Keehomania - Tumblr Blog

HI I WANTED TO CHECK UP ON U

I HOPE UR FEELING BETTER BAE ARE U STILL SICK ?!!?

also ur posts lately have been making me giggle omg ur the silliest person on this app

AND ALWAYS TAGGING MY ASKS W YANGYANG OBBY PLSS LMFAOO ILY

HEY POOKIE I MISSED U 😛 i’m not sick anymore but i’m going through writer’s block and have no motivation to write 😓 SEEING THIS MADE MY DAY THO EVERYBODY GO FOLLOW YANGYANG’S WIFE RN!!! ILY SO MUCH U HAVE NO IDEA

officer black belt is making kim woobin popular and even though i should be happy i am NOT 💜 been my man since the heirs and NOW yall wanna come through smh

what is wrong with u losers bruh tiktok kpoppies are so fucking sensitive yall wouldn’t last a DAY on stan twt. “that’s a real person btw” girl nobody gaf 😭 real person or not i wanna p diddle him bitch 2d or 3d he getting doodled. first thing i thought when i opened the replies was ofc it’s a fucking aye domino cult connoisseur. girl replied saying it’s sexual harassment...sense may not be common i fear. if u guys wanna fuck someone that’s sexual harassment ig we all spawns of diddy now

he could fix me

i will never forgive yall for not giving hello venus the attention they deserved. “cuntiest kpop songs” but no “i’m ill” or “wiggle wiggle” is crazy work

crazy (guilty pleasure) came on as i was cropping these photos, so i really wanna believe this is him. miss him so much.

u r Bosnian? Like RS?

bosnian-american lol was born in the usa & spent 10 years there, parents are both bosnian & i currently live in bosnia. not like rs! i will never accept rs as a part of bosnia until all serbs are exiled from there 🥰 if ur a serb dni with me like ever lol!

neomu areumdaun daun daun daun view neomu areumdaun daun daun daun view deo boyeojweo daeum daeum daeum daeum view neomu areumdaun daun daun daun view

“descendants of the sun” (2016)

oh im curious yea sajin sog nega

2 days without keehomania post my life feels so depressing n hard

stop i miss u sm 😓 day 2 no lean im sick and waiting to get better 🙏 slept like 5 different times today bro but ily ill be back just for u 😛

hi! i recently read your mark drabble about big boob reader and i was wondering if you could write one but the opposite? reader has a small chest and feels insecure bc of it? something along those lines maybe

hi my love!! i have one right here although it’s definitely a longer one. if ur interested in a shorter one, lmk and i’ll do that too <3

No one wants to see cringe smut when searching for wishie stuff bro-

“wishie stuff” slide 5! next level koreaboo age regression aegyo core! you literally cut yourself off with a “-” babe are you not embarrassed of typing like ur in an ao3 mpreg omegaverse fanfiction? block me instead of complaining, maybe set ur phone down and go outside and touch grass. hope this helps!

I love your responses to the hate and negative asks 😂 gurrrrllll, I’m a married woman, but you are FINE 😍 I’d leave my husband for you. Keep up the good work! Xxx

tell your husband to hold you real close before i came and take you for myself!!! there’s no such thing as hate unless you let it become hate, people are just bored and that’s okay

you are weird for being a jay park stan but then again ur caucasian so it makes sense...weirdo pls do your homework bimbo

wdym cock asian damn ma u 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂

you sound like a prehistoric flintstone caveman who just discovered fire for the first time a whole lotta ooga booga and none of it’s making sense i fear. i love jay park loud and proud the same way you love deepthroating his meat on my page. if u hate him as much as u claim to, have you tried idk not bringing him up? do u need a step by step tutorial? do you need a diy version? should we invite wengie? gtfo lieutenant pencil neck

johnny let me suh ur dick

no lube, no protection, all night all day from the kitchen floor to the dining table from the bed to church, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic exponential, logarithmic, while i gasp for air scream the lord’s prayer, johnny CAN TOP ME until i'm swollen, until i’m crying, until he's out of juice, until i can’t walk, until I’m numb, until my throat hurts, until my cheeks are red, until the neighbours know his name, until my insides becomes outsides, until my hole remember the shape, until my jaws fall off, until my leg is useless, until my eyes are rolled back and it stays there, until my body does a backflip, until my whole body shakes, until the skin peels off, until my bones disconnect, until i pass out, until i’m paralyzed for the rest of my life, until all my eggs are fertilized, until all my holes are filled, until i can’t breathe, until it gets longer than before, until he couldn’t stand, until i die, until my mouth can’t eat, until i remember the length of it, until the end of time, until he dont have it anymore, until his hole remembers the size and girth, until it reaches my stomach, until hes grunting and growling, until he has to regenerate it, until the whole world hears. i’m gonna get him pregnant ten times over breeding him all day all night no protection just me and him all over the house on the floor on the couch on the bed in the shower on the rooftops even god couldn’t pull me out of him.

Why are ppl beefing with you bro💀 so jealous

they wanna have sex with me ig 😓

stop clogging nct wish tags 🤡

how abt i clog your mom’s asshole instead? put ur thinking cap on and block me

“moon lovers: scarlet heart ryeo” (2016)

cr: nyellaa_ (tiktok)

this is THE drama like this is THE ultimate drama. guys moon lovers is such a timeless masterpiece, idk if i regret not watching it when it was popular or if i regret watching it at all. youth of may, 2521, snowdrop, etc have nothing on moon lovers wallah. this is the most heartbreaking show i’ve ever watched and also one of the best. they ease you into the show with the first ten episodes, make you think you’re in for a historical rom-com. loud and wrong! every twist and death was heartbreaking and the ending ruined me because it’s not even a regular, oh she’s dead, type shit. it's like, he thinks she’s dead and he’ll NEVER see her again because it’s the past, but she’s alive and has to spend the rest of her life remembering him and she can never go back because IT’S THE PAST. that’s so painful fuck this show ngl it’s the one drama i’ll never rewatch. hope this HELPS! 💜

hello! can I please ask for dom xiaojun with afab reader and creampie stuff? i felt like not many story abt him here

SWEET HOME — XIÀO DÉJÙN (肖德俊) (18+)

✧ MDNI (NSFW)

why did people endure the bad life threw at them? why was the path ahead always so rocky? you crossed all the bridges laid out for you, not for the thrill of the journey, but for one reason and one reason only—to reach the other side. the other side was always promised to be warmer, more forgiving, more welcoming. the other side kissed scarred knuckles and brought life back to weak pulse points. it held the kind of peace that made you believe the hardships were just a fleeting dream, a memory easily forgotten in the haze of new beginnings.

but the truth lingered, no matter how hard you tried to forget. the hardships were real. they were carved into the person you’d become, shaping you like clay pressed under relentless hands. they were the reason you could stand tall now, feet firmly planted on the ground, even when everything inside felt like it was floating, uncertain. they were the cruel, quiet moments of crying into your hands, panicking over assignments left undone, opportunities missed. you were in your senior year—why hadn’t you done more? why hadn’t you pushed yourself harder, sought out those extra credits that could’ve given you some sense of security? the weight of that regret felt unbearable sometimes, pressing down on your chest until you could barely breathe.

and then came the anxiety. the thick, consuming realization that college acceptance meant more than just a new chapter in your life—it meant you were no longer anybody’s little girl. you were no longer wrapped in the warmth and familiarity of your sweet home, no longer protected by those walls that had once made the world outside seem so far away. now, it was right in front of you, towering and daunting, filled with the unknown. a new place, new people, new responsibilities. it was all so unfamiliar, and you weren’t used to any of it.

falling in love for the first time was supposed to be beautiful, wasn’t it? that’s what everyone said—love was the one thing that was supposed to make everything better. but how could something so beautiful be so terrifying? why did it feel like every emotion was heightened, every glance, every word loaded with meaning? why was déjùn ignoring you when just last week, he had been everything you needed? why were you so mad at him, when you couldn’t even remember what had sparked the argument in the first place?

the cycle was exhausting. déjùn would get worried, you’d get upset. you’d break up, convinced it was the end, only to stalk each other like prey around campus, neither one of you willing to fully let go. and then, inevitably, you’d make up, but it never seemed to get any easier. somehow, no matter how broken things felt, life never kept you too far apart. maybe there was a reason for that. there was.

