SUMMARY: he's the worst person for you but you keep coming back to him, night after night, desperately hoping that he will love you back after more time spent in your arms
THANK YOU: sorry to @strwbrysunday who I definitely broke with this :) ilyyyyyy
WARNINGS: explicit smut, weed smoking, profanity, emotional manipulation, heavy angst, mark is not a very nice guy in this (sorry)
PLAYLIST: Grenade by Bruno Mars, Love on the Floor by NCT 127, Faster by NCT 127, 2 Baddies by NCT 127
This was very much inspired by a Love on the Floor fancam, particularly minute 3:20. Enjoy.
Tell the devil I say hey when you get back to where you're from
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It’s raining softly and big droplets are falling off the awning of his front step as you furiously send another text to this asshole who better not have fallen asleep in the five minutes it took you to drive over. You look up to the leaking sky just as a particularly large droplet hits your forehead, dripping down your eyebrow and into your eye. He told you not to knock, as he always did, because he thinks Johnny looked at you a little too long that one time he answered the door before Mark could run down the stairs. You might not be his but that didn’t mean someone else could have you.
The door suddenly swings open and he’s standing there, baggy black sweatpants hanging low and a crisp white tee hanging perfectly on his broad shoulders. He has a smug smile on his face as he leans against the door jam, sleeve riding up on his arm to show his nearly completed half sleeve of dark ink. His shirt peaks up too, showing skin on his hip and the Supreme logo at the band of his boxers.
“I’m getting soaked out here, bitch,” you mumble as you push past him harshly, stepping out of your shoes and hanging your jacket on the hook you always use. There’s something weirdly domestic about draping it over Mark’s leather jacket he wears when he takes his motorcycle to work.
He rolls his eyes at you and ruffles the longer black strands of hair in his eyes before turning without another look at you to walk up the stairs. He takes two at a time and you get the first (but not last of tonight) look at the reason you’re here - his deliciously thick ass.
He flops down on his bed and is scrolling through his phone, head propped up against his headboard and one leg up on his thin comforter. His shirt is hiked up on his waist and his tight ab muscles are on display as he draws lazy circles over his stomach with his other hand.
Turning away from him, you drop your hands to your waist, pulling your oversized hoodie over your head, leaving you standing in your leggings and cotton bralette. You move some stuff on his desk to put your bag down, taking a swig from your water bottle before approaching the bed slowly. The door is cracked open, another habit you’ve noticed from him in the times you’ve visited the house. He liked to have an audience, if only to just hear Jaehyun comment how good you look naked later or witness the awkward moment when you locked eyes with a nervous Jeno as he used their shared bathroom in the hallway while Mark pounds into you in doggy style.
If someone had told you six months ago that you would be desperately driving over to spend the night with the rude but incredibly hot cashier at your local gas station, you would have laughed in their face. You first met when he had helped you with the finicky air pump for your tires one afternoon after work, bending down to unscrew the caps and giving you an unreal view of his tight pants. The band of his boxers rose up high on his slim waist and his round ass cheeks were prominent under the denim, straining at the plush muscle. You had felt your cheeks heat in the moment, a loud gulp building in your throat as you forced yourself to look elsewhere.
He had let you take the gum you were buying for free and grabbed your phone when you reached under the plexiglass, adding himself as “M” and handing it back with a devious smirk.
Later that night you were moaning his name loudly in the backseat of your car after he asked you to pick him up from a bar downtown. You knew you were done for when he shoved his slender fingers, covered in your own arousal, into your mouth, swirling them around and almost making you gag as he brushed the roof of your mouth with the pads of his fingertips. Yeah, this guy was going to be a really big problem.
Everything was on Mark’s terms, especially when it came to getting off. Edging was his middle name and he rarely let you have multiple orgasms in one night. He was rough, dragging you down to your knees by the back of your neck, kneading your skin harshly as he pushed his cock deeper into your mouth.
