moonpjs

[moonpjs]

⭑ studying with donghyuck is so easy ﹙+18﹚

your hands trembled as you gripped the pen, legs barely holding steady under the weight of the pleasure still coursing through your body. your handwriting—usually clean, confident, practiced—was a mess. letters skewed, curves jagged, ink blotted with hesitation. everything past the fifth question looked like it was written by someone drunk on something far stronger than wine.

and in a way… you were. drunk on him.

donghyuck, your annoyingly brilliant boyfriend, was pressed up behind you, heat radiating from his chest into your back. he’d been helping you "study" for your quiz all night. that’s what he called it, anyway—study. though with how your nightgown was bunched around your waist and his cock was buried deep inside you, it felt a lot more like punishment than preparation.

“ten questions, baby. that’s all i asked,” he whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice a low, silken drawl that made your stomach twist. “you’re smart, yeah? you’re my girl. you can do this.”

his lips trailed down your neck, warm and wet and maddeningly slow, leaving kisses like little bursts of heat. you barely registered your scribbled answer to question eight until he glanced down and hummed approvingly, grinning like you’d just won an award. “good girl,” he cooed.

and then came the choice. “another reward?” his voice dipped, words slow and intentional. “or are you too tired already?”

you could still feel the ghosts of the earlier ones—the first few gentle, teasing licks that left you breathless… the way he had tugged your top down, flicking your nipples as he whispered filthy things that somehow made your toes curl and your heart flutter. he knew just how to talk to you. knew how to praise and corrupt in the same breath.

by the time you reached question six, he had you seated on his lap, legs spread, your slick soaking his thighs while he teased your clit with patient cruelty. and now? now, you were cockwarming him—his cock buried in your heat, thick and pulsing, unmoving—but so incredibly there.

every now and then, he twitched inside you, reminding you that he was just as needy, just as worked up.

you whimpered softly and reached for his hand, guiding it to your breast with a trembling breath.

“that’s my girl…” he whispered, pressing his lips to your shoulder. one hand rolled your nipple between his fingers, gentle but insistent, while the other ghosted down your stomach until it cupped your clit. you gasped as his fingers dipped lower, brushing against your slick folds, feeling just how ready you were for him.

“fuck, you’re so wet,” he growled, more to himself than to you. “you really like studying with me, huh?” a hint of mocking in his tone.

you couldn’t even answer. your eyes fluttered shut when he shifted beneath you, rocking his hips just enough to make you feel the stretch all over again.

but just when you tried to grind down against him, desperate for friction, for movement—for anything—his hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you still.

“nuh uh.” he chuckled, deep and dark. “not yet, greedy girl.”

“please…” you whined, voice breathless, almost broken. “just a little—”

“no.” he pulled his hands away from your body, making you feel the loss instantly. “you want to cum? answer the last question.”

you turned your head, eyes narrowed, lips trembling from frustration. “you’re so mean.”

he tilted his head and smiled sweetly, devilishly. “you’re the one who said you needed help studying. i’m just making sure you pass, baby.”

you let out a shaky breath, eyes flicking down to the page. one question left. just one. your thighs trembled from the effort it took not to move on his lap. your core ached—pulsing, dripping, desperate—and he was right there. inside you. still. waiting.

“do you wanna fail?” he asked, voice suddenly stern, dark and commanding in the way that made your stomach tighten. you shook your head quickly. “then you better start thinking.”

your hand trembled again as you reached for the pen, every nerve alive and alert—driven now by need, by frustration, by want and pride. and love. because god, you loved how he did this to you. how he could be so smart, so smug, so in control, and still look at you like you were his whole world.

you’d finish the damn quiz.

and fucking guaranteeing what you deserve.

your heart pounded as you scribbled down the final answer, shaky and barely legible, but you were sure it was right. or maybe you just hoped it was right—because you couldn’t wait another second. you dropped the pen, your breath catching in your throat as you whispered, “done…”

donghyuck leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder again as he glanced at the notebook. his eyes scanned your answer, and when he saw the correct words scribbled there, a slow grin stretched across his face.

“well, look at that,” he murmured, voice dripping with pride and something far darker. “my girl really is a genius.”

his hands moved instantly—no more teasing, no more holding back. he grabbed your hips and lifted you just slightly before slamming you back down onto his cock. the force knocked the air from your lungs, and your head lolled back onto his shoulder with a moan that sounded like surrender.

“fuck, i’ve been waiting,” he groaned against your ear, thrusting up into you again. “you feel that? that’s your reward, baby. you earned it.”

your fingers gripped the edge of the desk for balance as he began to move—slow, deep thrusts that rocked through your body like waves. the friction was intense. the fullness, overwhelming. you could feel every inch of him, stretching you just right, filling you completely.

and he didn’t stop praising you. “so smart. so fucking pretty when you’re focused. bet you’d ace every quiz if i fucked you like this after each one, huh?”

his lips found your neck again, this time biting softly before soothing the skin with warm, wet kisses. you were shaking again, but this time it wasn’t from nervousness. it was from the way your body was unraveling beneath his.

“you were so patient,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “now let me take care of you.”

one hand left your hip and moved between your legs, fingers sliding to your swollen clit. he circled it expertly, already knowing the rhythm that made your thighs twitch and your moans get high and breathless.

“hyuck—” you whimpered his name like a prayer, and he moaned softly, gripping your waist tighter.

“i know, baby. i know. let it go.”

and when you came—hard, fast, clenching around him like your body was trying to pull him deeper—you did so with your head thrown back, lips parted in a silent scream, tears welling in your eyes from the overwhelming wave of heat crashing through you.

he followed not long after, with a deep groan and a few more hard thrusts, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled into you, his whole body trembling.

for a few moments, there was only the sound of your breaths mingling—fast, uneven, needy. he wrapped his arms around you from behind, his mouth pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder.

“see?” he whispered, voice soft again. “i told you you’d ace it.”

you laughed, weak and breathless, leaning into his hold. “next time,” you murmured, “just quiz me in bed.”

he chuckled, pulling you tighter against him. “deal.”

｜ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𖹭 the smut part looks so rushed 😫😫 but i still like it sjdkkfk hope you enjoy anon!

[moonpjs]

ughhh I wanna write so bad but I just have no motivation 😤😤 send help

[moonpjs]

cowgirl | p.js

“the bull i ride is not mechanical”

💿now playing: cowgirl by nicki minaj, lourdiz

❯ summary: Watching his city-girl girlfriend ride a mechanical bull in front of his childhood friends—and a crowd of sleazy locals—Jisung starts to feel both irritated and horny…but mostly horny.

�� pairings: jisung x fem!reader

❯ genre: western!au, smut, boyfriend!jisung

❯ words: 3.6k

❯ tags:18+ minors dni!, jealousy, cat-calling, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), creampies, dom!jisung, dirty talk, overstimulation, swearing, gendered terms, literally just them fucking in cowgirl for 3k words.

Jisung had never brought a girl home for the holidays—especially not a city girl. But here he was, leaning against the doorframe of his childhood bedroom in his parents’ ranch, watching you fuss with the hem of your dress in the mirror. The corners of his mouth twitched upward. He could already hear his friends teasing him. 

“Babe…” he began, sneaking up behind you to wrap a hand around your waist. “It’s just a little dive bar. You don’t have to wear a dress—”

You turned to face him, one perfectly manicured hand resting on your hip, the fabric clinging to your curves in a way that made his mouth go dry. “The dress is cute, Jisung. I’m wearing it.”

You pick up the black heels Jisung had picked out for your birthday—surprisingly pretty for a country boy with calloused hands and mud-splattered boots. Slipping them on, you smile as he takes you in from head to toe with a thick gulp. 

“It’s not that it’s not cute,” he mumbles, shoving a hand through his hair. “It’s just… People don’t usually dress up to drink beer around here.”

You grabbed your coat and gave Jisung a quick peck on the cheek, effectively shutting down any of his further protests. He always does this, gets in his head about the silliest things. 

 “Well, maybe they should,” you quipped, your heels clicking against the wooden floor as you headed for the door. “And besides, I’m not from around here.”

Jisung sighed, reaching for his own jacket while trying to ignore how the sight of you in those heels made his chest tighten. “It’s a small town, Y/N, we don’t get newcomers often. People are gonna stare.”

You paused at the door, glancing over your shoulder with a teasing smile. “Let them.”

Jisung shook his head, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile as he followed you out to his truck. The drive to the bar was quiet but comfortable, the faint hum of country music from the radio filling the car. He stole glances at you as he drove, his chest tightening every time he caught the way the traffic lights reflected off the pretty necklace settled into the cleavage of your chest.

That measly little jewel probably cost the same price as the dive bars around here, if not more. When Jisung finally parked in the gravel lot, you stepped out, your heels clicking sharply against the ground like you were walking into a five-star restaurant instead of a bar with duct-taped barstools and a jukebox that only half-worked. Jisung couldn’t help but laugh softly to himself—his friends were going to have a field day ribbing him for this.

