meant to push.

but there it was again — the elephant. bigger than ever.

and this time, haechan had chosen to turn his back on it.

you stood up slowly, the chair scraping against the floor. he was already at the sink, rinsing the dishes like it was any other sunday. like nothing happened. like you hadn’t kissed him. like you hadn’t confessed the things that had been burning you from the inside out.

but your eyes were stuck on his back. the slope of his shoulders. the way his hoodie clung slightly at the waist. and still — that feeling. that gnawing ache deep in your chest.

he was right there. and still, he felt so far away.

“haechan…” your voice barely carried.

he didn’t turn around.

you bit your lip. hard. maybe you had crossed a line. maybe he was just being kind last night, and you mistook it for something else. maybe—

“i need to shower,” he said abruptly, setting the last plate down. “you can use my phone to call someone.”

and then he was gone, the bathroom door closing with a click that echoed too loudly in the silence he left behind.

you were alone again.

but this time, it hurt more than it should’ve.

your phone was still dead.

you hadn’t charged it since last night, and at this point, it didn’t matter. you weren’t exactly in the mood to speak to anyone else anyway.

you curled up on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest, arms wrapping tightly around them like they could somehow protect you from the weight pressing on your chest. you stared blankly ahead, trying to piece together what went wrong.

you hadn’t meant to make things weird. you hadn’t meant to cross a line. and yet… you did. and now, all of it felt like a mistake unraveling at your feet.

you chewed on your lip, eyes unfocused.

was it when you asked to stay with him? or when you told him the truth — that you couldn’t stop thinking about him, that you wanted to learn with him because you trusted him? maybe it was the kiss. that moment, hazy and laced with beer, when you leaned in and felt his lips move against yours. he kissed you back. you were sure of it.

but now… maybe it wasn’t enough. or maybe it was too much.

the sound of the bathroom door opening pulled you from your spiral. you looked up, heart stuttering in your chest.

haechan stepped out, steam drifting behind him in lazy clouds. his black t-shirt clung to his skin slightly, still damp from the shower. his sweatpants sat low on his hips, and around his neck hung a white towel, which he used intermittently to ruffle through his damp, dark hair.

he looked surprised to see you still there.

his expression flattened quickly, going unreadable. “you still haven’t called the locksmith?”

you didn’t answer.

he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, towel dragging with it. “y/n…”

but you were already crying.

your face was turned away, but he saw the tremble in your shoulders, the way your hands gripped tighter around your legs. the soft sound of you trying not to make a sound.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of your own words. “i ruined everything.”

he went quiet.

“i should’ve never suggested that,” you continued, barely audible. “i didn’t mean to treat you like you’re some— some kind of object. i was just thinking about myself. about what i wanted. and that was selfish. i wasn’t thinking about you.”

he still didn’t move.

“i just—” you swallowed thickly, lifting your head to look at him through blurry eyes. “i wasn’t trying to use you. i swear. i… i just trust you. you’re my best friend. and maybe i took that too far. i just… i feel like i’ve messed everything up.”

you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t even have to say anything. your face this morning said it all.”

for a second, haechan just looked at you. his gaze scanned your face — your tear-stained cheeks, your trembling mouth. the regret swimming in your eyes.

then he sighed and walked closer. dropped the towel onto the coffee table. crouched down in front of you.

“you’re not the only one who’s confused,” he said, voice softer now. “and yeah, maybe last night was messy. maybe we said shit we weren’t supposed to. but… you didn’t ruin anything.”

your breath hitched.

he leaned in, resting a hand gently on your knee.

“you’re not selfish for wanting something. and you’re not using me. i know you.” his voice dropped a bit, more intimate now. “maybe that’s why it’s so hard to pretend it didn’t affect me.”

you blinked. “…what?”

he looked up at you from where he knelt. “you said… kissing could help calm you down. remember?”

your eyes widened.

he tilted his head, a small, careful smirk pulling at the edge of his mouth.

“so… if it helps…” he leaned closer, letting his hand trail up your thigh. “i could kiss you again.”

you stopped breathing.

your lips parted, unsure of what to say. but your body moved before your brain could catch up. you leaned in.

he met you halfway.

this kiss was different. slower. more controlled. still tasting faintly of mint and something warm, like cinnamon from the tea he’d made earlier. his hand cradled your cheek this time, thumb brushing softly beneath your eye.

it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t hungry.

but it burned.

and then he pulled back, just barely.

“but only when you’re sober,” he whispered against your lips, breath warm. “only when you really mean it.”

you nodded slowly, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.

“okay,” you breathed. “okay.”

and for now — that was enough.

a few weeks passed.

you had finally gotten a replacement set of keys and returned to your apartment. that weekend was a blur of mundane things—scrubbing your bathroom floor until your arms ached, catching up on overdue sketches, finishing the last pages of an assignment you’d been dodging for weeks. you needed the quiet. the stillness. a chance to feel like yourself again.

but even in your own bed, the cold side of the sheets reminded you of that one night you hadn’t slept alone.

the kiss with haechan had, strangely, softened everything between you. the awkwardness melted away like snow on sunlit pavement. now, you were gentler with each other. your laughter came easier. your glances lingered longer. but the elephant—the weight of what that kiss meant—never left. it simply learned to sit quietly in the corner.

on tuesday afternoon, you were leaving the print room when you nearly ran into jaehyun.

"whoa, careful, pretty girl," he said, catching your elbow with a hand that felt way too steady, too confident.

“sorry,” you chuckled, tucking your hair behind your ear. jaehyun always looked like he belonged in some magazine spread—jaw carved from stone, lashes too long for someone that smug, silver rings glinting against his fingers like he knew where the light would hit.

“what brings you over here?” he asked, eyeing your sketch tube slung across your shoulder.

“professor cho. needed some stuff for his class. he’s on his power trip again.”

“classic,” he smirked. “listen… we’re having something this friday. low-key. not one of those packed, flyer-in-the-bathroom kind of things. just a curated crowd. people who get it.”

your brow arched. “curated?”

he laughed. “yeah. you know. people with taste.”

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips.

“you should come,” he added, stepping a little closer. “might help with that tension you’ve been carrying around.”

“what tension?” you teased.

he leaned in, eyes flicking down your face. “the kind that makes you think too much. sometimes you gotta stop overanalyzing and just feel it.”

“feel what?”

his smile was maddening. “depends who you end up with.”

you laughed it off, but your cheeks were already warm. maybe he was flirting. maybe he wasn’t. either way, the idea sat in your chest like a dare.

you thought about it all the way back to your place. and later that night, lying on your bed staring at the ceiling, you let yourself wonder what it’d be like to… try. to stop guessing what sex felt like and actually find out. you didn’t want to rush it. but you didn’t want to keep floating in uncertainty either.

and somewhere else on campus, haechan couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

he was standing in the backroom of the burger place, mirror fogged with steam, face damp and flushed from another rush. and there you were. again. in his head. like you’d carved a space he couldn’t seal shut.

he felt pathetic.

like some teenage boy discovering self-pleasure for the first time. except it wasn’t discovery—it was addiction. every night, without fail, his body woke him up with a pulse he couldn’t ignore. his hand would slide beneath the waistband of his sweats, his breath shallow, mind full of you. always you.

and god, those lips.

maybe he should’ve never kissed you.

but the second your mouth touched his, something inside him had snapped. like it had been waiting for that moment all along. you’d kissed him with a kind of messy urgency—too fast, too eager, bumping teeth before finding a rhythm. but then came the softness. the unspoken need. the trust. you had tasted like beer and breath mints and something far too intimate for a one-time thing.

now, he couldn’t un-feel it.

behind the counter, he’d zone out mid-shift, hands wet from dishes, and suddenly he’d remember the way you had moaned into his mouth. the way you had gripped his hoodie like you were holding on for dear life. the way your body had melted into his.

he couldn’t stop picturing you in that black dress, jacket slipping off your shoulder, legs crossed like a sin. or the way your lips had parted when you looked at him like you needed more. like you wanted him.

and at night—his room dark, quiet, too warm—he would close his eyes and imagine your thighs on either side of his hips. your voice whispering his name. your nails on his skin.

he used to admire you from a safe place. used to think of you as a friend, maybe even a muse. now? now he couldn’t look at you without imagining what it would be like to bury his face between your legs. to ruin you a little. just enough.

he hated how much he needed it.

he hated how much he missed the feel of your mouth on his.

he hated that he wanted more.

you were stepping out of your digital illustration class, bag slung over your shoulder, neck stiff from hunching over your campaign poster project. when you exited the building, you spotted him right away—haechan, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hands tucked into his backpack straps like he’d been waiting a while.

you always found him there these days.

“hey,” you said, breathless from the stairs. “thanks for waiting. again.”

he gave a casual shrug. “you make it sound like i have a life.”

“do you?”

“…not really.”

you both smiled.

as you walked side by side, the sun cast long shadows behind you, painting the concrete in soft amber. you weren’t touching. but it felt like you were. something invisible had always linked you two. lately, though—it tugged harder.

“so,” you said, voice light, “i think i’m gonna go to that party. tomorrow”

he blinked. “jaehyun’s?”

you nodded. “he made it sound... exclusive.”

“and you’re going?”

you smirked at his tone. “might be an opportunity.”

he stiffened beside you. “opportunity for what?”

you gave him a look. “you know what.”

he stopped. “you’re really gonna sleep with him?”

your cheeks flared, heart skipping. “no. it’s not like that. i just… maybe it’s time to try. get some answers.”

you watched his face carefully. saw the way his jaw locked. the way his brows twitched.

“but,” you added softly, “if it happens… it happens.”

and then, bold as ever, you turned to him. “unless you still wanna help me.”

his breath caught.

“we already kissed,” you said, eyes steady on his. “feels like we’ve done half the homework. next part’s sex, right? that’s what comes after. and you—you’re the one who used to brag about how good you were at it.”

he looked like you’d cornered him. because you had.

“remember those nights you’d ramble about girls? ‘her tits are insane’, ‘i’d fold her in a second’—that was you, haechan. your words.”

he swallowed, hard. “i didn’t think you were listening.”

“i always listen to you,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “especially when you talk about what you like.”

and then, with a wicked grin: “and let’s be honest. guys lose their minds over tits and ass. that’s not complicated.”

his silence told you everything.

you took one step closer, slow and steady.

“so?” you asked again, quieter now. “are you still willing to help me?”

and he didn’t answer.

not with words.

but you saw it in his eyes—the panic, the desire, the war between instinct and restraint.

you had no idea how long he could keep resisting.

but you were getting closer to finding out.

the night felt quieter than usual when they arrived at your apartment. your didn’t speak. the walk there had been filled with those kinds of silences that don’t necessarily feel awkward, but make you too aware of your own thoughts. you walked a few steps ahead of haechan, and he found himself watching you — the way your fingers twisted nervously, the slight tension in your shoulders, the soft sway of your hair brushing your back. he could tell she was unsure. and if he was being honest, so was he.

he’d never seen you like this before. not really. not in this light. there’d always been this boundary between both of you, this invisible thread that kept everything just on the edge of becoming something else. but lately… it had changed. the way she looked at him lingered a little longer. the way he touched you — in small, passing moments — felt less like habit and more like gravity. and right now, standing in the dim glow of your apartment, he realized just how close you were to crossing that invisible line.

he stands close, but not touching, his gaze fixed on you with a kind of careful intensity that makes your skin warm.

you unlock the door without saying a word, your fingers fumbling slightly. you can feel his eyes on you, not judging, just watching. when you step inside, he follows, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

inside, it’s quiet. you cross the room and sit on the edge of your bed, heart racing.

he doesn’t follow you immediately. Instead, he leans against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest, his expression unreadable. you feel his eyes on your back as you drop your keys onto the counter, your breath shaky, heart pacing with something you don’t quite understand but desperately want to. when you finally turn around to face him, he’s already watching you — not with that usual teasing smile, but with something heavier, deeper. something that feels like want.

you turned to face him, eyes uncertain, but there was something else behind them. something softer. something raw. “i want to do it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“still thinking about your plan?” he asks softly, voice calm, like he’s trying not to spook you.

you nod slowly. “i just… i want to be good for jaehyun.”

his jaw tightens just a little, barely noticeable. but his voice doesn’t change. “you’re trying to learn how to please someone else,” he says, stepping closer, “when you haven’t even taken the time to learn yourself.”

you blink, suddenly unsure. “i thought… that’s what you were going to help me with.”

he exhales gently, closing the space between you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. “i will. but only if you let me take the lead. if you trust me completely. no pretending. no rushing. just… you. raw. honest.”

your breath catches in your throat. something about the way he says it, the quiet authority in his tone, the way he looks at you like he already knows your body better than you do — it makes you ache in places you’ve barely dared to explore on your own.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “i’ll do whatever you say.”

his eyes soften. there’s something unspoken there — a tension that’s been building between you for longer than you realized. and now it’s finally unraveling.