He especially tortured you when it came to touching your favorite part of his body. He knew you were obsessed with his full and perky ass, feeling your eyes on him every time he walked away from you. Sometimes he would even walk backwards with a huge grin on his face and a shake of his head.
On the rare occasion he would be relentlessly railing into you in missionary, you would feel your hands instinctively come up to grope him and he would pin your arms down, harshly grunting out, “Only good girls get rewarded with cake.”
Tonight is nothing different, he’s actively ignoring you with just a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to the crotch of the thin athletic fabric clinging to your legs. He’s tracing what feels to be an infinity symbol and you can feel goosebumps start to prick up on your arms. You chalk it up to being shirtless in the cool, stale air of his bedroom rather than any sort of physical (emotional? fuck.) response to his touch.
You take a long drag from your dab pen before tossing it on the table next to the bed, feeling him shift as he finally sets his phone down.
Without any words he leans over, mouthing at your bare shoulder before stretching his arm out to steal a hit from your pen and letting it carelessly drop to the floor. You sigh and push your hand aggressively into his sweats, finding him half hard and a damp spot on the front of the material covering his cock. So he was horny. Of course he was.
He continues to kiss down your neck, dragging his teeth against the thin strap of your bra, moving it out of the way to kiss underneath. You moan lightly at this, pushing your voice to make a little more noise than it naturally did for effect, refusing to let him have the satisfaction of hearing the sounds he actually produced from his touches.
He doesn’t kiss you on the lips much anymore, despite having made out with you for hours at a time when you had first started hooking up. Granted, there isn’t much of an opportunity for you to lock lips with him as his fingers are usually shoved in your mouth as his other hand slaps your exposed pussy or his full palm covering the lower half of your face, restricting your breathing.
A few minutes later he’s between your legs, mercilessly flicking his tongue against your embarrassingly wet folds, gripping your thighs tightly while you rut against his face, desperate for more friction.
You don’t know if it’s the rain or the fact that he definitely bought the same body wash you have in your shower and you can smell it radiating off him, but you want to kiss him so bad even as he’s going to town on your clit, almost as if he’s trying to overstimulate you before you’ve even had a chance to feel him inside you. You rip him up by his hair and drag his face to meet yours and he’s crawling eagerly over you, crowding you as he slips a knee between your spread legs.
“Yes?” he half groans, half sings in a low timbre, dark eyes darting between yours wildly, looking for an explanation to why you stopped him from eating you out.
“Stop edging me,” you state bluntly, sliding a hand down to cover his ass cheek, squeezing gently at first as you instinctively arch your back slightly and bring your lips closer to him.
“Aw, that’s cute, you think you deserve a kiss,” he replies back in a cruel tone, almost laughing at your desperation.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” he adds, firmly removing your hand from his bare skin and trapping it between your chests where you’re sure he can feel your heart beating fast under your breast.
Despite everything and because of everything, you find yourself irrevocably in love with him. You hate every fibre of his being but would do anything to have him hold you in his arms tenderly like the couples you see wrapped in a back hug on the subway. You would pay any amount of money to have him circle his thumbs over the hem of your t-shirt, digging his chin into your shoulder while reading your book over your shoulder and murmuring parts of sentences out loud.
He knows this, he’s not stupid. He sees the way you look at him after you come all over his hand or mouth or cock. He sees the way you look at him when you think he’s not paying attention, eyes dragging across his features before settling on his big brown eyes. He watches as your eyes drift to fantasies of the two of you together on the off chance you share a meal or drink in his kitchen. You instinctively clear his cereal bowl and take the crumpled napkin directly from his hand, letting your hand drag up his bicep as you walk to the trash can.
Because of this, he will leave you on read for days at a time, knowing you are losing your mind and only checks your Instagram story from a burner account because he knows you check that shit religiously. He knows that hearing you moan out his name and clench around his achingly hard cock once he finally hits you up will make it all worth it.