there was a reason. a reason that went deeper than anything fate could’ve scripted for you. it wasn’t just about watching déjùn smile or listening to his voice as he mumbled sleepily into your neck on those nights where time seemed to slow, letting you savor every heartbeat. no, it was more than that. it was to warm the hands that kept you going, to shelter the body that melted so perfectly against yours, as if you’d been carved from the same stone. the reason transcended the simple notion of destiny; it went beyond what the universe might have planned for you both.

you knew it when you saw him cry for the first time, and everything changed. he was always the composed one—the one who kept it together when the world felt like it was unraveling. his cool exterior never faltered, or at least, that’s what you thought until the night it all fell apart. it happened in your dorm, the quiet, familiar space suddenly feeling like a place for unraveling instead of refuge. he had broken down in front of you like he hadn’t in front of anyone else. the sobs came from deep within him, raw and uncontrolled, shaking his body in a way that left you speechless.

he had sat on your bed, hands covering his face, broken sobs echoing off the walls. His whole body shuddered with each breath, the pain pouring out of him like a dam had finally burst. you didn’t know why. he never told you, and you never asked. you never had to. it wasn’t the words that mattered in that moment, it was the feeling, the weight of his pain heavy enough to crush both of you. and so you wept with him. his tears fell, unfiltered, washing over your heart, the same heart that beat for him without hesitation.

you had held him, arms wrapped around his shaking frame, fingers tangled in his hair, and cried until his sobs finally quieted. until his breathing evened out, and the room fell silent again, save for the occasional hitch in his breath. but even that moment—intimate, raw, and unforgettable—wasn’t the full reason. the reason went beyond every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise he had never once broken. he had given you a home in his arms, a place where you belonged, where the rest of the world didn’t matter. and you were determined to give him that same home, something tangible, something sweet that he could call his own.

the house was more than just a dream. it was real, a piece of you given to him. nestled between the fields and the trees, with a creek nearby and a church hidden deep within the forest. the barn and pens were close, but they never reeked of animals. instead, the air smelled of freshwater and lilies, just like you had always imagined it would. the subtle scent of freshly baked bread lingered from the home bakery nearby, the kind of smell that made your stomach rumble in anticipation.

the house itself was two stories, painted in a soft white that reflected the sun’s warmth. but it wasn’t just white—it was touched with dabs of his favorite color. that dear green of his, the one that reminded you of life and renewal, stained the edges of the house in delicate patterns, blending into the scenery in a way that felt right, not overdone. the front steps led up to a porch where a swing swayed gently, waiting for the two of you to sit on it together, watching the sky stretch out before you. lamps stood at every corner, offering light even in the house’s darkest moments, casting a glow that felt as comforting as his presence beside you.

inside, the hallway stretched long, tiled floors echoing the soft sound of your footsteps. at the end of the hall, the bathroom sat to the right, perfectly positioned for convenience, though you barely noticed those details now. the front door led to the stairs, winding up to the second floor where your future awaited. through the door at the end of the hallway, the kitchen and living room intertwined, open and welcoming. only a small, dainty dining table separated the two spaces, enough to give the illusion of division but keeping the warmth of the home intact.

it was a place meant for sharing, for filling with memories. you could already picture yangyang sprawled across the couch, controllers in hand, keeping déjùn company when you were too busy. the boys would all gather here, because it was home. it wasn’t just a house—it was the place he had always needed, filled with laughter and warmth, with the scent of lilies and bread and the sound of friends filling the space with life. the first time he saw it, his eyes welled up, and he broke down again, not in pain this time, but in pure, unfiltered joy. you cried with him, standing there on the porch, the two of you holding each other in the doorway of the life you had built together. it was everything he had ever wanted, and it was given to him by the only person he had ever truly needed.

you stood by the stove, the warm, cozy glow of the kitchen wrapping around you like a familiar hug. the room was your sanctuary, every little detail curated to your liking, but there were traces of déjùn everywhere. a coffee mug he always used, a soft green tea towel he’d picked out, even the way the pots were arranged had his influence. it was a constant reminder that he was always there, woven into every corner of your life. you could feel him in the air, in the way the sun filtered through the windows, and in the gentle way the house creaked, as though it was alive with both of your memories.

you were making one of his favorites—peanut noodles with chili crisp. the rich scent filled the air as you prepped, hands working deftly, slicing and mixing with a practiced ease. a batch of iced green tea waited for him in the fridge, the condensation slowly forming on the glass, just the way he liked it. everything you did for him was done with care, every detail proving the love that pulsed through you. it had always been this way. every action, every gesture, was imbued with a purpose, because everything you did was for him.

you were so immersed in it, focused on the rhythm of your movements, that you hadn’t heard him come in. he stood there, just behind you, watching quietly. he didn’t want to intrude, but the scent had drawn him in, and now the sight of you convinced him to stay. you looked so pretty. your hair was tied up in a loose bun, strands falling just out of place, framing your face in a way that made you glow. your brows furrowed in concentration, your lips, soft and pink, pouted just slightly as you worked. a pink apron tied neatly at your back over your sundress, making you look both delicate and capable all at once. you were perfect.

he couldn’t believe he had you—couldn’t believe that someone so good, so kind, was his. the sight of you, standing there in your shared kitchen, cooking for him in a house that may not have been made by you, but had been turned into a home because of you. the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, of anyone else getting even a glimpse of you, stirred something possessive deep inside him. no one deserved that. no one but him.

you didn’t notice his presence until you felt it—his warmth, his breath ghosting over your ear, so close it made the hairs on your neck stand up. your body tensed for a moment, but then you softened, melting into his familiar touch. a smile tugged at your lips as you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you close. “everything okay?” you murmured, your voice soft, your expression relaxed now that he was near. his arms tightened around you, and you felt his face press into the crook of your neck, the closeness sending a wave of warmth over you.

your voice was like honey to him, sweet and soothing. you felt so small in his grasp, so helpless in the best way possible. his presence was overwhelming in the most intoxicating way, and you loved it. he made you feel safe but also powerless, as though the mere act of him holding you was enough to remind you who you belonged to. “i love you so much,” déjùn murmured against your skin, his voice low, breath hot as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“i love you too,” you whispered back, your voice shaky, hands trembling slightly around the knife you still held. the sensation of his lips on your neck, the possessiveness of his hold, it was too much. you didn’t even realize how much your hands were shaking until his fingers, large and sure, gently closed around yours, guiding the knife out of your grip and setting it on the counter. his touch was careful, but there was no mistaking the dominance in it. he took your hand into his, long fingers wrapping around your much smaller ones, grounding you.

“i'm almost done, okay?” you asked, trying to steady your breath, trying to focus on anything but the heat pooling low in your stomach.

his response was a quiet, “i'm not patient enough,” his voice was gravelly, deeper now, filled with something darker, as his lips found the curve of your neck again. this time, he didn’t stop. “i'm not patient enough to resist you,” he said, his words sending a fresh wave of heat through you.

before you could respond, his hands were on your hips, gripping you firmly as he turned you around in one fluid motion. a surprised yelp escaped your lips, but it was quickly swallowed by the intensity of his gaze. his fingers spread over your thighs, slipping under the hem of your dress, teasingly close to where you were already aching for him. he lifted you effortlessly, and instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist. “so pretty,” déjùn murmured, his voice soft but filled with adoration as he pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek, his lips wet and warm. “aren't you?”

you were flushed, the heat creeping up from your chest to your face, and all you could do was nod, unable to form coherent words as his lips found yours. the kiss wasn’t hurried or sloppy; it was purposeful. his lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your knees weak, though you didn’t need to stand. he was holding you, carrying you with ease as he walked, never breaking the kiss as he made his way up the stairs.

by the time you reached the bedroom, your breathing had quickened, but he was steady, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world. he kicked the door open with his foot, crossing the threshold with a grin that made your heart flutter. when he laid you down on the bed, his body hovered over yours, his hands trailing down to your thighs once more. his touch was electric, and all you could do was let yourself melt into him, the weight of the world disappearing as his lips claimed yours again.

the kiss deepened, his lips moving slowly, deliberately, as if savoring each moment, each taste of you. his hands, though gentle, had a strength that made you feel small beneath him, yet cherished. his fingers, impossibly long and deft, found the apron tied over your dress, pulling at the knot with ease. the fabric loosened and fell away, forgotten, as his attention shifted to the way your knees bent, your legs spreading just slightly, enough for him to notice the hitch in your breath.

his eyes followed the movement, lingering where your dress had bunched up, revealing the soft cotton of your pink panties. his gaze dropped to the faint dampness staining the fabric, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. his thumb traced the outline of your swollen lips, his touch feather-light but sending a ripple of anticipation through your body.