Inside, the low hum of chatter and the twang of a guitar drifted from the jukebox, and the faint smell of beer and peanuts lingered in the air. Jisung spotted his friends immediately—Chenle, Mark, and Jeno huddled around a table in the corner, beers in hand, their laughter loud. 

“There he is!” Chenle’s voice rang out over the chatter, a wide grin spreading across his face as he stood to clap Jisung on the back. His eyes flicked to you, his grin growing impossibly wider. “And this must be the city girl we’re always hearing about.” His eyes flick to your feet. “The one with fancy heels.”

“Very fancy,” Jeno added, his eyes also dropping to your shoes. 

You roll your eyes and bite back a retort. Instead, you allow them to lead you to their table, which was already sticky with spilt beer and the remnants of forgotten nachos. You perched carefully on the edge of your seat, legs crossed, the hem of your dress riding just a little higher than Jisung would’ve liked. He sat beside you, thigh pressed against yours, one hand lazily draped across the back of your chair, the other resting possessively on your knee. 

Mark raises his bottle toward you. “You’re a good sport for coming out tonight. Most people from the city would’ve run a mile the second they saw the mounted deer heads in here.”

“I’m not that brave,” you let out a playful chuckle, “I gotta say, they’re a little creepy.”

Just then, Jeno leaned in, nodding toward the little crowd gathered near the back of the bar. “You’re just in time. Jaemin’s up.”

All eyes turned toward the mechanical bull, where Jaemin—one of Jisung’s childhood friends, apparently known for his total lack of fear and abundance of poor judgment—was psyching himself up to take on the challenge. The operator hit the switch. The bull kicked into motion.

At first, Jaemin held on surprisingly well. Cheers echoed through the bar as he flailed his free arm dramatically, hamming it up like a true showman.

“Look at him go!” Mark hooted.

“He’s gonna break his tailbone again,” Jeno said around a mouthful of fries.

Then the bull jerked hard left—and Jaemin was launched like a rag doll, landing on his back with a loud thump and an even louder groan.

You visibly winced. “Ouch.”

Chenle caught it. Instantly.

“Aww,” he drawled, tilting his head toward you with a mischievous smirk. “That too rough for you, city girl?”

Jisung didn’t miss a beat. “Watch it.”

That only made Chenle grin wider. “What? I’m just saying, we all know you, she probably can’t handle anything that gets a little rough and tough.”

You turned slowly, lips curling into a sweet, deadly smile. “Is that right?”

Jisung shifted beside you, hand tightening just slightly on your thigh. “Babe…”

But you were already standing.

“Someone sign me up,” you said, downing the last sip of your drink and tossing your coat onto the back of your chair. “I’ll show you what a city girl can handle.”

The boys went feral. Chenle practically howled, Jeno pounded the table, and Mark nearly fell off his chair.

Jisung stared at you, his eyes sharp and teeth tight. “You’re not serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious,” you tossed over your shoulder as you made your way toward the pit.

Jisung watched you walk away, his jaw slack. “You guys are so dead if she breaks her ankle.”

You made your way, weaving through the crowd with determination, the clink of your heels on the wood floor cutting through the noise of rowdy laughter and country music. You weren’t doing this for them—not really. This wasn’t about proving something to Chenle or Jeno or any of the wide-eyed boys hollering from the table. This was about you.

You were sick of the looks. The patronising smirks. The constant “city girl” jabs. Like wearing lipstick and spending money on jewellery made you fragile. Soft. Less than.

As you approached the edge of the bull ring, a few older locals, all men, leaned against the rail, beers in hand, smirking like they’d already written you off. 

“Careful up there, sweetheart,” one of them called. “That thing’s mean.” Another one chuckled. “Don’t chip a nail.”

You didn’t even look at them. Didn’t blink. Just climbed the platform with a calm, practised grace, heels disregarded now, your bare feet silent on the rubber mat as you swung one leg over the mechanical animal.

The bull was cool beneath your thighs, the leather seat slightly worn down. You wrapped your fingers around the rope, adjusted your posture, and locked your legs like you’d seen Jaemin do—except you meant business. No theatrics. No flailing limbs or cocky smiles.

The operator raised a brow at you, half amused. “You need me to show you the ropes, Princess?”

“No,” you said. “Start it.”

Behind you, the boys were still hooting—Mark yelling something incoherent, Chenle practically foaming at the mouth—but your eyes stayed fixed forward. Your jaw clenched.

You weren’t here to play cute.

You were here to hold on.

And prove every last one of them wrong.

The bull jolted beneath you with a sudden snap of motion—but you didn’t flinch.

You wrapped your fingers tighter around the rope, feeling its rough texture against your skin. Your legs locking around the bull's body, thighs flexing and back arching to hold on as tight as possible as it bucked and twisted beneath you.

The crowd leaned in, watching as you matched its rhythm with so much control. Every roll of your hips, every sway of your torso—it wasn’t just balance. It was command.

You weren’t holding on for dear life like Jaemin had. You were riding it. Owning it.

And people noticed.

“Holy hell,” someone near the front hissed through clenched teeth. Then a whistle cut through the air, followed by a crude comment that made Jisung’s knuckles go white.

“Damn, whoever she’s riding like that at night is a lucky son of a bitch.”

There were groans, gasps, even a few slow claps as you leaned back just enough to taunt gravity—and won. The hem of your dress rode high along your thighs, pink panties peeking out just enough to tease, your hair whipping around your face. 

Jisung’s jaw locked. He hadn’t taken his eyes off you once. His fingers drumming furiously against the beer bottle in front of him, the other hand clenched in a fist on his thigh. Every lewd comment hit him like a shot to the gut.

Mark leaned in, grinning. “Dude, your girl is killing it.”

Chenle howled beside him, half-laughing, half-stunned. “Woah. I take everything back—she might be the hot—”

“Finish that sentence, Chenle, and I will murder you,” Jiusng deadpans, making his other friends laugh. 

But he wasn’t laughing.

Not even close.

All he could do was watch as you swayed effortlessly on top of that bull, powerful and magnetic, while a sea of half-drunk cowboys who didn’t deserve to look at you muttered under their breath like they were seeing something holy. And they were, except it wasn’t theirs to gawk at. 

His jaw ticked. His eyes stayed locked on you. And his pulse pounded with something that felt a whole lot like possession.

Not because he didn’t want you to ride.

But because they didn’t deserve to watch.

The longer you rode, the tighter Jisung’s grip on his beer bottle hardened. He didn’t care if it smashed and sliced up his skin; nothing would compare to the rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach right now. Every time you shifted, every time your body moved with the bull, your tits bounced, dress rode up, comments flew.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

His chair scraped back across the floor with a harsh screech as he stood, the sound sharp enough to cut through the cheers. His eyes were locked on you—still moving like you belonged up there, and he hated it. He cut across the floor, ignoring the way heads turned as he passed, ignoring the crude commentary still dripping from the lips of too many drunk, wide-eyed men. He had to, if he didn’t, he’s certain he’d be facing an assault charge. 

You caught him approaching from the corner of your eye just as the bull slowed, the operator eyeing Jisung warily. You gripped the rope with one hand and looked down at him, breathless but unbothered. 

“Stop, Y/N,” Jisung growls, his voice carrying over the buzz of the bar. “Get down.”

Your brows lifted, chest still heaving, but before you could answer, a guy at a nearby table—cowboy hat tipped too far back, lips shiny with beer—slurred, “Aw, c’mon, man. Don’t kill the fun!”

“Yeah, man! She’s giving us a show. She’s got that bull beggin’ for mercy,” another slurred voice. Then another: “She’s got me beggin’ for mercy!”

You felt the shift immediately—not in the machine beneath you, but in the room. The energy, the tone. The cheers had morphed into something different. Something gross. Objectifying. Disrespectful.

Your eyes flicked to Jisung.

Standing at the edge of the pit, hands clenched into fists at his sides, jaw tight enough to crack. His eyes burned—worry and anger twisted together behind the fury of protectiveness. You could practically feel it pulsing from him, the way his whole body was saying: Enough.

And that’s when you made your decision.

You swung your leg over the bull and dismounted in one smooth, grounded move. The guys nearby booed. Someone whined, “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart, don’t stop now,” but you ignored them.

Because the only person in the room whose opinion mattered was the one pleading with you. You walked right up to him.

He looked at you, eyes stormy. “You’ve made your point,” he said roughly. “We can leave—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you reached up, tugged his hat off his head, and slid it onto your own, tilting it just so.

His breath hitched.

“I may be a city girl,” you said purposefully loud enough for every invasive man in that dive bar to hear, “but I know the rule…” 

You stepped in closer, chest to chest, your fingers curling around the front of his shirt.

“Wear the hat…” —your voice dropped to a whisper, sultry and teasing as your lips brushed his ear— “…ride the cowboy.”

Jisung’s breath stuttered. A growl curled low in his throat. His hand was on your lower back in a second, guiding you, almost possessively.

“Truck. Now.”

You don’t really remember much after the dive bar—just a blur of quick goodbyes, the creak of Jisung’s truck door, and the hum of tires on gravel. What sticks with you is the way his fingers curled tight around the steering wheel, the hard line of his jaw, and the thick, loaded tension hanging between you as he drove back to his family’s ranch. 