He doesn’t want a relationship, he never has, and truly believes he never will. The scars on his knees and the way his eyes glaze over when he’s super high tell so much more than he could ever say out loud. Commitment was never in the cards for him and he knew from the first time he saw you that you would fall for him easily. It’s why he had quickly put his number in your phone and called you later that night for a ride he didn’t actually need. He had trapped you from that very first moment and spent each day since then manipulating you into falling more and more in love with him.
It was cruel and your friends that knew your dirty secret chastised you about it frequently, but something about his dark hair, lean muscles and dark ink covering large swaths of his body kept you coming back for more. The way he never says your name during sex, despite you moaning every variation of his, combined with his terrible after care are all the biggest red flags you’ve ever seen, but you can’t stop.
You’ve seen glimpses of the softer side of him, the human side of him. His voice would pitch up when he got excited about an expensive car parked in the street or when his favorite Spongebob episode queued up next on his small laptop monitor you were sharing. One time a small kitten was hidden under the hood of a car in the parking lot of the gas station in the dead of winter and while he never admitted it, you know he took it home that night to help it warm up before letting Jaemin pick it up a few days later to take to his apartment with his growing cat family.
Then there’s the moments of confusion that help feed your delusional fantasies that the two of you could actually work. He will occasionally show up at your work, shamelessly flirting with the front office lady, moving her pen cup around her desk and twirling the cord of her desk phone around his long and slender finger while leaning down to speak in a loud whisper.
Once he showed up wearing a white tank top you swear you recognized as Johnny’s and his leather jacket had slipped off his shoulders and everyone was ogling him as they walked by. You marched to the front and barked his name to get him to follow you back to your cubicle where he leant seductively against your desk, crossing his arms across his broad chest.
“What’s wrong? Jealous, sweetheart?” he purrs under his breath as you sat down on your uncomfortable desk chair with an eye roll. You shuffle a couple papers and bang them aggressively against your desk before holding your hand out for the binder clip he was fiddling with, clamping it repeatedly on his fingertip.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” came Hyuck’s voice loudly from the next cubicle over, causing Mark to cackle, feign a look of fear and clutch his chest dramatically.
“Donghyuck,” you hiss, eyes darting to your boss’s open office door, her eyes peering inquisitively at the loud laughter.
“This is a place of work, where you know, people with jobs work,” Hyuck continues, tapping loudly on his keyboard on a blank document that you know isn’t actually a work assignment.
“Mark, you should go,” you say quietly, feeling embarrassed at how your cheeks are heating at the interaction. You can feel Hyuck’s gaze on your back and don’t need to turn around to know how disappointed he is.
You move to stand before a hand is on your shoulder, pushing you gently back into your chair. Mark places his other hand on the arm of your chair, caging you in as he brushes his knee against yours to step between them. He dips down, pushing your long hair from the side of your face and brushes his lips gently right at the corner of your eye, moving his lips to your ears to speak softly to you.
“You know he wants to fuck the shit out of you, right?” he teases, letting his teeth graze against the shell of your ear, eliciting a quiet whimper from your lips.
“I bet he wouldn’t even satisfy you though, my little whore likes to be bruised up when the night is over,” he continues, hand moving achingly slow to your lap and toying with the hem of your short dress. At this moment you desperately wish you had worn pants today but your heart is pounding so hard you can barely focus.
You gulp loudly, wanting to scold him for making a scene in your office, but your mouth is bone dry. Hyuck clears his throat loudly from behind you, the typing on his computer having stopped completely and you know he is sitting wide-eyed staring at the two of you.
“Maybe a nice boy like that is what you really want though,” he finished, hand getting dangerously close to your soaked underwear before he’s suddenly leaning back against your cubicle again and you’re left with laboured breathing and a red face.
“See ya, Hyuckie,” he sings before turning on his heel, tossing his leather jacket over his shoulder, putting an extra bounce in his steps knowing everyone’s eyes (and especially yours) are watching his ass jiggle with each movement.
“I fucking hate that guy,” Hyuck mutters under his breath as you turn to give him a look, shaking your head with a deadpan look on your face. Hyuck’s face is flushed and when he stands to move to the copy machine, you swear you can see him half-hard in his pants.