“what do you want, baby?” his voice was low, almost a whisper, as his thumb pressed lightly against your bottom lip. the question hung in the air between you, heavy and full of promise, but the words you wanted to say tangled in your throat. you let out a small, pathetic whimper, your mouth parting slightly as his thumb pushed past your lips, pressing against your tongue.

“you know i’ll give my girl whatever she wants if she uses her words, right?” he murmured, his tone teasing but affectionate, the dark timber of it wrapping around you like a velvet rope. his thumb pressed deeper, your lips wrapping around the knuckle as you instinctively closed your mouth around him. the weight of his finger, the intimacy of it, made your breath hitch, a broken sound escaping your throat as you struggled to find your voice. you nodded, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as his thumb pressed further into your mouth, deeper until it filled the space, until he was satisfied. your teeth grazed lightly against his skin as you tried to speak around him, your voice muffled, rasping out a soft, desperate plea. “want you, xiao, please.”

his eyes darkened at your words, his free hand cupping your cheek as his thumb finally withdrew, leaving you gasping for breath. his gaze roamed over your face, taking in the tears clinging to your lashes, the flush of your cheeks, the way your lips were swollen and parted. his thumb brushed across your cheek, wiping away the tear that had slipped free, his lips curving into a gentle smile that didn’t quite reach the hunger in his eyes. “god, you’re too much,” he murmured, his voice thick with something darker, something possessive. his hand slipped down to your waist, fingers skimming the sensitive skin just above your panties. your breath hitched again, the sensation of his fingers so close to where you needed him most almost unbearable.

déjùn's knuckle grazed over your clothed pussy, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through you that made your nails dig into his arm. your fingertips brushed against the prominent veins running down his forearm, feeling his pulse beneath your touch. you were aching, desperate for more, but just when you thought he'd finally give you what you craved, he stopped. the loss of contact made your body tense with frustration, and you pouted, your lips parting in disappointment. he caught your expression and smiled, his fingers stroking the soft skin of your thigh. his touch was gentle, teasing, as he asked, “can you do something for me?”

you nodded eagerly, desperate for him to stop teasing, to finally get on with what you both so clearly wanted. “take everything off,” he said, his voice low, thick with desire, “and put your apron back on.”

the request caught you off guard, a moment of surprise flashing in your eyes, but you couldn’t deny the way your body responded to the thought. the sight of you in nothing but the apron—cooking for him, being his—was enough to drive him insane. it made you feel delicate, pretty, like you belonged to him completely. you could feel your pulse quickening at the idea, the excitement building as you imagined how his gaze would devour you.

standing on the bed, your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the hem of your sundress. déjùn was on his knees beneath you, his hands gently guiding you, helping to pull the fabric over your head. his lips followed the path of your dress as it lifted, leaving soft, lingering kisses down your stomach, his nose brushing against your skin. when the fabric pooled at your feet, his lips reached the top of your thighs, kissing just above your panties, his breath warm against the sensitive skin. the ache between his legs was becoming unbearable, the sight of you, the taste of your skin—it was overwhelming. hos hands slid up the back of your thighs, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh, gripping you like he never wanted to let go.

your hands were shy, hesitant, as you reached behind your back to unhook your bra. the strap loosened, and déjùn’s hands were quick to pull it down, his eyes dark with desire as the material fell away. he leaned upward, his lips finding the bare skin of your breast, his tongue darting out to trace slow, tantalizing circles around your nipple. a soft moan escaped your lips, your back arching slightly as his mouth closed over you, sucking gently. “keep going, baby,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot against your nipple. his voice was low, laced with hunger, urging you on.

you did as you were told, your fingers trembling as you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your thighs. déjùn's mouth left your breast, but his hand replaced it, groping and tugging at the sensitive flesh as he shifted his attention lower. he was utterly entranced by the sweet smell of your core, the way your body trembled as you exposed yourself to him. his free hand moved to spread your thighs apart, his fingers gentle but firm, guiding you to open for him. his lips brushed against your inner thigh, trailing soft kisses as he moved closer to where you needed him most. you could feel his breath hot against your folds, his nose grazing your entrance, teasing you, making you shake beneath his touch.

“xiao—” you began to beg, your voice a broken whisper, but he cut you off with a soft shush, his lips brushing against your thigh as he did. the vibration of his voice shot straight through you, making your core tighten in anticipation. “almost there,” he murmured, his voice soft, soothing, but full of promise. you let out a small whimper, your hips shifting slightly, aching for him to stop teasing. but instead of giving in, he licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your thigh, his nose brushing dangerously close to your core without touching. he inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of your arousal, and it took everything in him to resist the temptation to devour you.

you reached for the apron, your hands shaking as you pulled it over your head, the thin straps tightening around your neck as you adjusted it. déjùn pulled back just enough to watch, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body. the front of the apron barely covered you, the fabric tight around your waist, your breasts spilling out from the sides. from his angle, your core was still exposed, and the sight made his breath hitch.

with a groan, he reached for you, his hands gripping your hips as he turned you around, his gaze taking in the sight of your ass peeking out from the back of the apron. his fingers trembled slightly as he hastily tied the strings behind you, pulling you back down onto the bed. “you drive me insane,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping you firmly as he tugged the knot tight.

déjùn laid you down gently on your back, his body hovering over yours, and for a moment, the world felt still. his lips found yours in a kiss so soft, so slow, that it made your heart stutter. his eyes scanned over you, lingering on the way the apron clung to your body, leaving so much exposed yet teasingly hidden. “you like it?” you asked shyly, your voice barely a whisper, your breath catching as his gaze turned heavy with desire.

without a word, his hands shot up, grabbing your breasts where they spilled shamelessly out of the apron’s sides, kneading them with an intensity that made your entire body flush with heat. “so much,” he groaned, his voice thick with hunger. “look so perfect, so pretty. the prettiest wife.” your breath hitched, a soft whimper escaping your lips as his words sank into you. but it was what he said next that made your body tremble, made the air in the room feel heavier, thicker. “you’ll be an even prettier mommy.”

the thought made you squirm beneath him, your thighs pressing together instinctively as his hands worked over your body. the idea of being his—entirely, fully, and forever—drove him wild. he didn’t just want you. he wanted to claim you, to breed you, to see you swollen with the weight of his children. the thought of you, plump and heavy with his seed, your belly round and your breasts full, helpless and tender for him—he needed it. he could already picture it: kissing your feet to soothe your exhaustion, cradling your swollen belly, watching you as you moved around his home, his perfect, precious wife. it was the most enchanting image, one that fueled the fire already burning inside him.

“gonna let me make you one, yeah?” his voice was soft, almost a plea, though there was nothing but certainty in his eyes. even with the unbearable strain in his pants, he was patient, waiting for your answer. “yeah,” you murmured, your voice shaking with need, “put a baby in me.” you would give him whatever he wanted because you wanted it just as much, maybe even more. the thought of being his, completely his, sent shivers down your spine, and you could feel the tension building inside him, the way his body shuddered at your words.

a grunt escaped him as he pushed your knees to your chest, spreading you wide open for him. his head dipped between your thighs, and instead of diving in like you expected, he pressed his face into your core, breathing you in deeply. his groan reverberated through your body, and your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you moaned. he had no idea just how wet you were, how ready you were for him. your slick clung to his nose and cheeks as he nuzzled deeper, the heat of his breath and the pressure of his face sending waves of pleasure through your core. you could feel the wetness slipping down your thighs, soaking his skin, and it only made you need him more.