That same tension that followed you up the porch, then slammed you against the living room wall. His mouth on yours—hot, messy, impatient—while old family photos rattled and fell to the floor.

And thank God his parents weren’t home. Because fuck, nothing was going to stop him from making sure you kept your promise.

Ride the cowboy. 

You had no problem putting on a show for every fucker within a five mile radius—so when Jisung hooks your legs around his waist, carries you to his bedroom, and finally gets you naked, exposed and laid out bare for him, he decides he wants a show of his own.

The exclusive one.

The private one. 

The one just for him. 

“Sit on my cock, Y/N,” he says, voice almost pleading but overpowered with a command. 

He’s looking at you, at the mess he’s made you in the last ten minutes with his tongue. You’re completely wrecked—chest falling with shaky breaths, lips swollen, skin flushed and covered in the marks he likes to leave behind. Marks he wishes were permanent. 

Because look, Jisung may be desperate right now, but he’s not selfish with you. Never would be. He always makes sure you cum first—likes to wring you out until you’re trembling—before expecting you to take his cock. 

“Don’t make me beg,” he mutters, leaning in, breath hot against your cheek. “Not tonight. Because I won’t.” 

You pout, teasing, hips shifting to straddle him and make him twitch beneath you as he slides up the bed, resting his back against the headboard. 

“But I like it when you beg.” 

“And I like being the only one who sees your panties,” he bites back, eyes narrowing. “But that didn’t happen tonight, did it?”

Your smirk fades just a little, and he lets out a low growl, hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. 

“So, sit on my cock, baby,” he says lowly, “Ride me. Because that’s the only way this is going to work tonight.”

You bite down on your lip, fingers wrapping around the base of your boyfriend’s cock as you run him through your dripping folds, teasing his head slick and slow. “God, I think I love it even more when you’re bossy.”

You breathe out—barely a whisper, words all shaky and broken because you sink down on him. Your pussy taking every impaling inch of him inside you through a single motion. Jisung’s head falls back, dilated eyes fluttering closed as his pink lips part on a sharp exhale. 

“Move,” he growls instantly, hand gripping a handful of your ass, fingers digging in hard.

It’s different tonight. Jisung usually likes to take his time. Wants to feel every second of the way you fit around him—loves to savour the stretch. To sit in the feeling of knowing he’s the closest he can possibly be to you before chasing his high. But right now, that isn't that. Now there’s no patience, no softness in his tone.

This isn’t needy. It’s commanding. Dominant. And you’re not about to deny him.

You start to move—gentle at first, just to tease, rolling your hips in lazy circles as you adjust to the full size of him. And the way he watches you… it pulls a needy little sound from the back of your throat.

His eyes are glued on you. Hooded and dark. Jaw locked as he drinks in every inch of your body. The bounce of your thighs, the way your tits move with each grind, the slick drag of your cunt around him—it’s all too much and still not enough.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, fingers digging into your skin, guiding your pace as you start to ride him harder. “Look at you…taking me like that.” 

You toss your head back with a moan, letting his grip take over your rhythm, whilst he watches like he’s mesmerised—obsessed. Because he is. 

His hands slide up your waist, thumbs brushing over your hips before he moves one to your stomach, pressing down just enough for you to feel where he is inside you.

“Right there,” he murmurs, breath catching. “You feel that? That’s mine. All fucking mine. All fucking yours.”

You whimper, grinding down harder as his cock hits that spot that always makes your legs shake. Jisung’s eyes darken even more—half-lidded, smug, wrecked.

“God, you’re so hot,” he sighs, one hand coming up to cup your breast while the other stays pressed to your stomach. “So fuckin’ good at this now.”

“Always been good at this,” you say, breathless, trying your best to stay in control—but that one comment. It has him bucking up suddenly, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips.

“Yeah?” he rasps, voice rough as his hands guide you to ride faster, harder. “You think that’s all you, baby? It’s not. I taught you this.”

Your eyes flutter, the words hitting just as deep as his cock. “Jisung—”

He grins proudly. “I made you this good. Trained you to ride my cock just like that. Look at you—fuck—you take me like you were made for me.” His thumb brushes over your clit, teasing and pressing. “My perfect fucking girl.”

You can’t even form a proper response—just moan and clench around him as you chase your high, the pleasure climbing fast and sharp.

“Remember when you couldn’t even take half of me without crying?” he murmurs, grinning through gritted teeth. 

You lean forward, palms on his chest, moving faster, harder, desperate. "Jisung," you gasp, nails digging into his skin. "I'm close—"

The tension in your body reaches a breaking point. The desperate roll of your hips, the way he hits all the right spots—it’s too much. And then, fuck, it hits. The pleasure crashes over you, your pussy trembling, clenching around him like a vice. You collapse forward into his neck, kissing along the curve of his skin as you whine, your orgasm rippling through you, gripping tight around his cock.

But Jisung doesn’t stop. He holds your hips in place, groaning as your walls flutter around him, his cock continuing to slide in and out of your pussy with a punishing force. 

“Don’t fucking stop,” he rasps, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep going, baby. Keep riding your cowboy like you promised.”

You can barely catch your breath, but his words push you forward. You force yourself to keep moving, keep meeting his thrusts even as your body trembles, still sensitive from your orgasm. His cock stays hard inside you, unforgiving, and his hands guide your every motion—pushing you to put on a show for him—for him alone.

“Fuck,” he groans again, his eyes locked on the way your body bounces over him. “Atta girl, Make it good for me.”

Your legs are burning from the effort, but you won’t disappoint him. You want him to feel as good as you do. So you push yourself harder, your hips rolling down onto him with all the control you can muster. The wet, slick sounds of your movements mix with the breathless moans escaping your lips. 

Jisung’s hands slip down lower, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing small, teasing circles that have you gasping. It’s as if he’s trying to kill you with the over-stimulation, and with the way he looks at you, you know—this is his way of punishing you for how mad he was earlier.

“I fucking love the way you ride me, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice rough. “You’re so fucking perfect—Fuck… I’m gonna cum,” he groans. His hands move to your waist, pulling you down harder against him, forcing you to take him deeper.

“Please,” you rasp, breathless. “I want to feel you… all of you.”

His hips thrust upward, meeting yours as he struggles to hold off any longer. With a final, guttural groan, his entire body tenses, and he cums deep inside you, holding you in place. You feel him pulse, his cock twitching as he rides out his orgasm, each throb shooting thick ropes of his cum inside you. His breath is fast, uneven, and his eyes are completely consumed by the sight of you, by the way your body moves with his.

He pulls you close, letting you collapse against him completely as a lazy smile spreads across his face. “Fuck, baby, what have you done to me?” he murmurs, “I think you’re gonna have to ride me every time we fuck from now on.”

Now that doesn’t sound like a bad idea…

[moonpjs]

DROP THAT JAEMIN 5 SEC VIDEO LINK

ask and you shall receive 😌

link

[moonpjs]

a very interesting event happens here with fic writers and smau writers that i'm really curious about. i always see a lot of fic writers here asking their followers to interact with them more and not only when they post fics, and when we see writers who write smaus, they always have millions of interactions (which is pretty fun and cool, thats not a complaint)!! do fanfic writers scare you?? ☹️☹️ i feel so bad when i see friends here asking for their followers to interact with them and there's just a few interactions (and then u see their works and it has a lot of attention) PLEASEEE THEY ARE NOT INTIMIDATING AT ALL IF THSTS THE CASE, THEY ALL FEEL SO HAPPY WHEN THRY GOT ASKS 🥺🥺

[moonpjs]

⭑ soft nights with jisung are just like this... ﹙+18﹚

it was supposed to be a soft night—one of those where you and jisung were supposed to cuddle under the blankets, letting the songs from your ‘special sleeping playlist’ lull you to sleep. especially tonight, when he was so clearly exhausted.

but you couldn’t help it.

he’d been gone all day, leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts. thoughts of how perfectly your body molds into his arms, how his hands feel when they trace over your skin. the way his touch makes you feel so loved, even when it leaves you breathless. the way his long, slender fingers know exactly how to undo you, drawing out pleasure like a melody only he knows how to play.

you couldn’t help but want your boyfriend.

“feels good?” his voice was low, soft like a whisper meant only for you.

you couldn’t find the words, your breath catching in your throat. but you nodded, and that was enough for him.

jisung’s lips curled into a subtle smile, and his fingers never faltered. he watched you closely, drinking in every shaky gasp and whimper, the way you clung to his shirt like he was the only thing keeping you tethered. in many ways, he was. even as he unraveled you, he was your anchor—the one who held you, steady and safe.

his arms surrounded you, one keeping you pressed against him while the other moved beneath the sheets. the slow, deliberate rhythm of his fingers sent waves of warmth crashing through you, and the friction of his palm against your sensitive clit made your body hum with pleasure. every curl of his fingers drew another desperate sound from your lips.

he would be the death of you.