“Yeah, you and me both,” you mutter under your breath as you return to your computer, seeing a message in the corner of your screen from your noisiest coworker, asking if Mark is single. You fire off that he’s not available, and definitely not to date them before pushing away from your desk angrily and practically stomping to the coffee machine in the back of the office.
You loudly manoeuvre the machine, inserting your favorite roast and preparing your cup with sugar and a little creamer. Your core is still throbbing and you try to think of anything that will distract you from the filthy thoughts flying through your mind, images of Mark pushing you up against the shelves of the supply closet with rolls of paper towels crashing down around you as he pounds into you.
You’re pulled back to the present as he suddenly slides into you without warning, not having heard him pull away from you at the edge of the bed to slide on a condom or remove his clothes.
He towers over you for a moment before dropping to his elbows in a smooth motion, arching his back to thrust up into you, gripping the small of your back to lift your ass off the bed, his hips colliding with yours with each thrust.
You feel your eyes roll back at the feeling of him pounding into your g spot and can’t help the incoherent ramblings that tumble from your now chapped lips. You drop your tongue down to wet them, accidentally making eye contact with him as you do. The look in his eyes shifts briefly as you feel yourself clench around his cock, rolling your hips as a particularly whiny moan erupts in your throat.
Before you can move again, he dips down, capturing your lips in his, causing your breath to catch in your chest in surprise. You barely have a chance to close your eyes and notice his eyes are wide open as he kisses you, a blank look held there, without an ounce of intimacy or lust.
You pull your eyes shut at this severe red flag as you angle your head to deepen the kiss, reaching up to brush your fingertips against the buzzed hair at the back of his head. He lets your tongue push into his mouth and warmly caress his while he grips your ass, leaving handprints. You know this moment won’t last and you know it will be weeks before his lips even brush yours again so you try to burn the feeling into your memory.
The push and pull, the struggle for power and the upper hand - it’s something you dread but equally something you crave. You’ve found something dangerous and evil in Mark Lee and you’re playing with fire every moment you open your legs and heart to him. But you can’t stop yourself and he knows that you would do anything for him at this point. He has you right where he wants you and you willingly let him take every shred of dignity you once had. You’re a desperate, horny, moth drawn to the flame.
That is, if the flame drove a souped up two seater and had a bubble butt.
haha just when I finally get back in the mood to write, people on here make me not want to. not sure why everyone is so hypercritical of stuff, it’s just fanfiction yall. not every fic is for everyone or to everyone’s taste, I scroll past a bunch of stuff I don’t want to read. anyways, feeling uninspired again so bye bye for now xx
SUMMARY: dating a hot actor is great and all, until you find some texts on his phone that make you wonder if he's really the man of your dreams
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm back after another unplanned hiatus. Even when I'm not posting here, I'm always thinking about writing things and wanting to share more. I have written a couple things for Ao3 so those will be up there soon. As usual, Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself has ruined me again with his new song and video to the point where I sat down and wrote this in one sitting and never looked back. More from me soon, I promise xx
WARNINGS: established relationship, domestic fluff, explicit smut, swearing
PLAYLIST: Unconditional by Jaehyun, Smoke by Jaehyun, Birthday by Ten, Honey by John Legend
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“I just don’t believe you Jae! Do you think I’m stupid?”
Your cheeks are burning red and you know your chest is splotchy as your temperature rises, heart pounding. Ever since you were a kid, your skin would turn bright red the moment you started to get agitated, making you a terrible poker player and never one to even try to lie to anyone. It was one of things that endeared you to Jaehyun immediately, his bright red ears the moment someone teased him or he felt embarrassed.
“Baby, baby,” he starts, groggily reaching a large hand to you from the mountain of pillows and plush white sheets. His hair is still pushed back in that stupid plastic headband he fell asleep wearing the night before, making it hard to take him seriously in the heat of the moment.