“then take off your clothes,” he says, his voice low, steady. “lie back.”

your fingers feel clumsy, nerves fluttering in your chest as you undress. he doesn’t look away. his gaze follows every inch of skin you reveal like he’s memorizing you. but it never feels invasive. it feels… reverent. when you’re finally bare, you lie down, body exposed, unsure, vulnerable. he doesn’t move right away. he just watches, like he’s waiting for you to fully settle into the moment.

“you’re beautiful,” he says quietly. “but i’m not going to touch you until i see that you believe it, too.”

you want to believe it. you want to feel beautiful in your own skin, not just because someone else says it, but because something inside you says you deserve to be. but right now, all you feel is nervous. exposed. seen.

he kneels at the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. “you’re safe,” he murmurs. “you’re in control. i’m just guiding you.”

his hand touches your thigh, light as air, and your breath stutters. the warmth of his palm spreads through you like liquid, grounding and electric all at once. he doesn’t rush. his fingers explore slowly, tracing the curve of your hip, the softness of your stomach, the inside of your thigh. each touch is a question, and your breath is the answer.

when his fingers finally find you, you gasp — not because it’s too much, but because it’s perfect. just enough. just right. he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand. he simply explores, watching every reaction, every shift of your hips, every shaky breath you take like it’s the only thing that matters.

his fingers finally reach where you need them, but he doesn’t go straight for it — no, he teases, tracing along the outer edge of your heat, making you gasp at the sudden jolt of electricity. your hips shift instinctively, seeking friction, but his free hand presses gently against your stomach, grounding you.

“easy,” he murmurs. “we’re not rushing. i want to feel every part of you fall apart.”

your head tips back against the pillow, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut as his fingers finally slip between your folds — gentle at first, just enough pressure to make your toes curl. he exhales softly, as if the heat of you surprises even him.

“relax,” he whispers. “feel. don’t think about what’s next. just stay with me. here.”

his fingers stroke you with a patience you didn’t know could exist, learning your body like it’s a language only he can understand. you’re wet, embarrassingly so, and he seems to revel in it, the way your body responds to his touch. he circles your clit with slow, practiced motions, his thumb brushing over you with maddening precision. you’re moaning now, soft and quiet, not even realizing the sounds are yours.

“fuck,” he whispers. “you’re soaked.”

your cheeks flush, but any embarrassment is quickly replaced by want as he finds your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that make your legs tremble.

you whimper his name, voice barely there, and his response is a low groan against your skin. “that’s it, baby. let me hear you.”

his mouth is everywhere now — at your neck, your chest, sucking marks into your skin like he wants to claim you, mark you, make you his. and god, part of you wants it too — wants to be wanted like this, worshipped like this.

his fingers move lower, one pressing gently at your entrance, testing. “you okay?” he asks, voice soft but thick with desire.

“yes,” you gasp, clutching at his wrist. “please.”

your hips begin to move on their own, chasing the rhythm of his fingers. the pressure is building, coiling deep inside your core, unfamiliar and terrifying and addictive. he slips a finger inside you, slow and gentle, curling just right, and you cry out, your body clenching around him without meaning to.

“h-hyuck...” you cried.

“you like that?” he asks, voice rough now, closer to a groan than a whisper. you nod frantically, unable to form words, your hands gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing.

he slides in slow, giving you time to adjust, watching your face the whole time. his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing in time with the slow push of his finger. your breath stutters, and he leans in to kiss you, stealing the sound from your lips.

you moan into his mouth, overwhelmed, undone, as he adds a second finger, the stretch just enough to make your back arch. he curls them just right, finding that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake.

“there it is,” he groans, his lips brushing yours. “fuck, you feel so good.”

you can’t answer. you can barely think. all you can do is feel — the heat building inside you, the pull of release so close you can taste it.

“don’t hold back,” he whispers against your neck. “i want to feel you fall apart for me.”

and when he starts moving faster — fingers pumping deep and sure, thumb pressing harder against your clit — it’s too much. the pressure breaks, crashing over you like a tidal wave. your body tenses, then shatters, crying out his name as you come harder than you ever have before.

he holds you through it, kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips. his fingers slow but don’t leave you, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you’re trembling beneath him, boneless and gasping.

“let go,” he murmurs again, lips brushing against your ear. “don’t hold back. i’ve got you.”

his thumb presses harder against your clit, his fingers moving faster, more deliberate, and the pressure explodes inside you, all at once — a wave crashing over your body with violent tenderness. you cry out, shaking, the world narrowing to nothing but heat and light and the sound of his voice grounding you as your orgasm rips through you.

he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. his breath is ragged, his eyes full of something you don’t quite understand — but you feel it in your chest. raw. intense. real.

“you don’t know what you just did to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

your body arches, muscles tightening, breath gone, and everything — everything — goes quiet except for the echo of your release.

and when you open your eyes to meet his, you realize something terrifying and beautiful — you don’t think you’ll ever look at him the same again.

your back pressed against the sheets, your skin bare under the dim, golden light of your room, your breath already shaky as haechan settles beside you, fully clothed, fully in control. you should feel nervous, and maybe you do, but it’s buried under something stronger — something warmer. the way he’s looking at you now is enough to make you forget how to breathe.

haechan sits on the edge of your bed, staring at his hand—now clean—like he can’t believe what just happened. his breath is heavier than he wants to admit. his thoughts are scrambled, the feeling of touching you, of showing you something he never thought he’d share, overwhelms him. something inside him burns, something he doesn’t know if it’s frustration or desire, but he feels it with an intensity he can’t control.

when you step out of the shower, your skin still warm from the hot water, he stays there, still. you go through your skincare routine, but every movement seems to echo in him more than it should. the way your fingers brush against your face, the way you move... everything feels different now. he watches in silence, the space between you now thick with something unspoken.

“i didn’t think it would feel like that,” you say softly, breaking the silence. your voice has a tremor you can’t hide. “thank you... for helping me.”

the gesture feels sincere, but there’s something in your eyes that makes him feel exposed. he doesn’t quite understand it. he tells himself it’s fine, that he’s just helping you, that he’s just being there for you. but his body betrays him, his jaw tightens, and his fingers twitch at his side.

“you don’t need to thank me,” he says, his voice quiet, almost too quiet. “you just needed to know yourself. that’s all.”

you pause, pressing moisturizer into your skin, still feeling that soft hum in your body, a low buzz you can’t seem to shake off. it’s from what happened, but you try to tell yourself it’s just the adrenaline, just nerves. nothing more.

“i think i can handle things now,” you reply, keeping your eyes on your reflection in the mirror. “maybe tomorrow at the party... i’ll kiss jaehyun, just see how it goes. no pressure. i don’t want to rush.”

the moment the words leave your mouth, you feel it—the way the air shifts between you two. you don’t mean to look at haechan when you say jaehyun’s name, but you do. and his eyes flicker for just a second, something hard behind them that he quickly hides. he doesn’t react out loud, but his shoulders stiffen, his mouth pressing into a tight line.

“yeah,” he says, his voice controlled, but you can hear the tightness underneath. “sounds like a good idea. you deserve to figure out what you want.”

you smile, trying to lighten the mood, but something in you catches as you look at him. you feel like you’ve said the wrong thing, but you’re not sure why. haechan doesn’t look at you anymore. he stares at the floor, his jaw working like he’s holding something back.

he doesn’t let himself show it. he can’t. you’re his best friend, and he promised to help you, to guide you, not to get caught up in his own feelings. but with every word you speak, with every step you take toward jaehyun, something deep inside him twists.

he’s tasted something he shouldn’t want. and now, the thought of you with someone else—even someone you love—is unbearable.

still, he says nothing. he can’t. because he promised to help you discover yourself, not to confuse you more.

even if every part of him wants to be the only one who gets to touch you like that again.

friday came faster than expected, slipping through the cracks of your week like it had been waiting for you. unlike the other days, this one was bitterly cold—the kind of cold that crept into your sleeves and curled around your spine. haechan had texted you earlier, his usual playful tone dulled by exhaustion. "today i actually have to close, so i’ll be stuck at work late," he wrote, followed by a yawning emoji and a tired little heart. you stared at the message longer than you should’ve, feeling something heavy settle in your chest.

the cold winter air bites at your legs as you step out of the cab, your breath fogging in front of you in soft clouds. the house isn’t just any house—it’s one of the old fraternity houses on the edge of campus, the kind that looks more like a mansion than a place college boys live in. warm light glows from the tall windows, and the low hum of music leaks out from behind the heavy wooden door before it swings open.

jaehyun is already waiting, leaning casually against the doorframe. he looks unfairly good—his hair slightly tousled, a dark turtleneck hugging his figure under a sleek wool coat. he gives you that smile, the one that always makes your stomach twist in ways you’ve never really understood.

“you made it,” he says, stepping aside to let you in.

you settled on a black leather jacket, cropped just above the waist, its silver zippers catching the light every time you moved. underneath, you wore a satin navy blouse, soft and loose, with a deep neckline that hinted without revealing too much. your high-waisted dark jeans hugged your figure just right, paired with heeled ankle boots that clicked confidently against the pavement. a silk scarf, deep burgundy, wrapped around your neck—not just for warmth, but as a finishing touch. your hair was pulled back loosely, tendrils framing your face, and your makeup was soft but sharp—dark liner, flushed cheeks, and a deep berry gloss that caught the chill in the air.

you notice jaehyun’s gaze drop, lingering for a beat too long before he leads you inside.

the party isn’t crowded—maybe twenty people, maybe less. it’s quiet in that expensive kind of way: muted music, low lighting, golden liquor sloshing in crystal glasses. there’s laughter and whispers, but nothing too wild. you’re not sure what you expected, but somehow it feels more intimate than you’d prepared for.

after your second drink, the room gets a little warmer. the vodka-orange is stronger than you thought, but it burns in a good way. you’re not drunk, not like that night, but the edges of your thoughts are softer, looser.

the music is barely audible now, just a low pulse behind your ribs as jaehyun leans in. it happens the way you always imagined it would—with the warmth of alcohol in your veins, the subtle tension in the air, his breath fanning softly against your cheek as his lips finally meet yours.

at first, it’s cinematic.

his hand is at your waist, careful but firm. his lips, smooth and slow, move against yours like he’s done this a thousand times. his cologne is rich—something expensive and clean, like bergamot and wood.

“you look incredible tonight,” he murmurs, voice low. It’s not the first time he’s flirted with you, but tonight it feels more focused.

you laugh lightly, sipping again. “you say that to every girl you invite to one of these,” you tease.

he smirks. “i don’t. just the ones i hope will stay after everyone else leaves.”

that catches you off guard. there’s a pause, the kind that’s heavy with implication. you don’t answer right away. instead, you tilt your head, watching him through the haze of dim lights and liquor.

more intentional. you close your eyes, willing your heart to speed up, your stomach to twist, your knees to weaken.

but none of it happens.

instead, there’s a slow, creeping emptiness that settles over your skin. you taste the sharp tang of beer on his tongue—bitter and stale—and it dulls the moment like a film of dust on something once shiny. it’s not that he’s doing anything wrong. in fact, he’s doing everything right. and maybe that’s the problem. it’s all too perfect. too rehearsed. too... lifeless.

you keep your lips against his a second longer, maybe two, hoping that if you just try, the magic will follow.

but it doesn’t.

what started as something dreamlike begins to dissolve, unraveling into something flat. weightless. forgettable. like kissing a statue—beautiful, yes, but cold. you feel your body slowly disconnect, like your mind is pulling away, shrinking back into itself. you’re kissing jaehyun. jaehyun. tall, broad-shouldered, silver-tongued. the guy every girl fantasizes about.

and yet... nothing.

when you pull away, you do it gently, trying not to show the disappointment pressing against your chest like a bruise. he looks at you with those deep, unreadable eyes, but you can’t meet them for long. something in you already knows: this isn’t what you wanted. maybe it never was.

and then, like clockwork, your thoughts betray you.

because in the silence that follows, in that stretch of breathless stillness, a name rises uninvited in your mind.

haechan.

you blink, shaken by the immediacy of it. why him, of all people? but it doesn’t stop. your mind floods with him, with everything he is and isn’t. jaehyun is all sharp lines and polished edges. he’s winter: sleek and cold, dressed in cashmere and shadows. and haechan...

haechan is sun-warmed skin and mischievous smiles. he’s a burst of color in a black-and-white room. his skin is golden, kissed by sun even in december. you remember the first time he wore glasses in class—how suddenly he looked different. not in a new way, but like you were finally seeing something that had been there all along. it had startled you. he looked good. really good. and you’d stared a little longer than you meant to.

you think about how he always cradles that old gaming console on his lap during breaks, fingers dancing over buttons like it's second nature. how he talks about characters and plots with the same intensity people reserve for politics or love. how he orders black coffee like it's a religion, never anything sweet. how he complains about the cold like it's a personal offense—bundling up in layers and still shivering, nose pink, eyes watery, grumbling but cute.

and you remember something else.

the way his eyes light up when he talks about music. not just any music—he’s always been drawn to layered melodies, harmonies that build slowly, that sneak up on you. you’d caught him once, eyes closed, headphones in, mouthing the words to a song you didn’t recognize. something soft and slow. when you asked what it was, he smiled, kind of shy, and said, “it’s this track i found—it builds so gently, but when it hits, it hits. it makes you feel everything, you know?”

you didn’t then. but now, maybe you do.

because that’s what haechan is like. he builds slowly. gently. he makes you feel everything without trying. without asking. just by being.

you think back to his kiss—that moment in the quiet of his room, when the world felt too small and too loud all at once. his lips weren’t smooth or calculated. they were warm. real. tasting faintly of coffee and breath mints, of nervousness and care. his hands weren’t firm—they trembled just a little. like he wasn’t sure, but he wanted to be. and that kiss? it burned. it lingered. it left something behind in your chest, something heavy and aching.

jaehyun’s kiss, in comparison, feels like water evaporating before it ever touches your skin.