“you’re making a mess, baby,” he grunted, his voice rough as his hands kneaded your thighs, fingers tracing the edge of the apron. “fuck, getting me all fucking dirty.” your response was nothing more than a pitiful whine, your body arching beneath him, lips parting as tears welled in your eyes from the overwhelming need for more. the sensation of his face pressed against you, his nose grazing your clit, was driving you mad.

then, his tongue flicked out, wrapping around your clit with a precision that made you see stars. he sucked at it gently at first, teasing you, then harder, his lips closing over your entire core. his tongue darted out, licking up and down your slit, collecting every bit of your juices, savoring the taste of you. “too much,” you shuddered, your voice barely a whisper as you tried to hold back. “wanna cum on your dick, please.”

you could beg all you liked, but déjùn was as mean as he was generous. he didn’t listen, didn’t stop. his pace quickened, his nose pressing into your clit while his tongue worked over your folds, licking up the slick that dripped down your thighs. you tasted so sweet, so familiar, and the more he tasted, the more he wanted. your core throbbed beneath his touch, your walls tightening as the pleasure built, unbearable, almost too much. you whimpered as he slipped a finger inside you, curling it, hitting that soft, spongy spot that made you cry out.

you sobbed quietly, the sensation overwhelming, your body on the brink of release. but just when you thought you’d fall over the edge, he pulled away. the loss of his mouth, of his touch, left you trembling, a frustrated whine escaping your lips. he was so mean. so mean. but then, his face softened, a gentle smile gracing his lips as he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your mouth. his chin was slick with your juices, his breath hot against your lips, and his fingers brushed away the tears that had spilled from your eyes.

“gonna stretch you out so good,” he groaned against your mouth, his words laced with promise, with need. “baby’s gonna pop right out once i’m done with you.” the taste of your arousal lingered on your tongue as his lips moved over yours, his hands roaming your body, his touch firm yet tender. you could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body trembled with restraint as he hovered above you, his cock hard and aching against your thigh.

he made you watch as he peeled his clothes away, but you would’ve watched either way. how could you not? how could you look away, when he looked so good? his dark hair clung to his forehead, slick with sweat. in fact, he was sweaty all around. his chin and fingers were still wet with your arousal, but every other part of him was wet with sweat, and he’s never looked better. what really had your attention was his boxers, the sight of the tip of his cock peeking out from the top, hard and angry, pressing against his abs, eager to escape its confinement.

he chuckled as he watched your concentration, disrupting your thoughts. it only encouraged him to continue, tugging his boxers down his thighs eagerly. he let out a shameless groan as his cock collided with his stomach, upright and hard to the touch, the cool air grazing it and flooding him with temporary relief. he was so big, so so big, and you would never get used to it. every vein was prominent, blue clashing with the angry shade of red his cock was, begging for attention in every way. he seemed smug, pleased with how shocked you were as he took your frail hand and wrapped it around the base.

“oh, fuck,” he growled at the feeling of your fingers wrapped around him so generously. you looked up at him with doe eyes, innocent and sweet as if you weren’t a filthy mess for him. you stroked him from the base of his cock to the tip, your thumb dancing around the slit where pre-cum had started dribbling down his shaft. you savored the sounds he was making as you collected his seed with your thumb, releasing his dick just to plop your thumb into your mouth. he watched with a sinister gaze as your lips wrapped around your finger, sucking off the salty mess he was starting to make.

just like that, it was over. he pushed your knees up to your chest once more, eyes glazing over your weeping cunt a final time as he grabbed his dick, alligning it with your cunt. you could feel the tip against your clit, rock hard and thick as he tapped it against your pussy. “xiao, please, need you to fuck me,” you begged through unshed tears. you were about to press down against him, to stir up the smallest bit of friction, but he was mean. he held your hip down with his free hand, just to release his dick from his other one.

then, it unfolded before you could predict it. his free hand came down against your pussy, harsh and unforgiving with a squelch as his palm collided with a smack. your hips stuttered at the pain and sinful pleasure as a tear fell down your cheek, the weight of his cruel gaze unmatched. he spread his fingers in front of your face with a subtle smirk. “see how wet you are?” he cooed, gesturing to the slick dripping down his palm. “see how wet i make you?” all you could do was nod, too ashamed and too desperate to talk. he was plased, all too pleased with just how abused your cunt looked from a single slap.

it urged him on, encouraging him to bring his cock right back to your core. this time, there was no teasing. he would so generously give you what you were looking for, no matter how much it hurt—and it definitely hurt. no matter how many times he fucked you, no matter how hard, you would never adjust to his size. you moaned in synchronization as he eased his dick past your folds, your walls clamping down on him the second he entered you. you could feel every inch, every vein and every pulse. it was raw, it was painful, and it felt too good.

his eyes locked with yours as he slammed into you, the sound of your moans and the slap of his skin against yours echoing in the room. your tits bounced with every thrust, smacking against your chin as your knees were forced into your chest. you felt so full, so used, so utterly owned by this man. and yet, you craved more. “deeper,” you panted, your nails digging into the bed as your body begged for release. “deeper, xiao, need more.” he would oblige, he wanted it more than you did. he was determined to put a baby in you.

his strokes grew more erratic, his breaths shallower as he fucked you like it was his life's mission. your eyes never left his, the connection between you palpable. his cock was like a piston, relentlessly plunging into your tight pussy, hitting that spot that made you scream his name with every thrust. your walls quivered around him, desperately trying to keep him in, to keep that feeling forever. “this pussy was made for my cock, yeah?” he slurred, circling his hips before slamming right back into you. tears slid down your cheeks at the sensation of it, you wanted to be owned by him.

his hand tightened around your hip, his other gripping your chin to force your gaze up to his. “tell me how much you love it, baby. tell me how much you want my cum inside you,” he demanded, his voice thick with need. and you did, you told him just how much you loved it, how much you needed it. you begged him to fill you up, to breed you, to make you his. “fill me up with your cum, dont let any spill out,” you begged through your tears as they coated his hand. “get me pregnant, knock me up, xiao—fuck—” he was relentless, absolutely relentless with his hands on your knees, pushing you back to let him go deeper, his balls slapping against the flesh of your ass as he threw his head back with a groan.

you watched as his abs tensed, his cock thickening even more as he picked up his pace. the smack of skin on skin grew louder, your moans turning into screams as he hit your sweet spot over and over again. it was agonizingly beautiful, the way his body moved with yours, the way your cunt clamped down on him as he drove deeper, the way your tits jiggled with every thrust. you felt yourself getting closer, your walls tightening around his dick, the pressure building. he was gonna breed your cunt, make an oven out of your pussy.

his thumb found your clit, rubbing it in firm circles as he fucked you harder, the friction setting your nerves alight. “i’m gonna cum,” you gasped, your voice high and desperate. “i’m gonna cum on your cock, xiao.” he grunted, his hips slamming into you, his own orgasm just as imminent. “yes, baby, cum for me,” he whispered, his eyes dark with lust. “cum all over me, show me how much you want it.” and just like that, you did. your body tensed, your back arched, and a scream tore from your throat as your pussy spasmed around his cock, clenching tight as you came harder than you ever had before.

his rhythm didn't falter, though. if anything, it grew more intense, more punishing. “not yet,” he said, his voice strained. “i’m not done with you.” his thumb kept working your clit, pushing you into another orgasm, and another, until your cries were nothing but desperate pleas for mercy. but mercy wasn't something déjùn knew how to give, not when he had you like this, not when he could feel you milking him, begging for his seed.

his eyes were wild with lust, his pupils blown wide as he watched you come undone beneath him. “you’re gonna take every drop,” he promised, his strokes growing shallower as he chased his own release. “you’re gonna be pregnant with my baby, you're gonna carry it and grow it and push it out just for me.” the thought sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that had you trembling all over.

his thumb never left your clit, even as his hips stuttered, his cock pulsing with the beginnings of his orgasm. “xiao,” you whispered, “i’m gonna—” but he silenced you with a kiss, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting the salt of your tears and the sweetness of your cries. he groaned against your lips, his hand leaving your chin to wrap around the base of his cock as he pushed in one final, deep thrust. you felt the warmth of his cum fill you, the pressure building until it was almost too much. your eyes rolled back in your head as your body was hit with a final wave of pleasure, his seed spilling into your womb. “yes,” you chanted, your voice muffled by his mouth. “yes, yes, yes—”

his body tensed above you, his muscles tight as he emptied himself inside you. his cock jerked, pulsing, and you could feel every drop of his cum coating your insides. when he finally pulled out, a string of it followed, connecting his cock to your pussy before snapping, leaving a trail of white on your skin. “so good,” he murmured, kissing down your neck as his hands softened on your hips. “so fucking good.” he was pleased, too pleased. all with the sight of your pussy coated in white—coated in his white.