“you’re doing so well, baby,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “i’m so lucky i get to hear these pretty little sounds…” his lips traveled lower, brushing along your neck, savoring the way you shivered beneath him. “my beautiful girl. so desperate for me.”

your fingers curled tighter around his shirt, and when his teeth grazed that sweet spot on your neck, a soft whimper escaped you.

“ji…” you breathed his name like a prayer, nestling impossibly closer, the warmth of his body wrapping around you.

and that was all he needed.

“gonna cum for me?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

you nodded, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to spill. but jisung wasn’t having that. not tonight.

“go on, baby. let go for me,” he coaxed, adding another finger, his gentle encouragement wrapping around you like silk. “make a mess for me—the one only my girl does.”

his lips ghosted over yours, stealing your breath even before the pleasure overwhelmed you. your body trembled, hips stuttering against his hand as the world around you blurred. still, jisung held you through it, his fingers guiding you through every wave, every pulse.

the aftershocks lingered, and yet his touch never wavered—his movements softening as he helped you come down. he tilted your chin up, capturing your gaze before brushing his lips tenderly against yours.

your soft, uneven breaths mingled together, and the last remnants of your moans were swallowed by his kiss. he cradled your face, thumb tracing along your jawline as though you were something fragile and precious. his lips moved with a tenderness that made your heart ache, the way he kissed you speaking louder than any words ever could.

when he pulled away, his eyes stayed on yours—a gaze so full of warmth and adoration it made your chest flutter.

and then, of course, he had to pull his little stunt.

a mischievous smirk tugged at his lips as he slipped his fingers from inside you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. without breaking eye contact, he brought them to his mouth, sucking them clean with a hum of satisfaction.

your eyes widened, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“jisung!” you gasped, swatting weakly at him.

he only giggled, entirely unapologetic. “what? is it my fault you’re fucking delicious?”

you hid your face against his chest, muffled laughter escaping as he hugged you tightly, his own laughter rumbling through his body.

“i love you,” he murmured, kissing the crown of your head.

and with your heart still racing and his arms wrapped around you, you whispered it back.

｜ 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌 𖹭 i can't stop thinking about jisung, i'm going FERAL!! can someone pls cage me 😭😭

[moonpjs]

wifed up! p.js

nsfw content. this is so indulgent i can’t even defend myself lol 9-5 hubby ji i adore him so much

9-5 husband! jisung doesn’t know how to tie his own ties, so every morning it becomes routine for him to wait for you to tie his tie for him before he leaves, his hands resting lightly on your hip, his heart racing a little ‘cause jisung still feels the flustered just by being close to you, his cheeks dusted with a little pink at the way you’re biting your lip trying to get his tie knot perfect, and pink fades into a red when your fingers wrap around his tie, tugging him down for a kiss before he leaves for work. one kiss, two kisses, three and he’s about to be running late!

9-5 husband! jisung whose coworkers tease him for the way his lunch has fruits cut into hearts and a pink sticky note with an ‘ily!’ stuck to the container every day, making him blush because he feels like he’s falling in love all over again, feeling so shy, like… how did he land such a cute wife ? (jisung never shares his lunch. like ever. that’s for him, from his wife!) he keeps all of your little notes, folding them into origami stars in a jar at his desk. he literally leaves meetings, ‘bathroom’ excuse just to answer texts from you, missing him as much as he misses you.

9-5 husband! jisung’s habit of playing with his wedding band whenever he’s thinking, in meetings, at his desk, any time his hands are free, he’s twisting and fidgeting with the golden ring on his left hand without a second thought about it, unconsciously comforting to him. his friends laughing at him a little because jisung’s absent minded tendencies become wife daydreams, playing with his wedding ring for a hot second before he’s blinking back into the conversation, flustered because they’re teasing him about how obviously in loveee he is,,, like, the moment someone talks to him too long he’s pulling the ‘i’m married,’ ring and all. and they don’t even have to be flirting with him.

9-5 husband! jisung who’s all over you, his wifey, the moment he comes home, wandering into the kitchen immediately, back hugs and his chin resting on your shoulder, wanting kisses so badly, he’s inseparably clingy. who can blame him, he was at work all day. without you! the kind of kisses where he’s leaning down ‘cause he’s too tall, your arms wrapped around his neck and time slows down, he’s so down bad there’s no comparison. his fingers loosening his tie and pushing up his sleeves, wanting to hear everything about your day as jisung gives you starry eyes, barely paying attention to the vegetables he’s washing. or at least, supposed to be washing, if his entire attention wasn’t already taken.

9-5 husband! jisung’s a perv, caught with your panties and his hand in his sweats… no wonder he always offers to do the laundry. so so so in love when you’re equally as clingy to him,, but he gets boners so quick and often ‘cause everything you do turns him on, he’s so fucked whenever you’re wearing nothing but his shirts… the only difference is that now he’s your husband, can have you whenever,, kitchen counters and couches, the wall of the hallway, laundry room and in the shower !

9-5 husband! jisung who ignores work calls and tosses his phone somewhere else ‘cause he’s busy— on his knees, so pussy drunk he can’t think, face buried between your thighs, a couple of buttons undone on his dress shirt and slacks feeling too tight,, hand holding is so important to him, his fingers laced through yours and god are his hands big in comparison,, pretty lips smeared with your arousal and if it wasn’t for you begging for his cock, he’d probably eat you out for hours, anything for his wifey.

husband! jisung with his soft, deep voice always praising you, even if he does all the work, just so obsessed he worships you so much, so insanely lovesick, can’t have sex unless he’s pressed up to every inch of you, big hand on the little bulge he makes in your tummy, has to feel how deep he is! (his size kink). aftercare is all cuddles, because he’d have to pull out otherwise, it’s kind of romantic to him to wanna be inside you, when you’re all full of his cum. wants you to mark him up, make it so obvious he’s taken, lying on top of him and kissing hickeys all over his skin, his collarbones, his neck, his chest, everywhere. sleepy mumbling about how badly he misses you when he’s at work, working only so he can make sure you’re taken care of, have everything you want and more. playing with the ring on your hand now that you’re here instead of his. can’t sleep until you fall asleep first, lulled by his quiet love songs he only sings for you.

husband! jisung gifts a star for you every anniversary, knowing one day there will be so many stars scattered across the universe, you’ll always be able to see one when you look at the night sky together. across so many galaxies, each and every one will have a star he’s given you because he loves you to the ends of the infinite universe.

i want him so bad. please

[moonpjs]

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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[moonpjs]

[07:24 PM] 18+ minors dni

pairing. mark x fem!reader | cw. smut, face-sitting

Imagine Mark coming back to your place after a long day of work, feeling tired but horny at the same time. Simply asking you to ride his face.

Imagine him practically begging for you to go along with it after hearing you were tired too. But insisting that this is all he wants and he doesn’t even need anything in return.

Imagine him lying on his back, admiring you as you swing your leg over him, now hovering above his face. Mark immediately grabbing your hips, encouraging you to sink down onto him.

Imagine him groaning into your pussy, knowing that you’re using his face to get off. With your clit bumping his nose at every move of your hips, moans slip out of you as his tongue moved perfectly in all the right places.

Imagine him pulling you closer and closer, trying to get as much of you as possible. Hearing a muffled “mhm” every time you ask if he’s okay, worried you’re gonna suffocate him.

Imagine gripping his hair when you start to feel close, moans growing louder. You watch his eyes flutter close, as he enjoys every moment, getting increasingly turned on at each second. Especially when you cry out “I’m close!”, arching your back from the pleasure.

Imagine Mark licking up all your juices after you come, savouring the taste and keeping you in place. Unaware of how overstimulated you’re becoming.

“Please stop,” you pant “It’s too much”, finally catching his attention. He releases the grip on your hips, letting you go.

“Sorry” he chuckles as you move off of him and sit beside him, taking in the sight before you.

The view of his face covered in your juices had you weak all over again, now craving more. Though you remember what Mark said, he didn't need anything else. But it wouldn't hurt to return the favour, right?

a/n: Hi people! Just wanted to say that I am happy to take requests, so feel free to drop an ask. I will probably put together some rules for what you can request and what to avoid. But for now, just be mindful! Also thank you for the love on my first post, I appreciate it <3

[moonpjs]

letting him fuck you without a condom for the first time.

it was a very welcome surprise to him, honestly. "raw? that's a hell of a lot of trust, huh, baby?" he murmured, his large hands pushing your thighs further apart. he wraps a hand around his cock, trailing the tip up and down your soaked slit. initially, he did it for the sole purpose of riling you up before he gave you what you want, but the feeling of your essence coating his sensitive tip ended up in his own undoing too.

as soon as he began to slowly push himself into you, he visibly lost all composure. his lips parted, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes glued to where you both met. "fuck, baby." he groaned deeply, adjusting to the sensation of being bare inside you for the first time. your warmth and wetness completely enveloped him, coating his cock with a glistening layer of arousal as he began to rock his hips.