“i need some air,” you say, barely loud enough to hear over the music.

you step away from the kitchen, your hands shaking slightly—not from cold, but from clarity. it’s unsettling, how fast something can shift. how a fantasy can collapse in on itself the moment reality arrives.

you walk toward the front door, ignoring jaehyun’s curious glance. and as the winter air hits your cheeks again, sharp and sobering, you realize the only thing you want right now is warmth.

and the only person who’s ever made you feel it... is haechan.

you step outside, the cold air biting at your cheeks like reality trying to sober you up. it’s quiet out here, except for the faint music pulsing through the windows behind you and the distant sound of traffic. your lips still taste faintly of beer and disappointment, and you try not to let it show on your face—even if there’s no one around to see.

you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly. not just from the cold, but from the feeling growing in your chest. a hollow ache that started the moment jaehyun pulled away and left you with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of something that should’ve felt magical. it was supposed to mean something. you’d wanted it to. for weeks—months even—you thought that maybe this was what you needed. something new. something exciting.

but standing there in the dark, with the wind tugging gently at your coat, all you can think about is how wrong it felt.

how empty.

you sigh and glance down at your phone. 11:45 p.m. haechan probably just got home not long ago—he said he’d be working late tonight, and you remember the slight frown he gave you when you mentioned the party. not because he disapproved. but because he wouldn’t be there.

you hesitate, thumb hovering over his contact. calling him now would make you look ridiculous, wouldn’t it? but god… you need someone. someone who knows you, who doesn’t expect you to be dazzling or mysterious or anything other than exactly who you are.

before you can overthink it again, your thumb presses “call.”

the line barely rings twice before his voice comes through, groggy but alert, like he hadn’t really been asleep yet.

"y/n?" his voice is a little breathless, alarmed. "are you okay?"

you don’t answer right away. the sound of his voice cracks something open inside you. your throat tightens, and your eyes sting, a rush of heat behind your lashes. the words won’t come, caught somewhere between your tongue and your heart.

"hey, talk to me. what happened?"

his concern hits you like a wave. not because of what he’s saying, but how he’s saying it. gently. urgently. like nothing else in the world matters except you right now. like your silence is enough to make his chest hurt.

you swallow thickly, finally managing to breathe, “i… i didn’t know who else to call.”

he exhales slowly, like he’s relieved to hear your voice, even if it’s shaky. “i’m glad you called me.”

and it’s so stupid—so fucking stupid—but that’s when the tears come. silently at first, then all at once. and still, haechan says nothing. just waits, gives you space to fall apart without asking for an explanation.

he always does that. always shows up, always makes you feel like you’re not too much, even when you’re too much for yourself.

and suddenly you realize something—not like a lightning bolt, but like a quiet click, something that was always there, waiting to be noticed. it was never about jaehyun. not really. it was the idea of him. and now, with that illusion shattered, you’re left with the one person who’s been real all along.

the one who always answers the phone. the one who remembers how you take your coffee. the one who listens when you talk about your art for hours and never pretends to be bored.

“can you…” your voice is small, choked, “can you come get me?”

“already on my way,” he says without hesitation.

and just like that, you feel less alone. maybe not okay, not yet—but safe.

safe in the way only he ever made you feel.

you step back into the warmth of the house, wiping your cheeks and pretending the cold air is the only reason your eyes are red. inside, the party hasn’t changed at all—music still pulsing, people still dancing, someone already passed out on a couch. it feels like you left the chaos and walked right back into it, except now it doesn't swallow you whole. now, you’re just… drifting.

you spot jaehyun near the kitchen, leaning against the counter, lazily scrolling through his phone. he doesn’t look up at first, but when he does, his eyes land on you immediately. he straightens, sliding the phone into his back pocket before making his way toward you.

your stomach knots—not because you're afraid, but because you’re not sure what you're supposed to say to the guy you just kissed and then immediately ran away from.

before he even opens his mouth, you raise a hand slightly, your words tumbling out faster than you can stop them.

“i—i’m sorry. i just… i think i was really into the idea of you. like, really into it. but tonight i realized maybe… i don’t know…”

you trail off, eyes dropping to the floor, suddenly very interested in the scuff marks on your boots.

jaehyun quirks a brow, and for a second, it’s awkwardly silent—but then he lets out a soft laugh. it’s not cruel, not mocking. just… amused.

“you know,” he says, arms crossing over his chest, “when we first started talking, i thought you and that guy donghyuck?—were together. like, definitely together.”

you blink, lifting your head. “what?”

“yeah,” he shrugs. “you’d always come to class with him. always laughing, always close. and the way he looked at you? i figured i didn’t stand a chance. but then i saw you alone for a few days, and thought maybe you broke up or something, so…” he gestures vaguely. “i shot my shot.”

you feel your cheeks heat up instantly. “we’re not… he’s not my boyfriend. we never dated.”

jaehyun smirks like he doesn’t believe you, but also like he knows better than to argue. “sure. maybe not technically. but come on.” he leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “you really think there’s nothing going on there?”

you start to protest, but then stop. because he’s not wrong, and you’re too tired to lie—to him or to yourself.

“it’s complicated,” you mutter.

he smiles again, this time softer, more genuine. “well, if it helps… i’m not offended. not at all. i mean, you’re sweet, and you kiss okay—”

“okay?” you gasp, half-laughing, half-horrified.

“hey,” he chuckles, holding up his hands, “it was a mutual ‘meh,’ right?”

you both burst out laughing, the tension finally breaking like a balloon popped with a pin. for the first time that night, you feel lighter.

“i really thought i liked you,” you admit.

“you probably did,” he shrugs. “or… the idea of me.”

“yeah.”

jaehyun gives you a wink. “for what it’s worth, i think you and haechan are cute as hell. even if you don’t know it yet.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. a real, unforced smile.

“thanks,” you say quietly.

“anytime,” he replies, already turning toward the kitchen again. “just… don’t let that one go, alright?”

and as you watch him disappear into the crowd, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

on my way. almost there.

you press your lips together, the ghost of a smile still there.

maybe you didn’t come to this party to kiss jaehyun after all. maybe you came to realize who you should’ve been calling all along.

the cold bites harder now. you’re standing outside again, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, your phone clutched tight in your hand. every passing second feels like it’s stretching eternity, but then—you spot him. haechan walks up the sidewalk.

haechan was wearing sweatpants, mismatched socks stuffed into crocs, and a hoodie that’s too big even for him. his hair is a mess, fluffed and wild like he just rolled out of bed—and he probably did. you freeze, heart caught in your throat, as he blinks at you sleepily, rubbing at one eye with the heel of his palm.

you stare at him—at the boy who still showed up, in the dead of night, after a long shift, just because you needed him. and something inside you swells so big, so full, it spills over before you can contain it.

you don’t think—you run.

you crash into him with a force that makes him stumble half a step back, arms instantly wrapping around you, warm and steady. he doesn’t say anything. he just holds you, one hand coming up to stroke your hair gently, his breath warm against your temple.

you press your face into his neck, breathing him in—coffee, fabric softener, something so haechan. your chest heaves, and your eyes sting again.

when he pulls you into his embrace, it feels like the weight of the world finally lifts from your chest. his touch is soft, his fingers brushing against your skin in the most familiar way, like he’s always been there, always meant to be there.

he sighs softly, tugging you closer like he’s scared you’ll slip away. “seriously… what’s wrong with you lately?” he murmurs, voice groggy, laced with concern. “why are you acting like such a crybaby, huh?”

you lift your head, blinking up at him through the tears that won’t stop pooling. your eyes meet his—those deep, sleepy eyes that always seem to see too much—and your lips part as if to answer, but no words come.

so instead, you kiss him.

you pull him down by the collar of his hoodie and press your mouth to his with all the confusion, all the ache, all the longing you’ve buried for far too long. his lips are warm, soft, and as soon as he realizes what’s happening, he kisses you back.

and then, when you press your lips to his, it’s like every other kiss you’ve had fades away into nothingness. the world around you dissolves, and all that remains is the sensation of him. it’s pure, it’s grounding—everything that jaehyun’s kiss wasn’t.

he doesn’t ask questions. he doesn’t stop you. he just holds you tighter, like he’s afraid this moment might shatter.

his hand cradles your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing under your eye, and the kiss deepens—not rushed, not clumsy, just real. like he’s trying to tell you all the things neither of you ever dared to say.

your fingers curl into his hoodie as you pour everything into the kiss—your gratitude, your fear, your guilt, your truth.

it feels like you're being purified, as if every trace of doubt, of confusion, of disappointment, is being washed away by the intensity of haechan’s presence. there’s no bitterness, no strange aftertaste—only him, only the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you lose yourself in him. with each second, you realize just how much you’ve longed for this, how much you’ve needed him, even when you didn’t know it. this, this is what real intimacy feels like, and it’s everything you never knew you were missing.

the walk to haechan’s apartment felt different. the night air was biting, and the cold seemed to press against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to cool the heat that was bubbling in your chest. you didn’t want to be here, not tonight, not after everything that had just happened. but here you were, once again, losing yourself in the warmth of his presence.

“lost your keys again?” haechan asked, his voice playful but with a hint of concern in his eyes as he stepped aside to let you into his apartment. you gave him a sheepish smile, pretending to fumble with your bag and looking down, avoiding his gaze.

“yeah, I’m such a mess,” you murmured, but your words felt hollow, like they were slipping through your fingers as quickly as the night’s events.

he didn’t say anything more, but the slight furrow of his brow told you he was paying attention. it was a game, a little lie that you used to keep yourself near him just a little longer, but tonight, it felt like more. it felt like you were hiding something from him.

inside his apartment, the quiet enveloped you like a blanket, and for a moment, it felt like everything was still. you sat on the couch next to him, the tension between you thickening by the second. it was always easy to talk to him, but tonight, the words felt like they were stuck in your throat. and you knew why—because the taste of jaehyun’s kiss was still fresh on your lips, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“what happened?” haechan’s voice cut through the silence, and you could see it in his eyes: that flicker of concern. he knew something was wrong, and you could feel his gaze on you, waiting for the truth.

you let out a breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “jaehyun... I kissed him.”

he stiffened beside you, his body tensing. you didn’t have to look at him to know the change in his expression. it was there in the way his muscles locked up, in the way he barely moved, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processed the words.

"what? you kissed him?" he repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. "good for you, I guess..."

the final sentence hit you like a punch to the gut, but you couldn’t stop now. it was too late to take it back, and the confession felt like it was clawing its way out.

"it wasn’t what I expected," you whispered, avoiding his gaze as your stomach twisted. "it was... bad. it didn’t feel right. at all."

haechan’s hand clenched into a fist, his face hardening, but there was something more in his eyes now—something you hadn’t expected. jealousy. confusion. it was almost as if he wanted to say something but was holding it back. you felt the heat rise in your chest, your own guilt gnawing at you.

"wait—what?" haechan leaned forward, his voice suddenly sharp, though his face was tight with barely-contained emotion. "it was... bad? after all that?"

you nodded slowly, your throat tight as you continued, “yeah. it wasn’t what I thought it would be. there was no passion, no spark. the taste of beer... it was all I could focus on, and I hated it. I... I just couldn’t feel anything.”

the silence that followed felt thick, suffocating. you could see the storm brewing in his eyes. he wasn’t angry—at least, not completely—but he was something else. hurt, maybe? or disappointment? you couldn’t tell.