✧

a/n: what would you do if when you okay so he said yes would GO 💜 thank you for requesting ily

my bad

after reading all ur mark fics i need more 😩😩 how about bsf mark and reader and reader teasing mark till he loses control 🤭🤭

BAD TASTE — MARK LEE (마크이) (DRABBLE)

✧ MDNI (18+)

you had known mark lee for as long as you could remember, ever since his family moved to korea when you were both just kids. your mothers, best friends in their youth, had practically sealed your fates as companions the moment they introduced you to each other. and from the beginning, mark was different. a bit softer than the other boys, a bit louder, and always with that boundless energy that no one could ever match. but the neighborhood kids didn’t seem to care about any of that.

mark, with his wide smile and hopeful eyes, had no one to play with. his big, round eyes would search the playground for someone, anyone, to run to, but no one was ever waiting for him. they teased him for being different—his canadian accent, his constant need for attention. it wasn’t fair, but kids rarely are. you were the one who stood up for him, the one who made sure that mark wasn’t left standing alone by the swings with that forlorn expression he tried so hard to hide.

“come on, i’ll race you,” you’d say, grabbing his wrist as you tugged him toward the street, the sound of your laughter echoing down the block. it was always like that—the two of you, running off to the convenience store to buy the cheapest ice cream you could find. sticky hands, melting ice cream dripping down your fingers as you sat together on the curb, legs crossed, talking about nothing and everything. mark would look over at you with wide eyes, licking the ice cream off his hand, and you would smile back, never thinking much of it. at the time, none of it held any deeper meaning. you were kids, after all.

he was terrible at riding his bike, too. the image of him wobbly and flailing his arms every time he lost balance was etched into your memory. mark would cry over the smallest bruise, always a bit dramatic about his scrapes and cuts. “i can’t do it!” he would say, tears brimming in his eyes, the bike tossed to the ground in frustration.

but you, with your quiet patience, would stand behind him, hands gripping his waist, steadying him. “you’ve got this, mark. i won’t let go.” the promise was always there, in every word you spoke, in every gesture. you kept your arms around him, supporting him until, one day, he managed to pedal on his own. and when he did, the look of triumph on his face was unforgettable. he rode off, legs kicking at the pedals, laughing so freely, and you watched, content, never once imagining that such simple moments would later carry a weight you couldn’t ignore.

as you both grew older, those touches—the casual brushes of his hand against yours, the way he’d playfully bump your shoulder as you walked together—still held little meaning. he was mark, your childhood friend, the boy who had once cried over bruises but had grown confident, taller, and magnetic. in high school, something shifted. he had this pull, this charm, that made everyone gravitate toward him, especially the girls. and you? you found yourself drawn to him, too, in ways you hadn’t expected.

you wrote a note, one that held the words you couldn’t say aloud. a confession. but you weren’t sure, not completely. so, you asked a friend for advice, showed him the note, and after a glance, he nodded, giving you the green light. you felt ready, heart pounding, rehearsing the moment over and over in your head. but you never got the chance. that day, he had introduced you to his girlfriend. not just you—his mom, too. your heart had cracked, though you smiled through it, feeling the sting of the moment settle deep. it was a cruel irony, one that only encouraged you to push your feelings aside. you told yourself you didn’t need to confess. what mattered was your friendship, and you would make sure to preserve it. you threw yourself into that, becoming the best version of a friend that you could be.

still, you couldn’t help but plan a small surprise for him one night—a bag of the same cheap ice cream you used to share as kids, from the same convenience store that had witnessed your countless memories. but fate had another cruel twist. you saw him before you reached his door, sitting in his car with his girlfriend, their lips locked in an embrace you couldn’t unsee. he had pulled away when he noticed you, guilt etched in his features, but you just rolled your eyes and forced a smile. you went home that night, shared the ice cream with your family instead, and let that be your breaking point—the last time you would ever cry over him.

their relationship didn’t last long, only a year. when it ended, you asked him why they had broken up, fully expecting him to be heartbroken. but he wasn’t. he shrugged casually, a hint of nonchalance in his voice. “wasn’t working out.” you rolled your eyes at his indifference, clapping his shoulder in that familiar, comforting way. “we’ll drink tonight. you’ll get over her in no time.’

he smiled, nodded, and agreed. he was always up for spending time with you. What he didn’t admit—what neither of you admitted—was that his breakup had little to do with his ex. he had left her because, deep down, he was in love with you. but that confession was never spoken, never even hinted at as the years flew by. your friendship remained steady and inseparable, but so did the tension that lingered beneath the surface, like a secret you were both too afraid to unravel.

the heat of the living room clung to you, suffocating and unbearable, even as the ac hummed weakly in the background, doing little to cool the thick, humid air. you could feel it—the weight of the night pressing down on your skin, sticky and relentless, as if the entire room had absorbed the summer’s swelter and refused to let it go. the couch beneath you was warm, uncomfortable, and every shift in position seemed to generate more heat than relief. you flapped the hem of your shirt, trying to fan yourself, but it was pointless—nothing seemed to work. your skin felt flushed, burning from the inside out, as the alcohol from earlier settled uncomfortably in your stomach.

the television blared obnoxiously, some mindless show that had long since lost your interest, the volume dial turned up too high, each laugh track grating against your already frayed nerves. you groaned, eyes closed, trying to tune it out, but it only pissed you off more, the cacophony of sound wrapping around you like a vice. you could’ve sworn it was getting louder by the second, making the room feel even smaller, more unbearable.

then came the familiar buzz. the vibration of your phone on the coffee table, insistent and unrelenting, had been gnawing at the edges of your consciousness for over an hour. It hadn’t stopped—not once. at first, you had ignored it, trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t worth the energy. you already knew who it was. but curiosity eventually got the better of you, pulling you out of your fog of frustration.

with a low groan, you reached for your phone, flipping it over in your hand, the screen lighting up and casting a dim glow against your face. your eyes squinted at the notifications—yuta’s name unmistakable, flashing in bold text, his messages pouring in from not just one, but three different accounts. desperation oozed from every word, the text practically vibrating with his frantic energy. “it wasn’t what it looked like, baby, please.” “it was a mistake, don’t you know i love you?” “answer the phone, i’ll go crazy if you don’t.”

you exhaled sharply, scrolling through the seemingly endless string of messages, each one a variation of the same hollow plea. you’d read enough. it was as though you could feel the weight of each message, but none of it stirred anything in you except tired indifference. the lies were all too familiar, and you nearly felt yourself drifting off just trying to read through the recycled excuses—the same old, tired script that men like yuta always seemed to follow. you and him hadn’t even been dating that long—four months, maybe? barely enough time for him to matter. and yet here he was, acting as if the world would end without your forgiveness.

you stared blankly at the screen, thumb hovering over the ‘block’ button, but paused. not yet. not out of mercy, but simply because you couldn’t be bothered to deal with it right now. you tossed the phone back onto the table, letting it vibrate against the wood as you leaned back into the couch, the heat pressing down on you once again. johnny’s words rang in your head, an echo of a conversation you had months ago when this whole thing with yuta had started. he had practically pushed you into the relationship, convinced that it would be good for you.

“it’s for your own good,” he had told you, leaning back in his chair with that ever-knowing grin. you had rolled your eyes at the time, half-annoyed at his persistence. “you’re totally pimping me out right now,” you’d teased, feigning a dramatic hurt.

“you need a distraction. you need to get over mark, dude,” he had countered, his voice more serious than usual. he had your best interest at heart, you knew that much. he always did. but you weren’t convinced. “i’ve been over mark for a while, dude,” you had mimicked his tone, throwing the words back at him, though neither of you really believed it. johnny had given you that look—the one that said he knew better, even if you wouldn’t admit it.

of course, johnny was right. you hadn’t been over mark. not then, not now. but you had agreed to the date with yuta anyway, more out of exhaustion than excitement. he had seemed nice enough at the time, a distraction, if nothing else. you let the relationship run its course, despite your lack of real enthusiasm. it hadn’t stopped you from thinking about mark, but it had kept you busy enough to ignore it. mark, of course, had been the first to pester you about yuta. he didn’t even try to hide his disdain.