"you gonna freak if i knock you up?" he asked, the words naturally falling from his lips. clearly, both of you were too far gone to think straight. his words took a while to register due to how good of a job he was doing, but once they did he could feel the effect that question had on you. he pushed deeper inside of you with each slow thrust. "you're just so fuckin' pretty like this, i might end up putting a baby in you." he continued on, his voice dropping an octave. he lowered himself to ghost a light kiss to your lips. his smirk grew as a new wave of arousal coated him.

"pretty baby's making a mess on my sheets," he chuckled, his own restraint being tested by this position. "you like that idea? want me to fill you up, honey?" he muttered as he fluttered soft kisses around your face. he noticed how your body responded to the way he was talking. he always did. he smirked at the realisation that he'd stumbled across something new to drive you up the wall. he lowered himself to his elbows, his arms on either side of your head as he held you. he grinned as you nodded, his face now only inches from yours. "look at me, baby." he whispered, noticing how out of it you were. you were getting so whiny. he gently tapped your cheek. as soon as your eyes met his, he began thrusting deeper and a little harder. you were making a mess all over the both of you at this point. you were both getting louder, breathier, more desperate. his hand gripped your thigh possessively as his other one rested near your head. "i love you," i murmured, his eyes locked on yours. "i love you so much," he continued, the intensity of the connection and situation being almost overwhelming.

his thrusts became more deliberate, repeatedly hitting that spot inside of you. he watched the way you reacted to everything he was doing and saying, breathy groans spilling from his lips. "i'm gonna cum inside you, baby." he spoke, "gonna knock you up. wanna make me a daddy?" he began rambling as he watched you gaze down at the sight of him disappearing inside of you.

"cum with me?" he asked breathlessly. "please, cum for me baby," he continued, almost begging. "you can do it," he encouraged, his fingers finding that bud between your thighs. it wasn't long until you both came, riding out the intense waves of pleasure. he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, praising you for doing so well. that definitely would not be the last time you did this.

sungchan, eunseok, anton, hanbin, jiwoong, gyuvin, gunwook, jaehyun, johnny, yuta, jeno, jaemin, mark, jisung, haechan, kun, yangyang, soobin, taehyun, jake, sunghoon, jay, heeseung, mingyu, wonwoo, scoups, vernon, juyeon, sangyeon, sunwoo, hyunjae, eric and anyone else you wish to add in

[moonpjs]

i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to fuck you | l.mk

“you are the girl that i’ve been dreaming of”

📀now playing: i’m not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you by black kids

❯ summary: Asking your best friend to take your virginity because you have a crush on someone else and want experience is totally normal, right? Mark doesn’t think so. If he’s taking your virginity, it’s not for practice—it’s for him. He’s nobody’s wingman—especially not when it comes to you.

❯ pairings: mark x virgin fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, friends to lovers

❯ words: 5.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, corruption kink, loss of virginity, nipple play, fingering, hand jobs, praising, body worship, protected sex, back scratching, brief possessiveness, pet names, reader uses she/her pronouns, swearing, love confessions, just fluffy smut because it’s what i do best lol.

Mark swears he’s a good listener. Considering he’s been friends with Zhong Chenle for years, the world’s most dedicated yapper, he doesn’t really have a choice. He has to be a good listener. But Mark almost does a double take when he hears the words ‘my virginity’ and ‘you’ come out of your mouth.

His best friend. With the biggest, prettiest, most innocent eyes and sweet little mouth that could barely stammer through conversations about flirting—asking him about sex. No. Not just asking. Wanting him.

After nearly choking on his own spit, Mark tries to regain his composure—but fails miserably. Especially when your cheeks flush, and you start chewing on your bottom lip. It’s a crime. No, worse. It’s sin in human form. You’re sin in human form. Looking this cute, blushing like a maniac, like you didn’t just drop that question on him.

“You want me to take your virginity, Y/N?”

You cringe the second he repeats your question back to you. It sounded a lot better in your head—practical, reasonable, totally fine. But now, with his brows furrowed and that ‘are you insane?’ look on his face, you’re starting to think maybe you are insane.

But when you came up with this plan last night, none of that crossed your mind. All you knew was that Mark never says no to you. Ever. Not when you asked him to be your first kiss in middle school. Not when you made him take you to your first frat party. Not even when you guilt-tripped him into helping with your dissertation.

"Look, forget it—" you say, pushing to your feet, desperate to escape your shared living room that suddenly feels way too hot under Mark’s stare. "I totally crossed a line by asking. I’m sure I can find someone on Tinder—"

"No."

You blink. "No?"

Mark wants to curse himself for the hasty reply, but who could blame him? There’s just no way he’s letting you swipe right on some douche bag looking for a quick fuck—some guy who’ll take you to a lousy bar, probably make you pay for your own drinks, and then expect to take your virginity like it’s nothing.

It’s ridiculous. It’s not happening.

Not when you just handed him the opportunity on a silver platter.

“What I meant to say was,” Mark rubs the back of his neck, “Don’t you want to lose your virginity to someone you trust—someone you love?”

You nod without hesitation. “That’s why I asked you. There’s not a single man I trust more than you. And I love you—platonically, yeah, but it’s still love.”

Platonic. 

If Mark could rip that word out of the dictionary, set it on fire, and launch the ashes into space, he would. Anything to stop you from thinking whatever he feels towards you is platonic. Was it platonic when he kissed you when you were eleven? No. Was it platonic when he drove ten miles just for your favourite snack on your birthday? No. Was it platonic when he worked on your final thesis at the same time as his own? No.

And if he’s going to be the first one to have you, it sure as hell won’t be platonic. That’s for damn sure.

His eyes squeeze shut as he sits forward, clammy hands rubbing up and down his jeans. "Okay, so you want me, your best friend, to take your virginity? Why?"

You chew your lip. This was the part of the scenario that kept you up at night—explaining why. How the hell are you supposed to tell someone you want them to take your virginity just so you can be ready for someone else? There’s no handbook, no online forum, for this kind of thing.

So you settle for:

“It’s stupid. A dumb reason. Don’t even worry about it. Will you do it or not?”

Mark gives you a knowing look, exactly like you knew he would. He’s one of those perspective fuckers, especially when it comes to you. Normally, you love it. Right now, not so much.

“Y/N,” he draws out your name, “What happened to me being one of the most trusted men you know? Tell me.” 

You suck in a breath, trying to steady yourself. After all, it’s just Mark. Sweet, kind, nonjudgmental, Mark. 

“I have a crush on my co-worker, Xiaojun,” you blurt out. Mark just blinks, completely still, like he’s trying to process. You, on the other hand, keep rambling. “And there’s rumours that he’s amazing in bed, and he asked me out for drinks this Friday, and I just feel really…unprepared.”

Mark feels his blood pressure spike—because fuck your co-worker, fuck those rumours and fuck that little date your planning to gone on this Friday night. Look, he’s not a prude or anything. Mark knows people fuck on a first date—but not you. At least not you with some asshole making you think you need to be prepared for him.

"If that asshole makes you feel less than just because you're a virgin, Y/N, he’s not worth your time."

You narrow your eyes. "I don’t think your opinion holds any weight here, considering you don’t think any guy is worth my time."

Mark relaxes slightly and smiles at that—because it’s true. No man deserves to talk to you, touch you, kiss you—no one but him.

“Besides,” you perk up again, trying to sound more confident. “This isn’t about what Xiaojun or any other guy thinks. This is about me… being comfortable having sex with someone that isn’t myself.” You chew your lower lip. “I want to be comfortable having sex with other men.”

Mark almost growls, a caveman-like urge pounding in his chest at the thought of you wanting to be comfortable with other men. He’s changed his mind. He’d take the word platonic any day over hearing other men leave your mouth.

“Let me get this straight—you want me to teach you how to fuck, to please other men?”

Your cheeks flush, not just because the idea sounds so ridiculous when he puts it like that, but because it’s the first time you've ever heard him talk like that. Mark is always so careful, so delicate with you, keeping his foul mouth and sex life locked away. But hearing the phrase "how to fuck" leave his mouth in that deep, husky drawl,  sends a pulse right through you, straight to your clit.

You chew your lip again, hesitating. “I don’t know… I just wanna be good... at it… at sex.”

Mark’s head tilts back as he stares at the ceiling, a string of mumbled curses slipping out before his Adam’s apple starts bobbing against his throat. He pauses to think—and so do you. You can’t figure out why he’s interrogating you like this. The proposition is a lot, yes, but if you’d crossed a line and made him uncomfortable, he could’ve just said so, you wouldn’t have taken it personally. There’s no reason for him to poke and prod like this.

Just as you're about to squash this whole thing, Mark speaks again. He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, his brows furrowed like he's still deep in thought, but his eyes, dark and blown wide, pin you in place.

"I'll teach you, Y/N," he says, standing up slowly. "I'll fuck you if that's what you want and if that’s what you're asking me for," he continues, moving closer until he's right in your personal space. "But I won't fuck you just to get you ready for someone else."

"Mark—"

"No, Y/N, I’m talking," he cuts you off, his long, tantalizing finger tracing from your cheek down to your neck before he whispers, "I don’t mind teaching you how to be good at sex with me, angel, but I’m sure as fuck not teaching you how to be good at it for someone else. If I finally get to fuck you, I’m gonna teach you how to be good for me."