"so, that’s it then?" his voice was quieter now, the sharpness fading into something softer, more contemplative. “your feelings for him are... gone?”

"yeah," you admitted, finally meeting his gaze, feeling the truth weigh on your shoulders. "they’re gone. I don’t want him anymore. I don’t even want to kiss him again."

the words hung in the air, and you waited for him to respond, your heart racing, unsure of what he would say. when he finally spoke, it wasn’t what you expected.

“you know,” he started, his voice light, almost teasing, “i never liked the idea of you with him. not even for a second.”

you blinked, surprised at his admission. “you didn’t?”

“no,” he said, the edge of his smile almost teasing, though there was something else behind it. “I always thought you deserved someone who wasn’t... like him.”

you frowned, still processing what he was saying, but before you could respond, he continued.

“but now i get it. i see why you would be disappointed. he’s not... him,” haechan said, his voice lowering, the underlying sadness creeping in. "i guess i’m just glad you’re realizing it now. even if it took you kissing him to see it."

a chill ran down your spine as you looked at him, unsure of what he meant. your heart tightened with a strange mix of relief and something else—something more complicated that you couldn’t name yet.

“you’re not... mad?” you asked quietly.

“mad?” he repeated, laughing softly, though there was no real humor in it. “no. why would I be mad? I’m just... relieved. you deserve better.”

“so... what now?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

haechan didn’t answer immediately. his eyes lingered on you—soaked in the way your makeup had smudged slightly, how your lips were still a little swollen from that kiss with jaehyun, how your dress had ridden up your thighs from the car ride. he swallowed hard, jaw clenched like he was fighting the urge to say something reckless.

then he said it anyway.

“now i take care of you.”

your breath hitched.

he stepped closer. slowly. deliberately. the kind of approach that made your knees weak. the kind of approach that said he knew exactly what you needed before you did. his hand reached for your waist, pulling you gently toward him, until your bodies were flush against each other.

“unless you don’t want that,” he murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps. “you tell me to stop, and i will. no questions, no pressure.”

you didn’t say anything. you couldn’t. Instead, you tilted your head and captured his lips in a kiss—needy, messy, full of everything you hadn’t said for weeks.

he groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your hips, grounding you. but he didn’t rush. he kissed you like he had time. like he was savoring the moment he’d waited for far too long.

“haechan…” you breathed when you finally pulled back.

he looked at you, eyes burning.

“yeah, baby?”

your cheeks flushed. “i… want to go further. i trust you.”

he blinked, just once, and something softened in his expression.

“are you sure?” he asked, voice lower now, rougher, but laced with concern. “i need to hear you say it.”

you nodded, fingers brushing his jaw. “i’m sure.”

he kissed you again, slower this time, like a promise. then he scooped you up effortlessly in his arms, carrying you to his bed, the same way he always carried you emotionally—careful, steady, never letting you fall.

he laid you down like you were precious, and then crawled over you, caging you in with his body, forehead pressed to yours.

“tell me if anything feels too much,” he whispered.

you nodded. he reached over to the nightstand, rummaging for a condom, giving you a look that made your stomach flip.

“Prepared?” you teased softly.

he smirked. “baby, i’ve been in love with you since you spilled coffee on my camera. i’ve always been prepared.”

your laugh faded into a gasp as his hands slipped beneath your dress, touching you with reverence, praise pouring from his mouth like it was second nature.

“so fucking perfect,” he murmured, kissing down your neck. “every part of you. mine to take care of. mine to love.”

his fingers teased you through your panties until you were arching, needy and aching, the room filled with the soft, wet sounds of your arousal.

“you’re already this wet for me? fuck—baby, you're killing me.”

you squirmed, overwhelmed by the sensation, but craving more. then you heard the foil tear, and your heart pounded louder.

the moment he entered you was slow, intense, a stretch that bordered on pain and pleasure, but he was right there—kissing your forehead, telling you how beautiful you were, how good you felt, how proud he was of you.

“you’re doing so good,” he groaned. “so fucking tight. you were made for me, weren’t you?”

you nodded desperately, clinging to him.

he moved slow, deep, rolling his hips so you felt every inch of him. his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

one condom turned into two. then three. you couldn’t stop. neither could he.

sweat clung to your skin, tangled sheets beneath you. he had you on top of him at one point, his hands on your hips as you moved, his eyes never leaving your face.

“that’s it, baby. take what you need. fuck—ride me just like that.”

another position had him behind you, one hand gripping your waist, the other slipping between your legs to make you scream his name as your body fell apart.

by the time the fourth wrapper crumpled beside the bed, you were both panting, dazed and desperate.

you rolled onto your back, breathless. “we’re out.”

you reached for your phone, already sitting up. “I can run down to the 7-eleven—”

he stopped you instantly, pressing a hand to your stomach.

“no, baby,” he said, voice firm. “i’ll go. you stay here. let me take care of it.”

the way he said it—so naturally, so possessively—sent a wave of heat straight through you. you bit your lip, something wicked curling inside you.

“or…” you said, voice dripping with mischief. “we could just… try without one.”

he froze. eyes dark. jaw tight.

“don’t tempt me,” he growled.

you crawled into his lap, pressing your lips to his neck.

“what if i want to?” you whispered. “what if i want all of you?”

he exhaled sharply, head falling back. “fuck… you’re dangerous.”

still, he hesitated—until you ground down on him and whispered, “i trust you, haechan.”

that was all it took.

he didn’t say a word for a moment. just stared at you like you’d set him on fire.

then he kissed you—hard. not rushed, but full of hunger, like you’d just pulled the leash off something he’d been holding back for far too long.

you could feel him against you, throbbing and hot, even without anything between you now. your body tingled in anticipation, in fear, in want. you were bare in every way—and he saw you, accepted you, craved you.

he guided you down onto the bed again, positioning himself between your thighs, his hands cupping your face gently.

“if i do this…” he said, voice low and trembling with restraint, “you need to tell me if anything feels wrong. anything at all, baby.”

“it won’t,” you whispered. “i want you. just like this.”

he lined himself up, one hand steadying your hip, the other brushing hair from your face. when he pushed in—slow, careful, deep—your whole body tensed, wrapped around him like he was the first breath after drowning.

it hurt. just a little. enough to make your lips part with a gasp. but he stopped instantly, not moving, just whispering against your cheek.

“breathe for me, sweetheart. you’re doing so fucking good.”

you nodded, clinging to his shoulders, letting yourself relax little by little until your body opened for him.

he began to move—not fast, but deep and fluid, his voice rasping against your ear with every thrust.

“you feel unreal,” he groaned. “so tight. so fucking warm. shit—you're making me lose my mind.”

your nails dug into his back. you couldn’t think. could barely breathe. all you knew was him—his scent, his voice, his body fitting against yours like you were made for this moment.

“does it feel good, baby?” he asked, barely holding it together.

“yes,” you moaned. “it feels so good, haechan.”

he reached between you, his fingers finding that perfect spot again, circling gently as his hips rolled deeper.

“i want you to cum for me,” he whispered, eyes flicking up to the mirror across the room.

and that’s when you saw it too—the reflection.

the sight of yourself, spread out beneath him, his body covering yours, the way his hips rolled into you, slow but relentless, the way your mouth fell open in pleasure.

you locked eyes with him through the mirror.

“look at you,” he said. “so fucking pretty. you should see what i see. you should see what you do to me.”

you whimpered, already close. the feeling of him inside you, the way he praised you, the reflection showing you everything you felt but couldn’t describe—it pushed you right to the edge.

“you’re mine,” he growled, thrusting deeper. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you gasped, back arching.

“again.”

“i’m yours, haechan—fuck—i’m—”

the orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave. your whole body trembled as you clung to him, moaning his name like a confession.

he followed with a deep, broken moan, hips grinding into you as he came, his entire body tensing above yours, the sound of your names and curses filling the air as he spilled inside you, raw and unfiltered.

afterward, he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his chest, kissing your forehead with trembling lips.

“i’ve never felt anything like that,” he whispered.

you couldn’t answer. your body was still shaking, your mind a mess of stars and heat.

he held you close, running his fingers up and down your spine.

and for a long time, neither of you spoke.

because nothing needed to be said.

haechan stood by the door, shirtless, hair messy, pulling on his sweatpants with a crooked grin on his face.

“be right back,” he said, grabbing his keys. “we are out of condoms.”

your heart jumped at how casually he said it. like he already knew you weren’t done. like he couldn’t wait to get his hands back on you.

“don’t be long,” you said, your voice a little hoarse, a little needy.

“i’ll run,” he smirked, and you believed him.

the moment the door closed behind him, your body buzzed with anticipation. you felt sore, satisfied… and yet completely empty without him there.

a little while later, you were curled up on his couch wearing nothing but his oversized hoodie, legs tucked under you, sipping water with your thighs still trembling from everything he just made you feel.

your mind ran wild imagining all the things he’d do when he got back.

and oh—he did.

he came back ten minutes later, breathless and grinning, holding a bag with the corner of a box peeking out.

“miss me?” he teased.

“shut up,” you mumbled, biting your lip as he approached you on the couch.

but he didn’t give you time to banter. his mouth was on yours again, hungry and hot, hands already sliding under the hoodie like he’d been starving the whole way back.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he growled into your ear, lips dragging down your neck. “every fucking step i ran, i was thinking about how wet you were. how tight. how you said my name when you came.”

you whimpered, legs parting automatically as he knelt between them on the couch.

but this time—he was different. rougher. more commanding. his eyes darker.

“get up,” he whispered, pulling you to your feet.

“where are we—?”

“shower,” he said. “now.”

you didn’t argue.

the water hit your skin like a shock, but his body was hotter. he pressed you up against the cool tile wall, mouth devouring yours as his hands slid down to your ass, lifting you up, making you wrap your legs around him.

“you’re mine tonight,” he growled against your lips. “no stopping now. you started this—now i’m gonna finish it. again and again.”

your back hit the wall as he slid into you, wet and desperate. the sounds of skin against skin, water splashing, your moans echoing in the steam—filthy and perfect.

you lost count of how many times he made you come.

after the shower, he didn’t even let you dry off.

he carried you—carried—naked and dripping, to the living room, laying you over the back of the couch. your knees barely held as he bent you forward, one hand gripping your hip, the other sliding between your legs.

“still so wet?” he teased, running his fingers through your folds. “what did i do to you, baby?”

“you ruined me,” you gasped, pushing back against his hand.

“good,” he hissed. “you’re gonna take me again. right here.”

and you did.

he fucked you from behind on the couch, your moans muffled in the cushion, your fingers clawing at the leather. he didn’t let up—he used you, praised you, told you how fucking hot you looked taking him like that.

then the kitchen.

you barely made it there.

he bent you over the counter, spreading your legs with a low groan.

“you trust me?” he asked, voice low and rough.

“yes,” you breathed.

“good,” he said, sliding in again, slow and deep. “because i'm not holding back anymore.”

he fucked you while gripping your hips, your body slamming gently into the counter with each thrust, your breath fogging the cold surface.

“so fucking perfect,” he groaned. “you were made for me.”

then came the dining table.

you ended up on it—legs open, arms thrown over your head, his name spilling from your lips like a mantra. he kissed every inch of your body, left love bites on your thighs, praised every moan and whimper you gave him.

you didn’t even remember how many condoms you went through until—

“fuck,” he muttered, breathless, sweaty. “last one’s gone.”

the apartment was thick with heat and the smell of sex. your bodies glistened with sweat, tangled over the polished wood of the dining table. haechan’s chest was pressed to your back, his arms wrapped tightly around you as both of you struggled to catch your breath.

it wasn’t until the digital clock on the microwave blinked 4:02 AM that either of you realized how much time had passed.

“shit,” you whispered with a soft laugh, still breathless.

“yeah…” haechan’s voice was husky, worn out, but content. he pressed a lazy kiss to your shoulder. “we’ve been at this for hours. you okay?”

you nodded, eyes half-lidded, still processing everything. your body felt sore, used in the best possible way, and your heart was floating somewhere between exhaustion and complete peace.

he helped you off the table, careful and gentle now, holding you by the waist as you stumbled a little, your legs wobbly. you both laughed quietly at that, and he gave you a soft kiss on the forehead.

“come on,” he murmured. “let’s clean up and go to bed before the sun comes up.”

the warmth of his bed was a balm against your tender skin. after a quick rinse in the bathroom and slipping into one of his worn shirts, you curled up against him under the covers. his fingers traced light circles on your back as you lay there, your leg thrown over his, his other arm wrapped around you like you were something fragile and precious.