“he just doesn’t seem like your type,” mark had said one night, the bitterness barely masked by a joking tone as you all sat around having drinks. it was subtle, but you knew him well enough to see through the act. he didn’t like yuta—never had. before you could respond, yuta had shot back, his own dislike for mark just as transparent. “like you know what her type is,” he had argued, a smirk playing at his lips.

mark’s patience had snapped then, a sharpness in his voice you rarely heard. “i’ve known her my whole life. you’ve known her for, like, five days.” you had frowned at the time, guilt gnawing at the edges of your mind. you hadn’t meant to put mark in this position, hadn’t meant to make him out to be a jealous boyfriend. he was just being a good friend. that’s what you told yourself. he’s such a good friend, you thought, over and over, trying to convince yourself. maybe you were just tone-deaf, unable—or unwilling—to recognize what was really going on beneath the surface.

tonight, though, you had finally told mark the truth. you had caught yuta cheating—found him in a situation you couldn’t ignore. the betrayal stung, sure, but not in the way it might have if you had really cared about him. still, you had sent mark a message, telling him everything, expecting him to respond. but hours had passed, and there was nothing. no reply. he had seen the message, that much you knew, but his silence echoed louder than the buzzing of your phone.

“asshole,” you muttered to yourself, though you weren’t entirely sure if the insult was meant for yuta or for mark. your thoughts were hazy, a tangled mess of frustration, heat, and exhaustion. it didn’t matter. the weight of the night pressed on your chest, making it harder to think clearly. you were too damn hot, too tired, and too angry to care anymore.

with a sigh, you reached for the bottle, pouring beer over the remaining soju in your cup. the alcohol fizzed and swirled together, and you took another long sip, telling yourself it was just a little more. but after a few more cups, you’d lost track of how much you’d had. each drink added to the furnace inside you, the heat rising until it felt like you were being boiled alive from the inside out. your skin burned, sticky with sweat, and your body slumped deeper into the couch, the cushion swallowing your discomfort as you groaned into the thick, suffocating air.

after downing your fourth cup, you gave up. the frustration of it all—the heat, the noise, the incessant buzzing of your phone—was unbearable. you tugged your shirt over your head in one swift motion, tossing it aside carelessly. the relief was immediate, a cool sigh escaping your lips as the air touched your bare skin, soft and refreshing against your chest and stomach. finally, you could breathe again.

your eyes lazily drifted toward the television, where the characters of the drama you’d been half-watching continued their melodrama. you squinted, trying to make sense of the scene in front of you. childhood lovers, you thought silently as the drama played. it had been seven episodes of this nonsense, and still, bae seokryu hadn’t made a single smart decision. she’d ignored choi seunghyo’s confession, even though it was clear she felt the same way. it was infuriating. why was she still focused on that idiot ex of hers, hyeonjun? even after he cheated on her, she was running back to him like nothing happened.

“what a dumbass,” you muttered under your breath, watching as seokryu entered a restaurant with hyeonjun, leaving seunghyo to wallow in his unrequited love. her best friend is head over heels for her, and she’s this stupid? you thought to yourself. it didn’t make sense. seokryu should’ve stuck around to give seunghyo a chance, even after he broke up with taehui. but no. she was caught up in a ridiculous cycle of bad decisions, and for some reason, you couldn’t stop watching.

your irritation simmered, and you absentmindedly reached for a cigarette, bringing it to your lips. the flick of your lighter sounded like a small victory in the otherwise unbearable night. as the tip ignited and the smoke curled around your face, you took a long drag, savoring the brief distraction. the fogginess in your head felt a little more bearable with each inhale, even as the ringing of the doorbell cut through the haze.

at first, you barely registered it. the ringing was distant, muffled, as if it were happening in another world, far away from the sweltering heat of your living room. you exhaled, the smoke curling up toward the ceiling, and ignored it. but the doorbell persisted, ringing again and again, growing more insistent with each moment you delayed. with a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch, the annoyance already clear in your expression. whoever it was, they were about to get a piece of your mind. you half-feared it was yuta, come to beg for your forgiveness in person, thinking he could somehow charm his way back into your good graces. i could totally kick his ass, you thought, half-sober and full of misplaced confidence. your footsteps were heavy as you approached the door, hands fumbling with the lock as you prepared yourself for a confrontation.

but when the door finally swung open, your breath caught in your throat. it wasn’t yuta. mark stood there, panting, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a marathon. his skin was flushed, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, and his hair clung damply to his face. he looked wild, frantic, like he had raced through the night to get to you, his eyes wide with something you couldn’t quite place.

“took you long enough, loser,” you scoffed, leaning lazily against the doorframe. you took a slow drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke swirl around you before exhaling with an air of indifference. the coolness in your tone barely masked the simmering irritation beneath the surface, but you couldn’t help the hint of amusement that crept into your voice.

mark stood there, still panting, his breath catching awkwardly in his throat as his eyes darted up and down your form. he struggled to regain control of himself, but as his gaze swept over you, it was clear he had already lost the battle. your hair was tousled in the most effortlessly perfect way, the kind of messy that looked intentional, like you had just rolled out of bed with the weight of the world hanging loosely off your shoulders. the mascara you’d smudged hours ago only added to the ethereal haze that clung to you, darkening your eyes in a way that was both soft and dangerous. and your lips—wrapped around the cigarette filter—were plush, slightly swollen from too much biting. god, did he wish he could turn back time.

but it wasn’t just your face that had him flustered. you stood there in nothing but a bra and low-rise jeans, the sweltering heat having driven you to shed your shirt long before his arrival. his gaze betrayed him, flickering across your chest, taking in the way your bra clung to your skin, damp with sweat, the fabric looking too tight, threatening to give way at any second. the mounds of flesh pressed against the cups, straining at the edges, while the curve of your waist slid downward to meet the waistband of your jeans. the denim barely rested above your panties, but the hem was visible, teasing the line of skin that disappeared beneath the fabric.

he cursed himself silently, hating the way his body reacted to you, to this moment that wasn’t supposed to feel so charger. it was different now, and he didn’t know why. “i—” mark stammered, his words faltering as his throat seemed to dry up. his hands twitched at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching as if trying to force the words out. “i came as fast as i—” he stopped himself, rubbing his face in a desperate attempt to collect his thoughts. his eyes darted back to you, panic mingling with something else he refused to name. “jesus christ, put a shirt on. you’re so cheap.”

there it was, the weak joke he always used to diffuse tension. his voice came out half-joking, half-choked with something he wasn’t ready to admit, and as he dragged his palm over his face again, you could see the nervous energy in him, the way he tried to play it cool. you rolled your eyes, annoyed. “what a dick,” you muttered under your breath, the sound too low for him to hear, but the sentiment was loud and clear in your head. he’s no choi seunghyo, that’s for sure, you thought. “you’re such a little virgin,” you groaned in mock frustration, flicking the ash from your cigarette onto the ground. the insult rolled off your tongue easily, almost affectionate in the way it echoed years of knowing him. “we’ve taken baths together, dude. don’t make it weird.”

mark’s eyes widened slightly, stunned by the casual way you reminded him of that. baths—those innocent days when the world seemed so simple, when nothing about being close to you felt dangerous. but this? this was something else entirely. something that made the air between you feel thick, and it wasn’t just the heat of the summer night.

you turned on your heel, leaving the door open behind you as you walked back into the house, cigarette dangling lazily between your fingers. the weight of your words hung in the air, heavy and lingering, and mark stood frozen for a moment, caught between following you inside and grappling with the way everything suddenly felt different. you had shared so much before either of you even knew how to speak—but this? this was new. he wasn’t trying to make it weird, not consciously, but his body was betraying him with every stolen glance, every uneven breath. and for once, he couldn’t hide it.

mark stepped in hesitantly, trying to shake off the tension that clung to him like a second skin. he took in the living room, dimly lit, the remnants of a lazy afternoon sprawled across the space—empty bottles on the table, clothes strewn across the floor. a typical mess that felt like home. “i’ve got a hunch you’ll be an alcoholic in your forties,” he started, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, trying to find humor in the simmering heat between you both. “you’ll die with the company of red wine and twelve cats.”

you scoffed, settling back into the couch as you stubbed out your cigarette filter, the smirk on your face not fully hiding the playful annoyance in your voice. “dying with you nowhere in sight?” you mused. “sounds like a dream come true.” he could only respond with a half-hearted middle finger as he plopped down next to you. His body was tense, awkward, like he didn’t quite know how to sit in his own skin around you. your legs were folded beside him, your bare feet poking at his sides, testing him as he shifted nervously, eyes darting to the screen.