Your mouth parts in a soft gasp, just from his words and that innocent touch alone. Mark’s eyes track the movement, and his irises darken with something you can’t quite name—want, lust, need... you don’t know. All you know is that it’s fucking hot, and it almost makes you miss what he just said.

"Finally?" you breathe out.

The corner of Mark's mouth twitches into a smile, and a low, silky laugh slips from him. "Don't pretend like you don't know I want you." His finger slides to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. ��You’re too fucking smart to be playing dumb with me, Y/N. You know you could have me on my knees if you just asked. I’d do anything if you just asked.”

You always knew you had Mark wrapped around your little finger, but you never realized it was because he wanted you the same way you’ve wanted him. Yes, you’d only asked him to help you with this plan because you know he struggles to say no to you; but a small, twisted part of you wanted Mark to be the one to take your virginity. Because he’s him—hot, lean, experienced, sweet, loyal Mark. Your Mark. 

It’s all too much. His breath is too warm on your skin, his words too heated, his proximity too hot—he’s too hot. You whimper, and you watch as his pupils soften in response.

“Y/N,” he says softly now. “I need you to use your words to tell me what you want. If you don’t want to do this anymore—because, to me, it’s more than just practice—that’s fine. But if we do... this, us, it becomes real.”

Your mind goes fuzzy. Words? He thinks you have words after just confessing that this—that you—are something he wants? Almost like he senses your hesitation, he nuzzles deeper into your neck, his lips feather-light, dusting over your skin in a way that sets your nerves alight. It’s erotic, it’s intimate, it’s so damn sexy. 

“I’m serious, Y/N.” His voice is soft, breath scorching against your skin, thumb grazing over your collarbone like he’s memorizing you. “I’ve imagined you—craved you—for years. If you want me to take your virginity, I’ll do it. Happily. But I’ll be your first and your last—not Xiaojun.”

The mention of your coworker feels irrelevant now—a distant, meaningless fantasy compared to this. The stupid office daydream you’d clung to seems laughable because the man you thought only saw you as a friend is standing right here, offering himself to you. Completely. Utterly asking to be yours. And who are you to deny him?

“I want this—”

Mark doesn’t waste another second, doesn’t let you finish your sentence—because he’s wasted too much damn time already. Too much time waiting, hoping, aching to hear you want him. Not just need him for something, but actually want him. Crave him. Desire him.

He has to kiss you. Now.

It starts slow, soft, and sweet. Both your mouths take their time exploring one another as his hand tenderly cups your face, holding you to him. But in no time at all, the heat builds, kisses stretching longer, deeper, until it’s not enough for him. Not nearly enough for you. A hum of approval slips from you the moment his tongue grazes yours, and he takes it as permission, sweeping in and taking control.

“I have fucking dreamed about this,” he pants against your lips. “About kissing you. About touching you. Tell me to stop if it’s too much, Y/N.”

Stop? He’s out of his damn mind if he thinks you want to stop. You shake your head against his lips, legs winding around his, and he takes the hint without hesitation. His hands find your waist, lifting you with ease until you’re resting around his hips. His eyes are fully dark now, black, and locked onto you. They never waver as he carries you both to his bedroom.

Mark lays you down carefully, like you’d break if he was any rougher, but his gaze tells a different story—intense, burning, desperate. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, and he just stares, eyes roaming every inch of you like he’s savouring the moment before he ruins you completely. 

You’ve never been this intimate with a man before. Sure, you’re no stranger to your own fingers, to vibrators, and okay—maybe you don’t mind the occasional steamy make out session at a party. But this? In his room, under his stare, is different. You’re not even naked yet, and somehow, you already feel so bare, so exposed. 

“I want to take my time with you, Y/N,” Mark murmurs, as he climbs onto the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He gently pushes you back so you’re lying flat, his body hovering over yours. “I want to savour every inch of this pretty little body of yours... and you’re going to let me, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you pant, nodding at the same time, and Mark smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips.

His hands slide up your legs, gliding over the fabric of your sweatpants, until they reach the hem. His eyes search yours, silently asking for confirmation, and you nod, breath catching in your throat. He tugs at your pants, so slow, so deliberate, and when they finally slip off, he lets out a low, groggy "fuck" at the sight of the pink lacy panties you’d chosen for this—for him.

You suddenly feel self-conscious, heat creeping up your chest.

"Knew I'd say yes, huh?" Mark coos, his hand tracing the band of your panties as he looks over your body, studying it because it's the first time he’s seeing you like this. Displayed for him.

You blush, squirming beneath him, overwhelmed by how new, how unfamiliar this all feels. Mark senses your discomfort and smiles softly.

"Don’t go shy on me now, pretty girl," he murmurs, "I’m losing my shit knowing you wore this with me."

His hands graze over your hip bone, fingers brushing gently, soothing as they explore the small hint of flesh you're revealing to him. The softness of his touch, of him, makes you ease up just a little.

“I wore the matching bra too,” you say on an exhaled breath.

Mark groans, his eyes closing as he takes in a slow, intentional breath of his own, nostrils flaring slightly. “Did you? Can I see, baby? Please?”

You nod, and those exploring hands of his glide up your stomach, fingers brush over your skin as he tugs the tight fabric of your tank top over your head. When it falls away, you're left in nothing but the matching set. The pink bralette, almost see-through, giving him a clear, vivid view of your pebbled nipples.

"So fucking beautiful, Y/N," he says, his voice strained, almost painfully. "Can you take it off for me?"

You smile, teasing, as your hands find the clasp at the back. "After I went through all this effort to put it on for you?"

He shakes his head with a small scoff of laughter, the sound easing your nerves a bit. That familiar banter, the playful back-and-forth, reminds you why you asked him—why you wanted him to do this in the first place. You trust him. 

“Is this the part where I learn that you’re a fucking brat?” he mutters, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“I can be, if you want me to be.”

Something flashes in his eyes—dark, predatory—and he leans in closer, his tone dropping an octave. “Take the bra off. Now, Y/N.”

And you do, the flimsy fabric slipping from your breasts and meeting the same fate as your sweats and tank. You feel so exposed, which is ridiculous considering how little modesty the bralette was offering in the first place. Still, your hands instinctively cross over your chest. 

"Hey, don’t," Mark murmurs, his hand gently reaching up to move yours, his thumb rubbing soft, soothing circles around your wrist to reassure you. "You don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me, Y/N. If you want to stop—”

"No," you interrupt. "I mean, please... I want this... I want you, Mark. I’m just nervous."

His eyes soften at your words, and he licks his lips. "Can I touch you?"

You nod, and his hands steadily, gently travel up and down your stomach, hovering around your sternum before they rest beneath your breasts. You suck in a breath as his touch lingers. "Can I touch you here?" he asks, and again, you nod. 

Mark’s hands gently cup your chest, the softness and weight of your tits filling his palms. The pad of his thumb teases over one of your nipples (pretty peaked nipples that are practically begging for his mouth) in a steady rhythm that has you arching into him. He continues, flicking over the sensitive bud until he elicits the reaction he wants: quiet, breathless whimpers and tiny darling moans from your mouth.

“You’re so damn perfect, Y/N,” he mutters, his eyes glued to your body as he tests his touches, watching in awe as your eyes flutter, roll, or widen. “So damn perfect for me.”

You moan, and his head dips to the valley between your breasts, his tongue flicking out to trail a slow, heated path up your skin. His mouth, warm and wet, captures your pebbled nipple, sucking and licking with a hunger that makes your body shiver. It’s then that you remember why Mark is perfect for this—he’s experienced. 

“Pretty fucking tits,” he groans, “I’ll fuck these one day. Promise.”

He focuses entirely on your nipples, squeezing your breasts, and you swear you're already on the verge of coming undone for him, writhing beneath him. Terrified it’ll end too soon, your hands cup his cheeks, pulling him away from your chest to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. 

His chest hovers over you, so close to you, but still hidden beneath layers of fabric. His jeans, too tight, too impeding. You want to feel him—skin to skin. It’s not fair. You’re lying here in nothing but your underwear, exposed and vulnerable, while he’s still fully dressed—his clothes a frustrating barrier that keeps you from feeling him the way you need to. You can’t stand it anymore.

Your fingers dig into his shirt, tugging at the fabric, desperate to rip it off and close the damn distance. "Mark," you breathe. "Take it off. Please."

“You want it off, huh?” He teases. 

You’re beyond patience now, body aching for him. “Yes. I do.”

Mark’s eyes darken at the desperation in your voice. He sits up slightly, pulling away from you just enough to shed his shirt, the fabric tugging over his head and revealing the toned muscles of his chest. You can’t help but watch, your eyes glued to the way his hands move, but he’s taking his damn time. Frustrated, you reach for his belt, but he stops you, his hand brushing yours as he undoes it himself. The sound of it unbuckling makes your breath hitch. 

Finally, his jeans slip down, revealing the taut curve of his thighs before he kicks them aside, leaving him in nothing but his black boxers. His bulge is prominent, straining against the tight material, and you swear you can’t take it any longer.