“you okay?” he asked again, softer this time. there was a hint of vulnerability in his voice—like he was afraid this had been too much.

you nodded into his chest.

“i’m more than okay,” you whispered. “i feel… safe. and really, really good.”

he exhaled a little laugh of relief and kissed the top of your head. the silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was peaceful. comforting. like your bodies had said everything your mouths didn’t need to.

soon enough, your breaths synced. his hand stayed on your waist as you both drifted off to sleep.

the next morning came slowly.

soft rays of sunlight filtered in through the curtains, painting lazy golden streaks across the sheets. you blinked awake first, still pressed against his warm body. his hand was splayed over your stomach, holding you close, and his legs were tangled with yours beneath the covers.

you didn’t want to move.

there was a quiet hum in your chest, that afterglow still lingering like a dream. you turned slightly to look at him—his hair was messy, lips parted, eyelashes resting gently on his cheeks. peaceful. beautiful.

you shifted a little, and he stirred, eyes barely opening.

“mmm,” he murmured. “you’re still here.”

“where else would i be?” you whispered.

he smiled, still half-asleep, and pulled you closer.

“good,” he said, voice low and raspy. “i want you right here. just like this.”

you melted into him, your heart full, your body still tingling in places, and thought maybe—just maybe—waking up like this with haechan could become your favorite part of any day.

haechan made breakfast in nothing but his boxers, hair still messy from sleep, humming some old song as you sat on the counter, wearing only his oversized t-shirt and the glow he’d left on your skin.

there was laughter. soft jokes. syrup on your lips that he licked off with a grin.

and when you finally curled back into the couch, your head on his shoulder, legs tangled under a shared blanket, it didn’t feel strange.

it didn’t feel like you’d crossed a line.

it felt like you’d stepped into something deeper.

he looked at you then, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek, and whispered:

“you know… i think we’re still us.”

you smiled, heart fluttering.

because he was right.

maybe in the end, sex doesn’t ruin the friendship— it transforms it.

[viasdreams]

‧₊˚✩ ₊˚🫧⊹♡

sending dream pics with their photocards in your cleavage !!

a/n: little secret for yall…yn in chenle’s is me👅dont slide into my dms all at once now!!!

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

⋆⭒˚.⋆ Self-On Kode with Mark ⋆⭒˚.⋆

idol!Mark x f!idol!reader

summary: you and you boyfriend Mark are paired up for an interview, but do you even know you're texting each other? No.

(cw: f!reader, idol!reader)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Mark got comfortable in the plush, pink chair of the Kode set with a shy smile, "Ah hello, I'm Mark from NCT." He pushes his earbuds into his ears and begins playing his music, "today I'll be known as Cheetah. Um, I couldn't really think of anything else and the fans already call me a cheetah so it was easy to think of."

On the opposite side of the wall, you settle into your own chair while smiling at the camera while introducing yourself, "I was so confused when I was asked to pick a wild cat as my screen name. It was such an oddly specific category, and even weirder when you told me cheetah was already taken. Anyway, I chose Tiger because they're the next prettiest."

Your music begins to play through your earbuds as your phone vibrates from the first message from your partner. "Yo?" you read in confusion, staring at your screen with pure confusion, "is that it? This is a man isn't it? Girls don't talk like this."

On the other side of the wall Mark laughs softly, covering his mouth as he reads the message. "This person is so happy. I've never seen anyone write hi with this many i's."

You and Mark text back and forth for a while, sharing your hobbies and sending memes back and forth until the both of your are giggling madly on your respective sides of the set. Of course, after nearly 2 years together you'd know how to make each other laugh, even without knowing you're texting each other. Your partner still doesn't give you any identifying traits or hints as to who they are. Well, besides clearly being a man based on how he texts.

Following the instruction of the staff, you send a screenshot of your home screen. You pout, feeling slightly bad for your partner. Just two days ago you'd gotten a new phone and hadn't yet had the time to make it yours. It was stuck with the boring default background and a handful of apps you considered to be essential. You explain as much with the text accompanying the screenshot.

And Mark's screenshot? Well, it might as well be just as boring as yours. He has the blur set on the photo so all you see is an indistinct mess of colors. Two distinct blobs which could be the shape of two people or two flowers or two guitars or two cats.

"Wow," you say as you typed out the word, "we are two very boring people. You really don't want me to know who you are."

Mark laughs out brightly while he reads your text, "me? You haven't even changed your own yet!"

"I told you I just got a new phone and haven't had time yet!" You laugh to yourself while typing out your message.

Your joking back and forth gets the two of you off track while you playfully poke fun at each other back and forth until the staff ask you both who you think you're texting. Mark looks at the camera while he tries to think, "I have no clue. It's a girl, surely but it could be anyone. Do you pick random people off the street to do these videos?"

On the other side of the wall, you blush softly, covering your face while your face cools down, "is it weird if I say it's my boyfriend? He just seems so much like Mark."

It's one of the few times you've ever referred to Mark as your boyfriend for any sort media. You and Mark had technically been a public couple for about a year now, since your respective companies had come out with their statements to reveal your relationship. How you'd been able to conceal a year of your relationship was beyond the both of you. Well, a lot of dark, oversized clothes and hats and masks to conceal your faces.

After the company statements, you and Mark seemed to be even better at hiding. You barely glanced at each other at award shows, and if you did, it was only friendly, nothing that could be interpreted as anything else. There were very few glimpses into your relationship beyond birthday and anniversary posts with obscured faces and sharing each other's most recent comebacks on your stories. Privacy was something you both valued and of course you were more than ok with doing any type of promotion with Mark, it just never worked out that way. Until now (not that you knew). Plus, it wasn't like this interview would give anyone any important details of your relationship anyway.

When the staff prompt you both to share a screenshot of your most recently listened to songs, you stare at your screen with a look of blank surprise, "this is just a mix of Drake and Justin Bieber. It's Mark, it has to be."

You zoom in on the picture, mumbling about how you see more music that is so distinctly Mark while on the other side Mark looks at the screenshot you send excitedly. "She's a fan! Of me! Wow, she's listened to Child and Golden Hour and 200! Ok, I have to chill out a bit," he tells himself even as he types out his message telling you that you have good music taste.

You snort at his message just as the staff laugh at the exchange at the same time. The head producer instructs you both to find your baby pictures to send to the other.

You look up from your phone, looking at the camera and the staff, "surely, you'd think a couple who have been together for this long have seen pictures of each other when they were kids, right?" The staff nods in response before you speak again, "well, we haven't! I've only seen what has been posted online. Same for him!"

Mark sends you a picture of him as a baby where he's a few months old and you coo immediately. You zoom in as close as you can drawing your phone closer to you face as you star adoringly at the baby on your screen. "He's the cutest little thing I've ever seen! I've never seen a cuter baby in my life! Oh, I just want to squeeze his cheeks and cuddle him," you gush over the adorable picture of the chubby baby boy with an adoring look on your face.

Mark looks at his phone, the camera, the staff, his phone again, the camera again with a look of pure and utter confusion as he looks at what he can only assume is a child covered in frosting. "You can barely tell this is a human, how is this supposed to help me figure out who I've been texting?" Mark asks, zooming in on the picture while the staff bursts out in laughter. When he finds out who he's talking to...

So when he staff ask for a final guess as to who you've been texting you say Mark's name confidently while Mark ultimately utters out, "Maybe someone from a girl group... maybe it's Yeri."

When the staff ask you both to stand and get ready to face each other to reveal yourselves. Instead of walking toward Mark, you find yourself behind the set so you're behind Mark.

Mark walks forward slowly, waiting to see when he'll spot his interview partner, but when he sees an empty spot, he faces the camera and the staff with a quizzical smile, "was I talking to a ghost?"

They laugh softly and murmur amongst themselves while you finally reach forward and tap his shoulder softly. Mark jumps, completely scared by the touch. He turns to you with his eyes wide with surprise, "you?!"

"Yes, me!"

After you're both seated at the high top table and calmed down from the surprise meeting with on another, you're both ready to talk to each other in front of the camera once again. You smile softly at your boyfriend, "I knew it was you."

Mark scoffs, "how?"

"Yo," you repeat the word from his first message with a poor imitation of his voice, "all the Drake, all the Bieber-- oh my gosh, Mark! Your baby picture!"

Mark laughs, taking your hand in his out of view of the camera, "speaking of baby pictures, what did you send me?"

Your brows furrow softly at his question, "I sent you a picture of me as a baby."

"There's no way that was you. You look like a little cake monster."

"It was from my first birthday..." you pout at Mark.

"Don't get pouty with me, you were completely covered, how could I have known? I can pout too! My face used to be your homescreen and now it's the plain default screen," Mark tells you with a playful pointed look.

"Mark," you deadpan, "you were with me when I got my new phone."

"Oh yeah..." Mark blushes with embarrassment.

"Anyway, who did you think I was?"

Mark squeezes your hand nervously beneath the table, his thumb rubbing at your knuckles a little anxiously, "I had no clue, to be honest. I knew you were a girl but I didn't know it was you."

When the staff ask Mark how he didn't know but you did, all he can do is blush and laugh out a nervous response. You turn to him with a playful accusatory look of your own, "yeah, how come you didn't know?"

"I don't really pay attention to how you text, just what we text about..."

You and the staff coo as you pinch his cheeks and cup his face lovingly, "you're so cute, but you were cuter as a baby."

"My mom says the same thing," Mark rolls his eyes.

Your conversation winds down and you both pose for the selfie at the end. You both pull silly faces, cheeks pressed together and eyes scrunched shut with your tongues sticking out.

Despite the stupid picture you both took, the screen fades to black with a completely different picture of you and Mark laughing while looking at each other with hearts in your eyes and bright smiles on your faces.

[sweetiechenle]

hiiii! can I request a where reader sleeps over at mark but he wakes with a morning wood for the first time and there both shy and embarrassed cs they’ve never really been intimate like that. js something cute it can lead to smut if you want :))

pairing: mark x afab!reader

w.c: 1.8k

warnings: mdni 18+, established relationship, spending the night for the first time, mark is so sweet oh my god i will cry, reader is shy but bold, pet names, soft mark, he is so in love, mentions of spiderman because well yeah its mark, blowjob, oral (m receiving), vocal mark, implied smut for the future idk, thank you for requesting!! requests are always open ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

you steadily awoke, blinking your eyes open rapidly, trying to adjust to the sunlight filtering through the window. hot breath graced your hair, tickling your ear, making you squirm slightly in your boyfriends hold. last night, mark convinced you to stay the night, going as far as to admit that the second spiderman movie was superior to the third one (tom hollands spiderman, of course). you never stayed the night at his apartment, the opportunity never arising but the clouds had been crying all day, rain pelting anything in sight. mark refused to let you go home in these conditions, so when you asked him for a ride home instead of walking to the subway station, he suggested you just stay the night.

after bickering back and forth of 'i don't want to intrude' and 'i want you to's', you agreed after mark got onto his knees stating 'what if i said that far from home is the best spiderman movie?' he was giving you a pout with pleading eyes that shone under the light. they were wide and sparkling, it was almost comical but cute and convincing.

'even better than no way home?' you quirked your brow in amusement at the situation unfolding before you. mark was so dramatic and undeniably funny, one of the many reasons why you love him.

he dropped his head in defeat, sighing, 'yes... even better than no way home' voicing his downfall.

after dinner, you both watched a movie tangled together on the couch, eyes growing heavy from the antics of the day. mark turned the tv off and suggested you both head to bed, you promptly asked for a pillow and blanket, staying seated on the couch as he stood up. tilting his head to the side he laughed, 'what?'

your cheeks grew hot in embarrassment, did you say something wrong? 'i thought we were going to bed... i didn't bring a pillow and blanket with me...' staring down at your hands in your lap, you picked at your hangnails.

'baby, you are not sleeping on the couch' mark chuckled, insane that you even insinuated the idea of it. he lightly grabbed your hand, guiding you to stand up with him, 'if you don't feel comfortable sharing a bed, i will sleep on the couch, there's no way you are' he stated, still holding onto your hand.

you nodded, 'i didn't know, we can share a bed' you'd been in his bedroom countless times, he would be working on his laptop while you'd laid on his bed scrolling through your phone, or he would play you a song on his guitar sitting on his bed, back against the headboard as you listened while in his desk chair. so, this should be no different.

he offered you some old clothes, pajama pants that fit you around the waist ever so slightly, but the hems going over your feet. a shirt that was five years old and dared to expose your shoulder from how big it was. it was perfect. cozy, soft, and smelled like mark.

he brought you to his bathroom, he insisted on washing your face and applied way too much moisturizer to your skin, which prompted him to take some off your face and put it on his. it seemed like he had everything you needed, an extra toothbrush, phone charger, and slippers.

once you were finished, he brought you to his bed and opened the sheets for you, gesturing for you to climb in first, getting the spot next to the wall while he took the one closest to the door. he clicked the lamp off, and mark shimmied closer to you, slowly wrapping his arms around you asking 'is this okay?'

you glanced up at him, features more defined under the moon shining through the curtains, 'yes, of course' he smiled, nuzzling his nose into your hair, taking in the scent with a deep breath.