“dude, seunghyo’s such a dumbass,” he groaned, his focus pinned to the show. “i can’t believe it took him so long to confess. it was so obvious seokryu was into him.” you straightened yourself slightly, feeling the alcohol sway through your limbs, rocking you with a soft, fuzzy warmth. “i know, right?” you agreed, leaning forward as if the conversation might ease the strange pull between you both. “seokryu’s just as bad. she should’ve said something a while ago.”

as you spoke, your voice trailed off, and your eyes met his—just a beat too long. the moment stretched, dizzying, like the alcohol had gone straight to your head. you felt the weight of his gaze, the way it lingered on you in a way it never had before, and it made your heart flutter in your chest, made the air between you feel thick and heavy. you broke eye contact with a cough, a sudden need to escape, to move. “you want something to drink?” you asked, voice tight, needing the break in tension more than you cared to admit.

mark laughed nervously, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, betraying the nervous energy that was seeping into the room. “yeah, a beer will be fine.” you nodded quickly, eager to retreat to the kitchen. your hands were shaky as you grabbed the bottles, mind racing, replaying the look in his eyes. what was that? that flicker you saw—was it real? had you imagined it, or was it something more? your heart pounded in your chest, breath hitching as you leaned against the counter. you could blame it on the alcohol later, but part of you wanted to explore it now, just for a moment.

as you grabbed the beers and turned to head back, mark sat back on the couch, his eyes flickering to your phone on the table. the screen buzzed insistently, and curiosity got the best of him. without thinking, he reached for it, flipping it over to see a stream of messages from yuta, the name glaring back at him like a taunt. his jaw clenched, fingers tightening around the phone as more texts kept rolling in. “son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, blood boiling in his veins. his grip tightened until he heard your footsteps nearing, and he quickly set the phone back down, trying to act casual.

“who’d he cheat with?” he asked suddenly, the question spilling out before he could stop himself. his voice was sharp, edged with something darker than curiosity. “is she prettier than you?” you rolled your eyes, leaning over to place the bottle in front of him, the motion slow, deliberate. he noticed, no matter how hard he tried to look away, the sway of your hips, the way your breasts bounced with each step. it was almost like you were doing it on purpose, teasing him without even knowing it. or maybe you did know. maybe the alcohol was making you bold, making you play with fire.

no, mark thought, shaking his head slightly. she’s just tipsy. come on, dude. but then you leaned closer, and his breath caught in his throat. the way your bra clung to you, the fabric barely holding back your chest as you bent over—it was too much. your nipples were stiff, peeking out from the confines of the too-tight bra, and he couldn’t help but stare, his body betraying him. you noticed, of course you did. you bit back a smile, amusement dancing in your eyes as you sat back down beside him, the tension between you electric now. “yeah, she’s really hot. you’d like her,” you teased, taking a long sip from your own bottle, watching him squirm.

mark was halfway through his own beer before he could even think, trying to drown whatever the hell he was feeling. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice barely a whisper when he said, “i don’t think so.” you offered him a small, knowing smile, the kind that made his stomach flip, and then you kicked your legs over his knees, your feet resting in his lap. his whole body jolted, tensing under the weight of your touch. “you want a cig?” you asked, your voice soft, almost too casual. you’d never seen him nod faster.

your fingers moved deftly as you pulled out the cigarette, holding it between your thumb and forefinger, dangling it just inches from his reach. mark’s eyes flicked to yours, eager but wary, his smile faltering as you suddenly pulled it back.

“I have a trick,” you murmured, voice dropping to a hushed tone that made his breath hitch. you held the cigarette up between you both, your eyes locked onto his, glinting with mischief. “it’ll make it last longer.” it was the way you said it, the sudden dip in your voice that caught him off guard, made his heart pound a little harder in his chest. but what really did it was the trick. he watched, eyes widening as your tongue slid out, wetting the edge of the cigarette paper in slow, deliberate strokes. the tip of the paper darkened under your touch, the moisture staining it just enough.

was this some kind of joke? mark’s mind raced, trying to catch up with what was happening. did you pick this up off wikipedia, or were you just tormenting him on purpose? but it wasn’t just the act—it was the way you did it. your gaze was half-lidded, dark and sultry, never leaving his. you made sure he felt every second of it, the tension so thick he could barely breathe. your tongue traced the paper one last time before retreating back between your lips, leaving him frozen in place. and that was it. that was when he snapped.

the cigarette slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor, forgotten the moment he surged forward. his hands were on you before you could even react, rough, determined. his fingers wrapped around your wrists, pinning them above your head as he hovered over you, his knees pressing into your thighs, caging you in. your heart raced, breath shallow, your chest heaving as you stared up at him in shock. this wasn’t how you imagined it—no, it was better, wilder, more intense than you’d ever dared to dream.

“mark,” you managed to choke out, but he cut you off. “what are you doing?” he growled, his voice sharp, rough, almost angry as his eyes bore into yours. there was something dangerous in his gaze, something you couldn’t quite place, but it sent shivers down your spine. for a second, you thought he might be furious with you, and maybe part of him was. but then you felt it—the hardness pressing into your thigh, the undeniable evidence of his desire that made your eyes widen. he wasn’t angry. he was desperate.

“you walk around half-naked, tits out like a slut,” he spat, the venom in his words making your breath hitch, your pulse quicken. “did you do it on purpose? did you do it for me?” his voice was low, dangerous, each word laced with frustration and lust. your mind spun, the weight of his accusation making your stomach drop. “no, did you do it for yuta?”

the name made your skin crawl. yuta? the thought of doing anything like this for him was sickening. of course it wasn’t for him—it was always for mark. who else would it be for? “you,” you rasped out, your voice barely above a whisper. “for you.” the tension in mark’s body snapped. his hips jerked forward, pressing his bulge harder against your thigh, and he bit back a gasp, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. that was what he had been waiting for, what he needed to hear.

without another word, his lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce, all-consuming. you gasped against his mouth, but any protest you might have had was lost as his hands moved, roaming your body. his kiss was hungry, desperate, as though he’d been waiting forever for this moment, and finally, it was his. you kissed him back, just as eager, just as desperate, tasting the beer and cigarettes on his lips, mingled with something distinctly him. the sensation made your head spin, and you clung to him, your body arching into his, needing more.

his hands were everywhere at once, rough palms grazing over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. he grabbed at your bra, fingers tugging at the fabric impatiently, as though he couldn’t bear another second without feeling you. “fuck,” he muttered against your lips, pulling back just long enough to tear your shirt over your head, tossing it aside without a care. his hands moved immediately to your chest, cupping your tits through your bra, fingers squeezing greedily as he leaned back in, capturing your lips once more.

you moaned into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth as his fingers worked, fumbling with the clasp of your bra. It only took a moment before he had it undone, your boobs spilling free into his waiting hands. “god, you’re too fucking much,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your bare chest with unabashed hunger.

your skin flushed under his gaze, heat pooling between your legs as you watched him take you in. his eyes were wild, dark with desire, his breath coming in ragged pants as his hands continued their exploration. he pinched your nipples between his fingers, rolling them until you gasped, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “mark, please,” you whimpered, your voice shaky, your body trembling with need. he didn’t hesitate. his hands moved to your jeans, yanking them down your legs in one swift motion, the fabric pooling around your ankles as he knelt between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. you could feel his breath on your skin, hot and heavy, as he stared down at you, his hands spreading your thighs apart and gaze dropping to your sticky panties.