But before you can pounce, before you can touch him and feel him the way you want to, he’s hovering back over you, his body pinning you down, forcing your back flat against the bed.

“So eager, pretty girl,” he muses with a teasing smirk. “But you asked me to teach you, didn’t you? I’m in charge.”

He’s so controlled, so assertive, it sends a flood of need coursing through your body. His hands are back on you, gliding over your now fully exposed body. Well, not entirely exposed—his fingers toy at the edge of your panties, tracing, testing, taunting, as if waiting for your permission. And you’d give him it immediately, only he wants to ride this out, prolong it. 

His fingers move to dip just beneath the fabric, but then he stops.

“I know you said you wanted to be good at this, Y/N,” he hums. “But I want to be good for you. Tell me what you like. Tell me how to touch this pretty pussy.”

Heat floods your cheeks and pools between your legs. From the way Mark smiles, and the fact that he’s cupping you through your underwear, you know he can feel it too.

“I-um—”

“I already told you to stop being shy with me, Y/N,” he says. “Don’t think I overlooked that comment about you getting yourself off. You wanna learn, so do I. Let me be a good boy for you.”

Your eyes lock onto his, and you can see the seriousness. He wants to know what makes you tick, what works for you, what gets you off—wants to be the one to do it. His breath hitches as he studies you, chest contracting with focus. 

“I-I start with my clit,” you instruct, and his fingers follow suit, finally dipping under the fabric he’s been teasing for the last ten minutes right to the spot. You want to feel embarrassed telling him all the dirty ways you play with yourself, but you can’t. He won’t let you feel that way, because, like you said, he’s him—sweet, loyal Mark.

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re dripping for me,” he groans, voice thick with need. “Aching for me, aren’t you, baby?” You nod pathetically. “Then tell me, what do you do to your clit? Teach me.”

“I like small circles,” you whisper, your breath shaky.

“Like this?” he asks, his voice low as he carefully follows your instructions. It’s almost too careful. Too slow. You need more—so much more.

“Faster, Mark.”

His fingers speed up, the circles on your clit growing faster, the pressure he applies intensifies with each stroke. You moan, squirming beneath him, your hips shifting in desperate need for more—more of him.

"Can I try a finger, baby?" he asks, and you nod, wanting everything he has to give right now.

Mark shifts his gaze from your face down to where his hands are stuffed inside your panties. He watches as he trails his index finger up and down your slit slowly until it’s circling around your entrance before finally easing it inside. You gasp, feeling the initial stretch, and his eyes lock back onto yours, waiting for the sting to fade and the lust to take its place again. Once it does, he begins to move, his finger sliding in and out, in and out, faster and faster until your breaths come heavier. 

“Mark,” you gasp on a moan, a thrill coursing through you as he picks up the pace. 

Mark adds his thumb back to your clit, the combination of his fingers easing in and out of your drenched pussy and the attention to your sensitive nerves send waves of pleasure crashing over you. Because cumming has never felt like this—so close, so quick, so desperately needed. Mark must sense your closeness too because his lips quirk, devilish and taunting.

“You gonna cum on my fingers, pretty girl?” he asks, but it’s clearly not a question. The cocky bastard knows you are. “Or should I say finger? Think you could handle two?”

Your mind is incoherent from the pleasure, the foreign stretch of his fingers. Any thoughts you have dissolve into a haze of need, only capable of a frantic nodding at him because you want more, need more, need to cum. He eases in his middle finger, both digits slowing down as you adjust to him. Then, the world around you blurs; all that matters is the rhythm of his fingers and the growing knot forming in your stomach as his pace picks up. Each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, and you can feel the waves of your orgasms building, until it finally, deliciously, crashes over you. 

Your vision blurs, and sounds you didn't even know you could make slip from your lips. All you can hear is Mark's incoherent, muffled praise—telling you how pretty, how perfect, how good you are for him.

When you come down from your high, he’s watching you intently, his hand running through your hair as you refocus back on him with hazy eyes. You’ve never experienced an orgasm like that, and as you notice the strained bulge in his pants, a surge of eagerness wells up in you. You want to return the favour, to please him, to learn how to be good the way you asked him to twach you.

You reach for his boxers, fingers trembling as you strip them off, revealing the thick hard length of him. Your breath catches at the sight of his cock, angry and needy and desperate. Mark looks down at you with his own haze-induced eyes. 

“Please, Y/N.”

The heat radiating from him ignites a fire within you. You take a moment to admire the way he looks at you—hungry, eager. With a newfound confidence, you lean closer, your lips brushing against his skin, ready to give him the pleasure he’s so generously given you. You press soft, delicate kisses to his abdomen, watching as his stomach flexes in response.

You know you probably should suck his cock right now; that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Almost as if he can sense your hesitation, Mark’s fingers clamp around your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to, not yet, not ever if you don’t want to,” he says softly. “But you can touch it. Touch me, Y/N, please.”

That feels more like your speed, so you wrap a firm hand around his cock, giving it a slow, steady long tug. Mark's head rolls back from where he sits on the bed. Your hands tremble with nerves, this is all so new to you, and you desperately want to please him. But before you can overthink it, Mark’s words soothe your insecurities.

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “Just like that... so fucking good, Y/N.”

He's like a fucking mind reader, because that one comment, that small ounce of reassurance, has you stroking him faster. Your hand moves in a messy rhythm, feeling the weight of his cock in your palm. 

As you continue to stroke him, you start to experiment with different techniques, trying out gentler touches and firmer grips. Mark's reactions are your guide, and you watch as his face contorts in pleasure, his eyes screwing shut as he lets out low groans. He sounds so sexy, you like it, you want more of him like this. 

You feel a sense of power, knowing that you're the one bringing him to the edge. Your strokes become more insistent, your hand moving faster as Mark's breathing quickens. You can feel his cock throbbing in your hand, the veins standing out as he gets closer.  Mark's body tenses, his muscles straining and that’s when suddenly, his eyes snap open. 

“You gotta stop, Y/N,” he growls, his voice low and husky as he pulls your hands off his length. For a moment, you almost feel scorned, but then he adds, “I want to last until I’m at least inside of you...”

You both laugh, Mark's eyes crinkling at the corners as he chuckles, and you feel a flutter in your chest. He gently lies you back on his bed, grabbing a pillow and placing it underneath your hips. As he fumbles with his nightstand, he rips open a condom and slides it along his cock. You can't help but watch, mesmerized by the sight. It’s oddly sexy. Your body responds instinctively, your hips arching upwards as if seeking him out. 

As Mark positions himself between your legs, his head dips down to kiss you. It’s sweet, like the first time, and you think you could get used to them—you want to get used to them. The feeling of his lips on yours, on your cheek, the top of your head. 

When your lips finally break apart, he holds eye contact with you, aligning himself with your pussy. He teases you, brushing against your folds, occasionally grazing your clit—his eyes watching your reaction, a smirk on his lips. Sensitive, he notes. And he has to note because there will be a time for more, a time where he’ll make you work for it. But today isn’t that day. Today is about you and him—together.

“Tap my arm if it’s too much. If you want to stop—”

“Mark,” it’s your turn to be stern now. “Please, just fuck me.”

He smirks, liking this side of you—the impatience, the newfound dirty mouth of yours. Something else to note for next time, he thinks.

Rubbing himself up and down your slit for a final time, Mark presses the head of his cock to your entrance, hips shifting forward to slowly push into you. His nostrils flare, and his teeth clench because he has to be careful, he has to be in control. He cannot—he will not—hurt you any more than he has to. 

So, slowly. Torturously slowly. Mark eases into you, inch by tantalizing inch, until his tip coaxes past the small ring of resistance. You’re so tight—so impossibly tight—that he almost regrets letting you jerk him off before hand,  because he’s already teetering on the edge of cumming from merely the first few inches. He’s waited far too long for this moment; the last thing he wants is to blow his load before he’s even begun to move.

He shifts his focus from his own pleasure to your face, keenly observing for any signs of discomfort. When he catches the slight scrunch of your nose, he leans down to kiss you, wanting to distract you from the sting of you stretching around his cock for the first time.

“You’re doing so good, pretty girl. You were made for me.”

He feels your body relax into the mattress at the praise and your hands wrap around his back, pulling him closer. It’s a silent invitation, a clear signal that you’re okay with more—that you need more.

His hips finally press flush against yours, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him, all of him. Your fingers dust up and down his spine as you get used to this, how full you feel, how complete. 

“Move, Mark,” you whisper barely above a whisper. “Please.”

And he does. He rolls his hips, pulling out of you completely before sinking back in, slow and sensual. You moan—right into his ear, because he’s buried in your neck—and he nearly loses the last thread of control he’s holding onto. Mark quickens his pace, keeping his body flush against yours—like he needs to be as close as possible. Needs to consume you the same way you’ve consumed him for years.

“Yes, Mark,” you cry, your nails raking down his back, scratching, digging, marking into his skin.

“Fuck, Y/N. You feel so good. You have no idea how fucking perfect you are.”