'good night baby,' he kissed your head, 'i love you' you melted once the words hit your ears, it wasn't said often but special every time it was fabricated into the real world.

'i love you too' you whispered, moving closer to him as much as you could, closing your eyes as marks scent filled your senses, his warm body radiating the perfect amount of heat to yours, soft sheets that hugged you almost as well as he was. it was hard not to quickly drift off to dreamland.

which brought you to the morning after, mark still having an iron grip tight hold on you and lightly snoring in your ears as you tried to count his breathing. that was until something else caught your attention, mark brought you in closer, shoving his nose into your neck, pulling your body flush with his. you could feel something hard on the back of your thigh and if your suspicions were right then this could get interesting. you and mark had not been that sexually involved... yet. stating he had wanted to take his time with you, that he would be ready whenever you were. never going further than making out and scandalous touches over each others bodies. you didn't mind and it seemed like he didn't either as he never pressured you into doing anything more, but you had been ready for a while, the conversation just never coming up. it seemed like sex wasn't that important to either of you.

you stirred as his nose tickled your neck, causing him to wake up, long eyelashes batting as he tried to fight the sleepiness away. 'mornin' baby' he yawned, voice low and groggy. you smiled up at him, stealing glances at his face under the warm glow of the sun peeking in through the curtains.

'mmm' you giggled, 'don't yawn, you're gonna make me yawn' of course watching him do just that triggered a yawn out of you which made him laugh, grabbing you tighter and shaking you in rhythm with the sound. and now being so close made you feel his morning wood again, which made you freeze in his hold

he noticed the way you seemed to tighten your muscles and go stiff, 'what's wrong baby?'

you blushed, should it be brought up? did you want to embarrass your boyfriend like that? it was kind of hard to ignore it... 'oh, um, it seems like you have a problem' you slurred out the last words, hoping he would pick up whatever you were putting down.

dropping the ball completely your words were lost on him, 'oh?' you shifted your leg, making his move in response, eyes wide in shock 'oh' he finally picked it up.

his ears were already hot in embarrassment, your chest caved in its secondhandness, and you now feel bad that you brought it up. 'i-im so so-' he started, moving away from you, face now wearing a pink hue.

you grabbed his wrist, bringing him back closer to you, 'i-i could help you...' whispering, 'if you want' heart beating so fast from the suggestion, half excited, half anxious.

'oh, you really don't have to' his smile faltered, 'i can take care of it in the bathroom or something.'

your occasional innocent facade cracking, 'i want to, please' giving him the best pouty face you could muster.

he sighed and moved towards his pillow, back now slouched against the headboard, his eyes darkening with lust, 'only if you want to babe, i can't refuse you'

you smiled at the green light, climbing on top of him, grasping both shoulders in your hands, you leaned in. he tilted his head to the side, allowing easy access for your lips. he still tasted like the toothpaste you had used last night, exploring his mouth with such delicacy, taking your time with him. lightly grinding your hips down onto his groin made him moan into your mouth. a string of curse words leaving his lips in a raspy tone, still trying to overcome sleep.

making sure to kiss the moles that adorned his face, you then moved onto his neck, sucking light bruises into the sensitive skin. mark let out wanton moans, always vocal in the best ways, a sound you could listen to for the rest of your life.

you continued to move backwards until your reached his crotch. the bugle defined in his pajama pants making your mouth water, you always imagined what it would look like, your boyfriend was too handsome and sexy for you not to sometimes picture moments like this before bed or in the shower.

you reached for the waistband of his pants and underwear, pulling them both down together, sitting them near his thigh. his cock sprung free from its confines, lightly slapping against his toned stomach. 'so pretty' you said more to yourself than to him. you grabbed it and pumped his member up and down, mark sucked in a breath, eyes shut due to the bliss.

you brought your head down, mouth closer to the red, bulbous tip. you gently licked a strip up the shaft, testing the waters before diving in head first. literally.

mark groaned again, bringing his hand to your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, grasping lightly. you went ahead and took him into your mouth, easing his member in inch by inch. he didn't push you but guided you through it. 'fuck baby, that feels s-so good' he gasps, chest moving up and down rapidly.

once your nose touched his pubic bone you started moving, bobbing your head up and down sensually before your movements grew faster. mark jerked his hips into your mouth, making you choke a bit, 'i-i fuck i'm sorry' he blabbered, gripping your hair tighter. you moaned around him, making his body vibrate in response.

the wet sounds and marks panting filled up the room, breaking through the silence of the morning. it was absolute debauchery. you could tell he was close, fingers holding your hair like a vice, the other hand grasping the sheets, eyes staring at you through thick eyelashes as he watched you suck his dick.

you sucked in harder, cheeks caving in as drool pools into your mouth and around marks thick cock. 'o-oh my god, baby, just like that' the praise making you go faster, wanting him to reach his high soon due to the ache in your jaw and between your thighs.

you brought your hand up to grasp whatever you didn't put into your mouth, moving hit in tandem with your mouth, mark cried above you, whimpering that he was coming to come soon. you moaned again not stopping, the quiver leaving him to groan vehemently.

hot liquid filled your mouth as you tried to swallow all of his come. some of it dribbling off of your chin and onto marks thighs, he panted above you, as you pulled off of him and wiped your mouth. moving back down to pepper kisses over his thighs, lightly sucking to make your mark on him.

lust overtaking him completely, forcing you up back to meet his eyes, 'my turn' he growled out.

[kiszjuli]

MY GIRL .ᐟ

✸ shy!mark x fem!reader | genre. fluff. | w.c 2.2k | ♡

↳ synopsis. in which mark has apparently claimed you in his heart, and to no one other than his friends. hiding his feelings thinking that he didn’t have a chance, he gets extremely jealous when someone tries to ask you out for valentine’s day. you’re his girl.

↳playlist. designer - nct 127, just the way you are - bruno mars, can’t take my eyes off of you - frankie valli, when im with you - nct dream, night poem - nct dream, can’t help falling in love - elvis presley.

the student lounge was buzzing with laughter and chatter, the sounds of friends catching up and making plans for the upcoming 3-day weekend. mark sat at a corner table with his group of friends, jeno, donghyuck, and jisung. but his gaze and attention kept drifting to you. you were seated at a nearby table with your own group of friends. you were always effortlessly surrounded by people, your laugh ringing in his ears like his favorite song. mark had always admired how easily you lit up every room you entered, how everyone seemed drawn to your warmth and energy. and how-

“earth to mark,” jeno’s voice broke him from his thoughts, and Mark blinked, seeing his friends hand waving in front of his face. he looked up at his friend with a forced smile.

“huh? oh, yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, fixing the hat on his head, trying to look more engaged but failing.

jisung raised an eyebrow, noticing the direction mark was looking. “you good, man?” he asked, his voice casual but with an underlying hint of curiosity.

nodding quickly, mark then shifted in his seat. “yeah, i’m fine. just… trying to focus, you know?” He waved his hand brushing them off, though his eyes couldn’t help but flick back to you for a moment.

donghyuck catches where his eyes dart, and a knowing look forms on his face. “you sure? you’ve been staring at her all afternoon,” donghyuck added with a grin.

mark immediately blushed, feeling heat rush to his face. “what? no! i wasn’t staring,” he protested a little too quickly, tugging his hat lower to hide his face. “i just—uh, i’m just lost in thought.” he muttered, his voice cracking slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

jeno smirked. “uh-huh, sure. if you say so. but you’ve been acting kinda weird lately. you sure there’s nothing going on?”

mark swallowed hard, his heart racing at the thought of you. He had always admired you from a distance, but you were popular, way out of his league. his friends knew about his little crush on you, but he didn’t think they understood the full extent of it. he wasn’t even sure you saw him as more than a mere friend.

“i-idon’t know,” mark muttered, his voice quieter than usual. “it’s just… she’s always so surrounded by people, you know? she’s pretty much got everyone’s attention all the time.”

jeno leaned back, a teasing glint in his eyes. “she’s definitely got yours” his comment earning a laugh from the other two.

mark’s face flushed deeper, and he slumped in his seat. “no guys, seriously,” he mumbled, trying to play it cool but failing miserably. “she’s just… i don’t know. she’s popular, and i’m just… me.”

“yeah, well, ‘just you’ is exactly why you’ve got a shot,” donghyuck said, his voice light but encouraging. “you think she doesn’t notice? she does. she’s not blind, mark.”

“exactly,” jisung added, leaning back in his chair. “you’ve been acting like a nervous mess every time she’s around. maybe it’s time you do something about it, yeah?”

mark shot a small glance toward your table, his heart skipping a beat as you caught his eye for a second. he quickly adverted his gaze, pretending to be interested in something in front of him.

jeno chuckled and patted him on the back. “mark, you’ve got this. you just have to take a chance. she’s not some unreachable goddess. if you really like her, go for it. stop hiding behind your ‘I’m fine’ act.”

mark gave him a small, unsure smile. “maybe. i’ll think about it,”

but deep down, mark was terrified. he could never imagine you looking at him the way he looked at you. you were popular, funny, and effortlessly charming. he was… well, just mark.

as you laughed from across the room, mark’s heart gave an involuntary flutter. maybe his friends were right—maybe it was time to stand up and stop pretending he didn’t want more. more than to just watch you from afar. but for now, he stayed where he was, silently watching, unsure if he’d ever have the courage to tell you how he truly felt.

—

classes were now over, and small groups of people were in the large theater, helping set up for valentine's day. your school was hosting a valentine's day fundraiser, where the campus would raise money for local charities. this year's theme 'music for the heart'- likewise, the main attraction was the music appreciation raffle.

you were there of course, running the “song dedication booth” where students could pay a small fee to have a song dedicated to someone during the open mic. you decorated the booth yourself: choosing some white fairy lights to outline the sign, with red heart balloons all around, and of course some cut out music notes that you had done earlier.

“okay, so you want ‘can’t take my eyes off you’ for your girlfriend? great choice,” you said with a smile, writing the request onto the list. “she’ll love it.”

mark watched you from the edge of the stage, where he was tuning his guitar for his performance later. he could hear your cheerful voice as you talked with students, helping them pick the perfect songs. the way you talked about music, your passion shining through every suggestion and question, made his chest tighten.

“she’s really into this,” jisung remarked from behind the drum kit, glancing between mark and you. “you’re playing tonight, right? finally gonna make your move?”

mark glanced over at his friends—jeno adjusting his bass strap and dongkyuck pretending to help. he quickly averted his gaze, nervously strumming his guitar. “i don’t know,” he muttered. “she’s got so much going on. she’s busy.” he made excuses.

donghyuck rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “she’s running a music related booth, mark. if there’s ever a chance to make conversation, it’s right now.”

hesitant, he glanced back at you as you laughed with another student. “but what if she doesn’t feel the same way?” he said quietly.

“dude, she smiles at you differently than anyone else,” jeno chimed in. “i don’t think you realize how obvious you are. she’s into you too, but you can’t wait forever.”

the idea of putting himself out there, of confessing how he felt in front of everyone, made his palms sweat. he just couldn’t.

“why not dedicate your song to her?” jisung spoke up, his voice softer

mark’s heart pounded knowing that his song was already dedicated to you, having thought about it for weeks beforehand. he was going to perform ‘just the way you are’ by bruno mars.

mark glanced up, and his heart nearly stopped when he saw you looking his way, the fairy lights illuminated your features in the best way as you gave him a small, bright smile. he awkwardly waved back, his stomach flipping as you returned your attention to the students walking your way.

“smooth,” donghyuck muttered, biting back a laugh.

“shut up,” mark mumbled, his face heating up.

—

the lights in the theater dimmed, and the crowd hushed as mark stepped onto the stage, his guitar slung over his shoulder. you stood near the back of the room, watching as he adjusted the mic, his hands trembling slightly. you felt a smile creeping to your face.

“this one’s for someone special,” he said, his voice quiet but steady.

your best friend, winter nudged your shoulder and you glared at her with a laugh. she always teased you about your slight crush on the boy.

as the familiar chords of “just the way you are” filled the room, your heart skipped a beat. mark’s voice was soft yet filled with emotion, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you.

when he sang, “her eyes, her eyes make the stars look like they’re not shining,” you felt your cheeks flush. feeling like you were looking too much into it, you shook your head slightly and glanced down at your shoes.

by the final verse, everyone was entranced by his voice. when the song ended, the applause broke the spell, but mark’s gaze lingered on yours, his lips curving into a shy smile.