“all this for me?” he asked, his voice gruff, the question almost a demand. you bit your lip, nodding, unable to find the words to answer. you felt his hands at the band of your underwear, hooking his thumbs under the fabric, and then—oh god—his mouth was on you, tongue swiping through your folds, lapping up your arousal like a man starved.

you moaned, arching off the couch, your hips bucking against his face. his mouth was hot, his tongue rough, and you could feel his stubble grazing your sensitive skin in a way that had you arching into his mouth, adding to the sensation. he devoured you, his mouth working in a way that made your toes curl and your back bow. you’d never felt anything like this before—the raw, animalistic hunger of it all. it was like he couldn’t get enough, like he’d been waiting for this moment for years, and now that he had it, he was going to make it count.

his tongue found your clit, flicking and sucking with a skill that had you seeing stars. your nails dug into his scalp, your hips rolling to meet every stroke, begging for more. the room spun around you, the only anchor his mouth, his hands, the way he held you in place as he feasted on you. you could feel it building, that sweet pressure in your core, the tightness that signaled the start of something incredible.

his teeth grazed your clit, the bite of pain mixing with pleasure, sending you spiraling. “mark, i’m gonna cum,” you panted, your voice high and breathless. he growled against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your body, his tongue pressing harder, pushing you closer to the edge. and then, with a final, frenzied flick, you were over the edge, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

you collapsed back onto the couch, breathless, your chest heaving as he pulled away, a smug smile playing on his lips. your eyes fluttered open to meet his, dark with satisfaction, and you couldn’t help but laugh, the tension between you shattering into a million pieces. “you’re such an asshole,” you whispered, though you couldn’t keep the fondness out of your voice. his smile grew, turning sweet, and he leaned back in, kissing you softly. “but you like it,” he murmured, his hand tracing lazy circles on your stomach. you couldn’t argue with that. you liked it. you liked it a lot. but there was still that nagging doubt in the back of your mind—what now? what did this mean for the two of you?

he stood, his eyes never leaving yours as he undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and shoved them down. his cock sprang free, thick and hard, and you felt your mouth go dry at the sight of it. you’d seen him naked before, of course, in passing, in the locker room after gym class, but never like this. never with the intention of having him inside you.

he stepped closer, his hand guiding his dick to your dripping pussy. “you’re soaked, shit,” he murmured, his voice thick with lust. and you were. so wet, so ready. he pushed into you, inch by slow inch, the stretch delicious and almost painful. you gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist, holding him close. he felt so big, so much bigger than anyone you’d ever been with. you could feel him in your stomach, filling you up in a way that made you feel complete.

his hands slid up your body, gripping your thighs tightly as he began to move, his thrusts deep and powerful. the couch groaned under your combined weight, the sound echoing through the room, mixing with your gasps and his grunts. his cock hit your g-spot with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. your eyes rolled back in your head, your body moving in time with his, the friction building, your core tightening around him. his mouth found your neck, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a trail of fire as he sucked and bit. your nails scored down his back, leaving marks as his stubble pricked at your neck in a way that had you dripping.

his hands roamed, squeezing your tits, pinching your nipples, making you squirm and whine. the sensation was almost too much, but you didn’t want it to stop. you could feel him getting closer, his movements growing more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants. “i’m gonna cum, baby,” he groaned, his voice strained. “i’m gonna ruin your pussy.” and you were so close, so fucking close. you wrapped your legs around him tighter, urging him on, your body begging for release.

suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you gasping, your pussy pulsing around the emptiness. before you could protest, he spun you around, pushing you face down into the couch cushions. his hand smacked your ass, the sound echoing through the room, making you jump. “keep up with me, i have an idea,” you weren’t too sure of what he meant, you were too lost, desperate to have him back inaide of you. you felt him move around, his rock hard tip pressing against your ass as he retrieved your phone from the table. you didn’t register it until he leaned forward, his cock grazing your cunt once more as he gestured to your phone in his hand. you tried to make out what he was doing, turning your head to see him scrolling with a scoff. “what a fucking pussy,” he wasn’t talking about you, he was talking about yuta.

you didn’t get a chance to speak, to protest, he had slid upwards, kickstarting the voice recording and planting your phone beside your ear. your eyes widened at the realization—he was sick, he was twisted for wanting yuta to hear what he was doing to you, just hours after your break-up. you were sick for wanting it even more.

his cock slammed into your pussy again, and you moaned, the sound captured by the phone’s microphone. “is this all for me, baby?” he grunted, his hips slamming into yours as he pulled at your hips to meet his thrusts, the couch squeaking beneath you. you couldn’t help but bite your lip, your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overwhelmed you. the thought of yuta listening to this was fucked up, but it only made you wetter, made you want to scream louder. his strokes grew faster, more erratic, and you felt his hand snake around your waist, his thumb finding your clit and circling it with precision. “tell him how much you love this, tell him how much better i am than he ever was,” he panted, accentuating each word with a thrust.

you whimpered, the heat of his breath against your neck making you shiver. “mark, oh my god, it’s so good,” you moaned, the words spilling from your lips, the truth in your voice unmistakable. “better than yuta?” he prompted, his voice a dark whisper. “yes, so much better,” you gasped, the truth slipping out, lost in the haze of pleasure. his hand tightened on your hip, his strokes becoming more demanding. “that’s right,” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower. “tell him who this pussy belongs to.”

you felt your face flush, the his words turning you on more than you cared to admit. “it’s yours, mark,” you whispered, the words barely audible. “say it louder, baby. tell him who you really want.” he smacked your ass again, the sting mixing with the pleasure, making you squirm. “it’s yours, mark, all fucking yours,” you cried out, the sound echoing in the quiet room. his grip tightened, his thrusts becoming more punishing, each one sending you spiraling closer to the edge. his hand moved from your hip to your mouth, his thumb pressing against your lips, and you opened, letting him slide it in.

his thumb moved in and out, mimicking the motion of his cock, the taste of your own juices mixing with the salty tang of his skin. “tell him how much you want my cum in you, baby. tell him how much you need it,” he demanded, his voice harsh, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. you felt your stomach clench at the thought, but the words tumbled out, unbidden. “i want it, i need it,” you moaned, your voice thick with desire. “send it to him,” you breathed, the thrill of the idea making you wetter. mark’s eyes lit up with excitement, and he reached for your phone, pausing before sending the message with a smug smirk.

the room was spinning, the pleasure building, your body tightening around him like a vice. he leaned in closer, his hand moving to your clit, rubbing it in firm circles as he whispered, “cum for me, baby. let me hear how much you love it.” and with that, you were gone, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, your pussy spasming around his thick cock. he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut, and you felt the warmth of his cum fill you up, the sensation sending you over the edge once more.

you collapsed onto the couch, your body boneless, as he pulled out, the sound of his seed dripping onto the floor making you shiver. your cheeks were flushed, your pussy sore and sticky, but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. mark stood, looking down at you with a smug look, his cock still hard, glistening with your juices. “that’s what happens when you don’t get what you want, isn’t it?” he said, his voice still thick with lust. “you go running to the first person that shows you some attention.”

his words stung, but you didn’t have the energy to argue. you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with yuta’s panicked texts. the audio message had gone through, and his responses were no less than mortified. “you really think i did this just to use you?” you asked quietly as you set your phone down, your heart sinking at the thought of him thinking so little of you, of himself.

mark’s expression softened, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. “i didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice tender. “i just—i’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, i wanted to make sure he knew—knows—what he’s missing out on.” his thumb traced your cheekbone, his eyes searching yours. “and what about us?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. “are we just gonna ignore this?”

you took a deep breath, the weight of his question settling heavily on your chest. the silence between you was deafening, the only sound the faint buzz of the television and the distant hum of the barely functioning air conditioner. you didn’t know what to say, but you knew exactly what was in your heart. “i’ve liked you for too long, you asshole,” you whispered, trying to mask the tension with all your might.

mark’s hand stilled on your face, his eyes searching yours in the reflection of the television. “you idiot,” he murmured, his voice soft with unspoken emotion waiting to pour out. “i’ve liked you even longer, i can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

his confession was like a balm to your soul, soothing the raw edges of your heart. “i didn’t think you felt the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. the weight of your feelings had been heavy on your shoulders for years, and finally, they were out in the open.

he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his eyes closing briefly. “i’ve liked you since we were kids, but i didn’t know how to tell you without ruining our friendship,” he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “i didn’t want to lose you, so i just hoped you’d eventually figure it out. but then you started dating yuta—” his voice trailed off, his jaw tightening at the mention of your his name.

you nodded, fully aware of the pain behind his words, the same pain he had kept hidden from you for so long. you’d been so caught up in the drama of it all, you hadn’t noticed the subtle ways he’d tried to show you how he felt. the way his eyes lit up when you walked into a room, the gentle touches that lingered just a little too long, the way he’d always been there for you, no matter what. “i really like you, mark,” his grin was unmistakeable, his eyes crinkling in such a soft manner, as if he hadn’t just fucked you. “i really like you, too.” it was everything you had dreamed of, finally coming true.

✧

a/n: this took longer to write than anticipated sorry omg

HI omg mutuals w THE keehomania !?!?!? crying pissing throwing myself against the wall and stuff

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