He reaches for your hand, prying it from his back to lace his fingers with yours, pinning them to the mattress. It’s gentle, it’s sweet—it’s so Mark. He fucks you slowly, his hands holding yours as he kisses you. Intimate, tender, and so fucking hot.

You tighten around him, and the squeeze makes something flicker in Mark’s eyes—something determined, something feral.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper between ragged breaths.

“Fuck, yes—please,” he groans. “Cum around my cock, pretty girl. I need it. I want it.”

Hearing him just as desperate, just as needy as you, sends you over the edge. Your lip trembles, your lashes flutter, and then—your second orgasm takes over you, ripping a scream of his name from your throat.

It’s the prettiest thing Mark’s ever seen, ever heard—the best thing he’s ever felt. And he swears this moment will be etched into his memory until the day he dies. He holds you close to his chest as you ride your high, feeling every desperate breath you take, swallowing every moan with wet open mouth kisses. And when he senses you’ve finally come down, he chases his own orgasm—greedy for it, for you.

He becomes ravenous for his own release, his hips pistoning faster, harder, as he drives deeper into you. His breaths come in ragged gasps, his chest contracting as his fingertips anchor your hips in place. With every thrust his cock throbs with an almost unbearable intensity until he lets out a low, guttural groan, his body shuddering with pleasure. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he whispers your name, over and over again, like a mantra and he spills inside of the condom. 

The room fills with a silence, punctuated only by the sound of your mingled breaths as he comes down. Your hands are still entwined, hearts still racing, and you both can’t do anything but look at each other. Eventually, Mark leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips before pulling away. He eases out of you, removes the condom, and tosses it into the nearby trash can.

You watch him as he moves, and when he turns back to you—his gaze a mix of awe and satisfaction—you can’t help but smile.

“You know when I said I loved you platonically?” you ask, and his brows knit together. He looks like he’s about to have a full-blown panic attack, so you quickly put him at ease. “I lied. I actually just love you.”

Relief washes over his face before it melts into a smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Good. Because, I love you too. Always have.”

[moonpjs]

MASTERLIST minors dni!

♤, smut | ♢, fluff | ♧, angst ☆, under 1k | ☾, over 1k

MARK LEE

♤☆ 07:24 PM

LEE DONGHYUCK

♤☆ pussy drunk

♤☆ giving him head

NA JAEMIN

♤☆ crave

PARK JISUNG

♤☆ 01:49 AM

♤☆ 08:31 AM

[moonpjs]

THIS SHOT MANNN UGGGHHH I NEED HIM BADDDD THIS WAS SO GOOD OMG

[moonpjs]

CRAVE — na jaemin

a/n: I saw a 5 sec video on twt and I needed a longer version so I had to write about it with one of the dreamies. And I didn’t forget about you @thefirst-yet-thelast so here you go :3

18+ mdni

“F-fuck, baby.” Jaemin’s delicate hands grip the plush of your hips as you straddle his lap, guiding you slowly onto his cock, unsteady breaths slipping through his parted lips as the fabric of your pink laced panties rub against him. Becoming increasingly damp at each roll of your hips, each sound that came from your boyfriend and each teasing squeeze he gave your hips.

You grasp the hem of his compression shirt for stability, unintentionally lifting it higher up his abs, cock sitting prettily against his stomach, tip flushed red as it leaks precum.

He's practically drooling at the sight of you on top of him, wearing nothing but those panties he bought for you just a week ago. Tits just begging to be touched as they rise and fall with every heavy breath. Lips glistening with spit from where they'd been trapped between your teeth. And he can't miss your sweet whimpers that sound like music to his ears. God, you're driving him crazy.

“Jaem.” you whine, dropping your head back from the intense pleasure. Hearing you moan his name goes through both ears and shoots straight down to his cock, and now you're barely controlling your own hips. You’re more or less moving by his strength alone, admiring each flex of his biceps as he leads your soaked core onto his length. He's desperate with it. Allowing Jaemin to control you so effortlessly drew you closer to where you needed to be and that familiar feeling grows within you.

Your eyebrows slightly knit together as the pressure on your clothed clit increases, feeling his hips begin to buck up into you, looking at you with half-lidded eyes filled with nothing but desire.

“Keep going, princess,” he groans, as if he's not the one doing 90% the work, using you to get off. But were you one to complain? Of course not. “just like that.”

“Fuck,” you squeal, gripping his shirt harder as you reach closer and closer. “I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me, baby”

Your walls clench around nothing as you finally tip over the edge, slick covering your panties as if they weren’t drenched enough. Endless moans leave your lips, continuing to feel Jaemin’s cock slide beneath you, helping you ride out your orgasm and bring him closer to release.

His eyes screw shut, warm cum shooting out onto his stomach with a deep groan. His movements waver as he becomes more sensitive, not stopping until he's released his whole load.

As Jaemin comes down from his high, the grip on your hips eases, and your breathing starts to slow down, biting your lip at the sight of the mess he made. And just as you lift a leg up to leave the position on his lap, he's quick to grab hold of your thigh, stopping you and making you sit back down. He pulls the strap of your panties away from you before letting it smack against your skin, making you yelp.

“I’m not done with you yet, doll.”

[moonpjs]

no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cow girl, doggy, backwards, forwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling. teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip bitting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, body shivering, orgasmic, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, devious, scrumptious, amazing, delightful, delectable, unbelievable, body numbing, bark worthy, can’t walk, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, sweat rolling, voice cracking, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, show stopping, magnificent, unique, extraordinary, splendid, phenomenal, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tangos, he could put a nuclear bomb inside me and I’d still ride.

[moonpjs]

[ req? yes / no ]

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ──────── haechan was telling the truth when he said he wasn’t above begging

( 対 ) lee donghyuck + fem. reader wc. 0.7k genre smut · contains! sub!haechan , handjobs , crying kink , unprotected sex mature content. / back to library

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ based off of this video … it did something to me 🫠 …

when your boyfriend told you he wasn’t above begging for your attention you laughed ; he was dramatic like that , so you just brushed it off. “donghyuck be serious.” you walk to your shared room , he was trying to stop you from going out for drinks , and he was using any means necessary. “you think i’m playing , i’m serious i’m not above begging, you think i won’t beg?”

he followed behind his you , still pleading his case. “i don’t think you will , i think you’re being dramatic as usual , but it’s not gonna work this time.” you say ready to get into the shower — thinking he gave up you. he in fact didn’t. “baby.”

you watched in shock as the man before you fell to his knees , looking up at you with shiny eyes. “hyuck what are you doing?” his hands were on his knees , he was really about to beg you. “please.” he started , his voice already full of desperation. “please stay home.” he pleaded over and over , even more desperate than the last. “i need you , need you so badly.” he whined , sending a wave of pleasure to your lower region. you never saw him act like this before … it really woke something up in you.

“you need me?” you brought your hand up to his cheek , he nestled his face into your hand. “so bad , it hurts.” your thumb swiping across his plump lip. “it hurts?” he nodded. “poor baby.” you mocked , he whined. “please touch me.” he said. “i’ll do anything , please just touch me.”

haechan felt like he was gonna pass out , you were using him , pumping his cock over and over , pushing him right to the edge , just to ruin his orgasm. “you were so desperate for me to use you , why are you crying like a baby now?” you pouted , squeezing his base. “you wanted this.” he cried out as you forced his hips down. “i-i need to cum , please let me cum.”

“but you said you’d do anything i want.” you said evilly. “well what i want is to make you cry.” you chuckled , releasing your hand , ruining his orgasm for 3rd time. “go-god please.” he sobbed out. “please yn , please let me cum.” his hips bucked up trying to catch your hand. his cock bobbing against his stomach , a deep dark red. “not yet , i’m not done.”

his eyes could help but roll back as you finally sunk down on him. “ah shit!” he cursed , feeling your warm cunt suffocating his cock. “wait , please don’t move.” he moaned , trying to compose himself. “i’m gonna cum if you do.” you scoffed. “that’s pathetic.” you slowly rocked your hips back and forth. “you’ll regret it if you cum.” you began to bounce on his cock. “wa-wait , not so fast please.”

his face was wet from tears , it was such a turn on watch your boyfriend be reduced to a puddle of tears. “you look so pretty crying like this.” you kissed his wet cheeks. “you wanna cum that bad?” he nodded , gripping the sheets. “so-so bad , please let me cum.” he was seeing stars , his stomach tightening. “should i make you beg?” you smiled watching his shake his head vigorously. “no no please.” he cried out. “please let me cum , please.”

you decide to give him a break. “cum.” and that’s all he needed before he bucked his hips up , cumming inside you , he let out a loud sob as he shot ropes and ropes of cum inside you. “oh my god.” he gasped out. “fuck fuck fuck.”

his head was spinning as you kept going. “i-i came.” he stuttered. “but i didn’t , are you gonna be selfish?” he really didn’t have it in him , but he promised you. “aren’t you gonna be my good boy?” he nodded. “i-i’ll be good.” he stuttered. “good.”

“because i’m about to milk your pretty cock dry.”

©️LUVYENI

[moonpjs]

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