—

the rest of the fundraiser went extremely well. the crowd winding down and now you found yourself starting to pack up your things at you booth.

“hey,” a voice interrupted, making you glance up.

It was a guy from one of your classes, holding a small bouquet of roses in his hands. he looked nervous but determined as he stepped closer to your booth.

“oh, hi!” you greeted warmly, taking a pause from packing up.

mark saw it from across the student center—the way the guy nervously walked up to you, clutching a small bouquet of flowers, his face tinged pink, your kind but still friendly smile. frozen in place, his chest tightened. he couldn’t hear the conversation, but he didn’t need to. the way the guy was smiling at you and the way you politely smiled back made it clear what was happening. but you were his girl. even if that guy didn’t know it yet.

of course someone else would ask you out. he knew it was going to happen at some point, always surrounded by people who admired you. and mark? he’d spent months hiding his feelings, thinking you’d never look at him that way.

but now as he sees the guy walk away from you-missing the slight frown on his face-he can’t stop his own two feet from moving towards you. his mind was racing. did you say yes? were you off limits now? labeled as someone else’s girl?

as he approached, you were gathering the last few things from your booth. you noticed him and looked up.

“oh, mark?” you asked tilting your head, still with bright eyes.

“hey,” he said, trying to sound casual but failing as his voice cracked slightly. “i, uh… i saw you talking to that guy just now.”

you raised an eyebrow, catching the uncertainty in his tone. “huh? oh yeah, he was just—”

“did you—did you say yes?” the words spilling out before he could stop them, and he winced as soon as he realized how frantic his voice sounded.

you blinked in surprise. “what?”

“to, uh… whatever he asked you…” mark said, rubbing the back of his neck, his face flushing. he was getting more and more choked up by the second. “i mean, obviously it’s fine if you did..it’s probably none of my business and- he seemed nice. i just…” he trailed off, his words stringing along as he avoided your gaze.

you stared at him for a moment before realizing what he was getting at. a soft laugh escaped your lips, and mark’s eyes darted to you, his brow furrowing in confusion. “what’s funny?”

“no, i didn’t say yes,” you said simply, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “i told him i wasn’t interested.” you said looking up, your grin still lingering on your face.

mark felt relief wash over him as a small smile tugged at his lips. however, disbelief still clouded his mind. “you..didn't?”

shaking your head you spoke. “nope,” your smile was warm yet teasing as you say his rosy cheeks darken a little. “i think i’d rather wait for someone i actually want to say yes to,”

mark just blinked, not knowing how to react. what did that mean? could you be talking about him? or was it someone else? why would you-

“mark,” you called out, breaking him from his thoughts. “if..you have something to say, now would be the time,” you said softly, stepping a little closer.

“well, i-i have been wanting to say something for a while now,” he started, taking a breath. “i like you a lot, like- a lot..but i just didn’t think i had a chance..”

your smile widened feeling a small heat rise to your cheeks too. “you always had a chance mark,”

relief mixed with disbelief washed over him. you felt the same way the whole time? he let out a nervous laugh, his shoulders finally relaxing. “so, does this mean i can ask you out now?”

“i think you just did,” you teased, your fingers fiddling together, as your heart beat a little faster.

mark grinned, his confidence growing. he reached out for your hand, still shaking but sure. “well, then… will you be my valentine?” he wanted to ask ‘will you be my girl?’ but this would do for now-slow steps, he told himself.

“i’d love to,” you replied, your eyes sparkling as you smiled at him.

“y/n! can you come here for a sec?” winter called for you from the studio room. she apologized later once she found out was was happening, but you brushed it off saying it was okay.

you looked to mark and stepped closer. you softly pressed your lips to his cheekbone and pulled away slowly. “come find me later?”

he nods with a hum, too star struck by you to form a sentence, or even a word. you smiled and walked off, now knowing that you finally had the guy you wanted. and mark walked back to his guitar to his teasing friends with a dopey, cheesy smile knowing that you were his girl.

and in that moment, mark felt that every doubt, every little hesitation, had been worth it.

—

⁀➷⊹ ࣪ ˖~ THE LA LA LOVE SERIES .ᐟ

taggies(open) ↳ @kittydollzz @huffnpufffckk @completelyjae @lovesuhng @nae-vm @ayibdorrt @chocoriki @yowmaman @yukisroom97

[hyuckiestarz]

bf!dreamies when you forget to kiss them goodbye

an; back to writing after 4 weeks so forgive me this is not good, but at least i tried ok. requested!

an2: your frogot...girl stand up

masterlist

[nerdlvr]

✩ tired? just a little.

(MDNI)

smut , mark lee x reader , established relationship , lazy sex , mark is in a suit , reader is like a stay at home girlfriend , riding/cowgirl , couch sex , marks a little bossy , lots of pet names , no condom , creampie , cumming quickly , requested here! , lmk if i missed anything

"hey beautiful, you waited for me?" the door clicked softly behind him, the soft jingle of his keys making your eyes flutter open.

you stretched you arms up, a loud whine leaving your lips, "missed you markie."

he chuckled softly as he shuffled towards you, hands tugging at the knot of his tie, "missed you more angel."

you tilted your head back on the couch to look at the tall man behind you, his eyes swollen with exhaustion.

he still managed to smile widely as he looked down at you, his hands coming down to hold your face, "thought about you all day."

he leaned down slowly, lips softly pressing against yours in a kiss.

you couldn't help the giggles that escaped you lips, his nose tickling the bottom of your chin as he pressed into you harder.

"what's wrong?" he leaned back slightly to stare at your upside down face.

you grinned wide, bringing a hand up to scratch your chin, "tickles."

he chuckled softly, crouching slightly to plant a kiss on your forehead, "silly girl- i'm gonna go get changed."

you reached for his arm as he turned away, tugging slightly to pull him towards you, "let me help you?"

he walked around the couch, sitting on the soft cushions with a low grunt, his legs spreading slightly as he leaned back, "alright then, help me undress- go on baby."

you shuffled onto your knees, leaning forward quickly to work on his tie. your fingers were quick, undoing the knot almost out of habit from many of his tired nights.

he moved his hands up to pull his loose tie off, your focus now on the small buttons on his shirt. you fumbled against his ironed top, your freshly done nails clashing against the buttons.

"let me-" he quickly undid his buttons, resting his arms back on the couch as he let you continue.

you blushed slightly, his chest now on full display as you pulled his tucked shirt out of his slacks.

his breath hitched as your hands reached for his belt, your soft hands lightly grazing his bulge as you worked against the buckle.

the image of you was borderline pornographic, your ass poked out, wiggling gently as your breasts rested on his thigh lazily, your hands pulling at his belt.

he reached his hand forward, sliding it along the length of you spine, watching as you shivered softly, a quiet breath leaving your lips, "mark-"

"keep going baby- you're not done yet." his hand moved further down your body to rub against your ass, sneakily running them under your tiny pajama shorts.

your breath was shaky as you dropped his belt to the floor, your hands moving instinctively towards the button of his pants, "oh my-" you pressed yourself deeper against his lap, moving your ass against his hand as you felt his fingers dip past your panties.

"need you to ride me princess- you like the sound of that hm?"

your whine was enough of a response, his hands moving away from your core to help you undo his pants instead.

you leaned back on your knees as you watched him unzip his pants, lazily tugging them down only enough to release his aching length.

"be good and sit on it."

he chuckled as you scrambled to get on top of him, too impatient to take your shorts off. you reached down to pull the fabric to the side, your core already wet from his light touches.

you pressed your entrance against the tip of his length, both of you moaning softly as you sunk down.

"o-oh mark." your head fell against his shoulder as you bottomed out, soft gasps leaving your lips as you rocked against him slightly.

he let out a loud groan, head dropping back against the couch as he let his eyes fall shut, "fuckk- ride this dick angel- come on-"

you lifted your hips slightly, only to press your hips back against his quickly. "m-mnh- feels so good- ah." you leaned forward, resting your weight on your knees as you held onto his shoulders for support.

you lifted your hips, starting a slow bouncing motion against his length. he was deep inside of you, his length sliding against your warm walls as you rode him languidly.

he lifted his head to look at you, his eyes dark as he watched your flushed face, your lip pulled tightly in between your teeth.

"just like that mama, riding me so good- keep going- i got you-" his hands moved down to grab your ass, guiding you slowly against his cock.

"m-mark, 'm gonna cum baby." you ducked your head, blushing in embarrassment as your soft pants warmed his chest.

"so soon? like me that much hm?" he grinned lazily as you nodded, soft whines leaving your lips as you began to rock your hips messily.

"it's okay baby- easyy- let go for me-"

you bit your lip harder to hide your pathetic moans, you eyes squeezing shut as your hips stilled against his, your body twitching softly as you came undone.

"m-mark-" you let out a breath as you sunk back down onto him, your core clenching tightly around him.

"stay still- let me fuck you-" he gripped onto your waist, lifting you slightly before bringing his hips up to meet yours.

you moaned softly, hands gripping the back of the couch as you remained steady, letting him use you as he pleased.

"f-fuck keep squeezing me like that baby- gonna cum in this tight little pussy-" he groaned against your neck, his hips rutting against your quickly as he chased his own orgasm.

"mark want you so bad- please-" you gasped softly as you felt him spill into you, his fingers bruising the skin of your waist as he pressed you flush against his hips.

"fu-fuckk baby-" he melted into the couch, hips stuttering against yours as you lifted your hips slightly to release him.

he was quick to stop you, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you in place, "d-don't go- i'm- i'm gonna faint- just let me-"

you giggled as you relaxed back into his lap, his length growing soft inside of you as you laid your head on his shoulder, "ten minute power nap before we shower?"

his voice was low, eyes already fluttering shut, "deal."

[hencheri]

— young lust

▸ 18+ mdni.

You want Mark so badly, but he thinks you’re too young for him. With a little more convincing though, he eventually gives you what you want—in a less than gentle way.

| pairing. rapper!mark x fem!reader

| warnings. mean mean mean mark!!, legal age gap, noncon/dubcon, degradation, reader is mean to mark as well oops, unprotected sex, choking.

| a.n.: this is just self-serving atp. hope it serves y'all too <3

Mark thinks he’s never been eye-fucked this hard before. He’s flattered, of course, but something’s off. 

You’re hot and very tempting, too, there’s no need in denying that. The little dress you’re wearing clings to your ass and he honestly can’t stop looking at it, especially with your back turned to him, occasionally glancing over your shoulder to meet Mark’s eyes. 

Your gaze is so obviously flirtatious, you don’t even try to be subtle. The finger stuck between your teeth and the look you send him tell Mark everything he needs to know; you want him as much as he wants you. 

He imagines your smaller body pressed against the bathroom wall, his hips clashing against your ass roughly, listening to your moans muffled by the loud music playing throughout the club. He sees it, that slutty mouth chanting his name like a prayer as he gropes your breasts with his palms through your dress. 

Mark looks at you before taking a sip from his alcoholic drink, then shifts his gaze back to Jisung standing in front of him.

“You know each other?” 

He’s taken off guard by the question, taking a second to respond. 

“Uh, no,” he thinks about what to say, but he really doesn’t have a clue on how to explain this… exchange. “We… we don’t.” 

Jisung sports a perplexed yet amused expression on his face. “So where is all that tension coming from?”

Mark raises a brow, eyeing you one last time, but you’re not looking at him anymore. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits, a faint smirk drawing on his lips. “Do you know her?” Mark asks in return, a little curious. 

He won’t lie that he likes the mystery of all this, not knowing who you are adds to the desire, to the inexplicable lust that draws him to you. He wants to mess around, do what he wishes just because he can. And that includes you. He wants to do you so bad. 

“Yeah, of course, we’re in the same company,” Jisung tells him, “she’s in this new girl group, you know. Up in the charts, just right under you,” his friend grins, looking at Mark to see his reaction.

He’s surprised for a second, uttering a “really?” and Jisung nods his head as a yes. 

Mark never pays attention to the charts, even though he gets reminded of them practically everyday. He’s aware of his success—way too aware of it—but he’s not the artist obsessed with numbers. He knows he makes good music and it’s all that matters to him. 

“I don’t know how you still haven’t heard of them already,” Jisung continues, “of her, especially.” He tilts his head in your direction, now both men’s attention on you. “Everyone’s fond of her.”

“Are you?” Mark wonders, narrowing his eyes at his friend. 

“Sure,” Jisung agrees, “she’s a sweetheart. Seems down to earth, for the few times we’ve talked.” 

This intrigues Mark. Does a sweetheart usually act so slutty with strangers? Perhaps he’s not a stranger to you, you very probably know him—everybody does—but he doesn’t think he’s ever gotten a girl this bold with him. And surely not someone who’s proclaimed to be a sweetheart, in this industry where anything opposite to pureness is unacceptable. 

He can feel your gaze on him now and he doesn’t hesitate to lock eyes with you once again. You laugh at whatever the person you’re talking to said, almost having Mark envious for not being the one making you laugh right now. 

You’re good at this, he thinks. Really good. Staring straight into his eyes, making him feel like he’s the centre of your attention when in reality you’re talking with someone else. If he could, he would take you with him, bring you to his car and fuck you directly onto his shiny leather seats, door wide open. He knows you’d love it. 

“Is she your age?” he says, taking a sip of his drink, eyes still on you until he hears Jisung’s answer.

“Uh, no, not exactly,” his friend responds, “younger, in fact.” 

He immediately breaks eye-contact with you, looking back at Jisung. Mark feels his heart starting to beat a little faster, suddenly anxious. Or is it embarrassment? Concern? Whatever it is, the desire he once felt, has now shifted. 

“What? How old?”

“Well, I’m not sure, Mark. 21, maybe?” Jisung frowns, trying to recall what you’d told him, but it wasn't information he really registered back then. 

Mark gulps down. He knew something was off, why didn’t he listen to his intuition?

He’s 25 and you’re 4 years younger than him. You’re barely an adult. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft now,” Jisung chuckles, noticing the deflated expression on his face. 

“Barely.” 

He empties his glass, settling it down on the counter near him after. He tells Jisung he’ll come back in 5, heading for the bathrooms. 

—-

Mark washes his hands in the sink, drying them off with a towel. He looks at himself in the mirror, leaning over the counter. The music is loud, making the ground vibrate under his feet, making it almost impossible for him to think. Maybe it’s a good thing, he can’t overthink, then. 

“You’ve abandoned me,” he hears a voice saying, lifting up his head just in time to see you entering the bathrooms. “I was wondering where you’ve been gone…” 

Your voice is as sultry as your eyes, as sensual as your body in this ridiculously tight dress. He can’t help but wander his eyes over your figure, looking at what now feels so immoral. If it wasn’t for that—morality—he wouldn’t stop himself from taking you right here and there, but something has to stop him. 

If nothing ever does, god knows all the things he would’ve done since now. 

You approach Mark with slow steps, a teasing smile on your lips, a very precise idea in mind. He wants to back away, leave, forget about everything, but he doesn’t. He’s curious, tempted. 

“Or maybe that’s where you wanted me to be?” you grin, putting your hand around his bicep, the other leaning on top of the counter. 

He stares back at you, unconvinced. “I was about to leave,” he explains, and he sees the glint in your eyes changing. You don’t like rejection. 

“Really?” you utter, the tone of your voice a pitch higher— sounding somewhat bitter. “I swore there was something between us… With the way you were looking at me,” you say, your hand lingering on his arm before removing it. “Do you often look at women like you want to fuck them and then leave them, Mark?”

This confirms that you know him. For some reason, he feels uneasy about the fact that he knows nothing about you but you know all about him. 

You get even closer, only a few centimetres before your body touches him. 

Truthfully, you were the only ever girl he was about to do this to. It didn’t feel like a big deal when he thought about it, but now that he’s been caught, he feels a little guilty. 

“I didn’t take you for a coward,” you whisper.

Mark arches his brow at that, wondering how in the hell did he get in such a situation. Getting called a coward by a brat? By a spoiled little girl who didn’t have to lift a finger for success to find her? 

“You should go back to your friends,” he carefully advises. 

But you find it funny, laughing softly. “So you are a coward, Mark Lee,” you mockingly say, tone condescending, tongue pressing behind your bottom teeth as his name leaves your mouth. “Are you afraid of something? Don’t worry, I don’t bite. Unless you’re into it?”

He keeps his hands away from you, as if the mere feeling of your skin under his fingertips would break down his barriers. He turns his head to the side, away from yours, as you roughly pull on his belt, your chest finally pressed down against his. 

“I know you want me,” you whine, “to touch me… Fuck me.” 

If he could only fall into temptation… Maybe it’d be easier to just follow his desires. Well, in the meantime it would be, but after? What if he regrets it? What if you regret it? He can’t sleep with every girl he sees. 

He never goes for anyone that is younger than him. Not that much, at least. What kind of man would he be? 

But goddamn, why are you so insistent? Why are you making it so difficult for him?

“You’re too young, okay?” 

You take a step back, letting go of him. Your eyebrows are frowned and you look at Mark like he’s the biggest idiot on earth. 

You scoff. “So that’s what you’re afraid of? My age?” 

You cross your arms over your chest, Mark turning his head toward you now that you’ve put some distance between you. 

“What did Jisung tell you?”

“That you’re 21,” he answers, wondering what you’re going to tell him. After all, what Jisung said could have been bullshit. He hopes, for a moment, that it was. 

Your lips quirk up, a chuckle leaving you. You look to the side then back to Mark. “I’m 20.”

His eyebrows knit together, annoyed that you find this funny again. What else can he expect from a 20 year old anyway? That you take this seriously? 

“You find this funny? Do you realize how much older I am?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, “and that’s why it’s funny. You’re scared of what? A five year difference?”

You step forward again, but Mark backs away this time, hitting the counter behind him. 

“You’re a fucking puss,” you insult him, full of arrogance. 

But something you didn’t expect happens; Mark knocks his body into yours, making you stumble back as he follows you until your back is flushed against the bathroom stall. His hand goes fast to your neck, squeezing. 

He leans in, the expression on his face furious. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore.

“You act like a spoiled little bitch and you wonder why I don’t want you?” For the first time tonight, you’re speechless. His nose brushes over your temple, so close you feel his breath fanning across your face. “Fucking learn how to accept when people tell you no. Learn to shut your mouth from time to time because they won’t like your ass in this industry if you keep this entitled attitude up.”

You’re looking down as Mark’s eyes bore into your skull, blood creeping up to your cheeks. You gulp, not having a word to say in return. You’d rather not talk back.

He eventually lets go of you, turning around and walking out, leaving you alone and… turned on. 

—-

“Hi, Markie.”

The last person he expected to see when entering his studio is certainly you. The only person supposed to be here is Jisung, and yet, here you are, smiling, eyes glinting teasingly. 

He looks at you, then at Jisung, sitting in front of his computer. He turns around on the rolling chair, totally unfazed by the fact that he brought a stranger into Mark’s studio. 

“What is this?” 

“This?” you question, but he ignores you, walking straight to his friend.

“Uh, well, you’ve already met I believe, no?” Jisung asks, slightly confused. He says your name and it’s all it takes to irritate Mark. “She wanted to come see us work, learn a thing or two. I thought it was a great idea.”

Jisung’s innocence is a good thing sometimes, really. It’s refreshing, quite funny, too, but right now, Mark wishes he wasn’t so credulous all the damn time. 

“It didn’t come to you to, maybe, ask for my permission?” he whispers, leaning in so you don’t properly hear him. 

Jisung’s brows raise up, simply shrugging. “Not really,” he admits, “I thought it wouldn’t bother you. I told you, she’s a sweetheart, and she promised to not interrupt too much. Right?” Jisung turns to you and your smile gets bigger, bobbing your head. 

“Absolutely.”

Mark looks hard at you, not believing this one second. Has god sent you on this earth to test him? 

You stare back at him sweetly, and he swears, if it wasn’t for Jisung’s presence, Mark would have made you regret it. Bitterly. 

Surprisingly, you did keep your promise. You didn’t disturb them once, even pretending to care about what they were working on. You seemed close to Jisung, actually being kind to him, the total opposite of how you were behaving the other night. You’re good at playing pretend, Mark realizes. 

Your eyes were on him the entire time, though. You had the same look as he recalled, eye-fucking him right here in his studio. He was pissed off, to say the least, but he didn’t make a comment. That would’ve been weird to say anything in front of Jisung and the last thing he wants is him thinking there’s something happening between you two— because there’s nothing.

He just hoped the end of the day would come rapidly, and it did, to Mark’s relief. 

With Jisung and you gone, he can finally work peacefully, nobody undressing him with their eyes. 

That is until he comes back into his studio.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” 

He’s lost all of his patience to be respectful to you now. He really doesn’t give a shit. How can someone be so stubborn?

“Told Ji’ I was going to call a taxi,” you explain, getting up from the sofa you’ve been sitting on. “I lied,” you smirk. 

Mark blinks at you, too shocked to say anything. You use the opportunity to get closer, bringing him to you, and then pushing him onto the sofa behind him. 

“Call me ‘too young’ all you want, I recognize a pervert when I see one.”

You don’t think twice before straddling his lap, sitting down on his thighs. Your hands come to rest on his shoulders, and even though Mark sends you the most murderous glare in the world, he does nothing to push you away. 

Curiosity, temptation. 

“If you didn’t know my age, you would have fucked me right against the bathroom stall if I had asked you to,” you affirm confidently, and there’s truth behind your words. Of course there is, Mark knows what he thought of you at first— what position he imagined you in, the sounds you’d make.

“Get off of me,” Mark barks back, his frowned eyebrows giving him this angry look that you like so much. 

You roll your eyes, sighing. “Here I thought I was the whiny little one, but you’re whinier than I am, Markie.”

“I’m not fucking whining, I’m giving you an order.”

“Get me off then,” you propose, grabbing both of his wrists and putting his hands on your hips. “Go on, do it. Or are you too scared to touch me?” You provoke him further, knowing you’ll eventually make him break down, sooner or later. 

“You don’t want me to, believe me.”

His threat has you shivering… and excited. 

“Why’s that?” you wonder, subtly moving your hips over his lap. “You’re sure you’re not the little bitch, hm, Markie?”

You should have expected him to snap sooner, because the moment you say this, he pins you down on the couch, you underneath him. His hold on your wrists is nothing gentle and you can’t even move them. If before you felt like the master of your own game, well now you’ve lost all sense of power, being Mark’s puppet and not the opposite. 

You’re shocked. Scared.

His hand closes immediately around your face, squishing your cheeks between his fingers. “Be disrespectful to me once again and I’ll break your fucking jaw,” he spits at you. “Has anybody ever told you to respect your elders, huh? I bet fucking not,” he snorts, “I’ll teach you some manners myself.”

You don’t understand until he reaches under your skirt, pulling down on your panties. Your eyes widen, letting out whines of protest.

“Stop, stop!” you stress out, trying to grab Mark’s hands now that yours are free. 

But he merely laughs, probably the first time you’ve ever heard him. “Ah, now you want me to stop? After all the begging you did so I’d fuck you.”

Mark doesn’t stop, working on his belt, undoing his pants. 

Your heart accelerates, and despite the worried look on your face, your eyes starting to water, the turn of events please you all too much. 

You briefly fight with him, pushing on his chest like a little girl, whimpering pathetically. Mark stays unfazed, easily taking both of your wrists in one hand and pinning it down above your head. He grunts as he pushes his hard cock into you, a gasp escaping your lips as you feel your walls expanding. 

You blink multiple times, taking a deep breath, and the tears roll down the side of your face, disappearing into your hair. It burns, but you’re so wet. 

You ask yourself if Mark knows you’re faking it, but with how delighted he seems to be forcing himself on you, you doubt that he does. Whatever pleases him. 

“It hurts!” You cry out, wiggling your legs, attempting to close them—to no avail—while he pushes himself all the way inside of your pussy. 

Mark snickers. He couldn’t care less.

“Oh, it hurts?” You nod, gulping down. “Tell me why it hurts.”

He doesn’t wait to move his hips back and forth, using you for his own sick pleasure right away without any second thought. You wanted this. You asked for this. Why should he be careful of you now? You shouldn’t have been so eager. Shouldn’t have acted like such a slut. 

“It-” you begin, but a moan of pain cuts you off, Mark’s hips slapping violently against yours; it has your body moving up, your head hitting the armrest of the couch. “You’re- You’re too…”

“Am I going too rough on your virgin little cunt? Poor girl,” he coos, almost laughing in your face. “Too bad I don’t give a shit, huh?”

You sob out when he keeps on with the assault of his hips, his cock defiling your pussy like you’ve never imagined before. Mark knocks the air out of your lungs, panting heavily above you, his already short nails digging into the fat of your thigh. 

You squirm around, pulling on your wrists, none of your attempts are successful— not like you want them to be anyway, but giving Mark a little of a fight is more fun. 

“Please, Mark, I’m sorry,” you beg, lips trembling. 

His eyes, filled with lust and hate at the same time, lay on you. 

“You should’ve thought about it before pushing me over the edge, if it’s pity you wanted.”