You wipe a single tear from your eye before it can slip down your cheek and turn away from him, throwing his phone onto the covers with more strength than you thought you had in the moment.
Dating a famous actor who spends most of his time at premieres in Seoul and on movie sets around the world wasn’t easy. You had turned Jaehyun down the first few times he slid up on your Instagram stories, a mutual stylist friend having introduced you at a small birthday dinner you both were invited to.
Grabbing his phone off the nightstand instead of yours this morning had sent you into a spiral, shaking him awake in the bed to ask for an explanation about why he’s messaging someone about a “gorgeous girl named Honey” and how he “can’t wait to spoil her the way she deserves.”
“We’ve been together for a year and now you’re going to start cheating on me? Really original, Jeong.”
Your eyes roll back into your sockets and you scoop all your long, curly hair onto the top of your head, pulling running shorts and socks from the dresser near the window as you continue to grill him.
Jaehyun sits up fully, the comforter slipping off his shoulders and exposing his bare, chiselled chest. He’s still pale from having spent the whole winter filming in Canada, not having had enough trips to the nearby beach to have his adorable freckles reappear on his cheeks. His hair is bright white, platinum, and long in the back, soft in the morning light streaming in the floor to ceiling windows.
“You know I went out with Mingyu last week to that Dior party and he said if I ever wanted it to be a real date, just say the word and he would drop everything and everyone.”
“Dior? You wound me,” Jaehyun replies, mockingly rubbing his pec as he rolls his eyes. You know how much the statement had to hurt him, he always had been worried about your closeness to his friend Mingyu (and Mingyu’s long wavy hair, sparkly eyes, and massive biceps), even if he lets that go unsaid now.
“I’m going for a run and when I get back, I really hope you’ve managed to get up, shower, and figure out how you’re going to tell your PR team about this, unless they are all in on it too,” you finish, wobbling near the foot of the bed as you try to put your socks on while standing.
A firm hand is on your wrist, instantly balancing you. You look up to meet Jaehyun’s eyes, soft and glittering and sending you back to the first time you ever met.
“Who needs the candy, you look sweet enough to eat,” he had practically purred in your ear, pressing a hand between your thighs, under the silky material of your Vivienne Westwood skirt in a private booth in the back a dark room, surrounded by tall crystal jars of sweets.
Your marketing executive job had your team planning events for high end clients on a regular basis but this event had been extra special as your best friend had finally launched her own luxury cosmetics brand. The event was a mix of rich pops of red, velvety cushions and extravagant accessories, diamond necklaces draped across necks of models with artistic and bold eye looks. You had spared no expense for your friend and your assistant had the mountains of receipts to prove it.
The guest list was no exception, you had made sure every A-list name had received an invite and hundreds of attractive and trendy faces from fashion and entertainment filled the event space. That included Seoul’s hottest star, known for his striking and stoic look and deep, rich voice.
“You are not using that as an opening line on me,” you had sighed, trying to push down the moan bubbling up in your throat as long fingers toyed with lace dangerously close to slipping out of place.
“Technically, I asked you if the brownies had tree nuts because my body guard is allergic,” he quipped back, thumb brushing over you with intention.
You had bit your lip in frustration and swatted his hand away, grabbing his phone from his coat pocket and giving him your number, insisting that he had to reach out first because you were busy with a “real job”. He had laughed, sucking his now wet thumb into his mouth and letting it slide out with a loud popping noise and a simple “Yes, ma’am”.
That same phone was now in his hand a little under a year later, his fingers moving quickly against the glass screen.
“You don’t have anything to say?” you ask in shock and before you can say another word, your doorbell is chiming and he’s up from the bed and down your hallway, wearing nothing but his stupid boxers with lemons on them.
You roll your eyes and move to your large kitchen for a glass for water, almost letting it slip from your hands as he places a large Prada shopping bag on the marble island.
“A bag? A fucking purse is supposed to make me forgive you? How did you even get that this fast?”
“Baby, just look inside and it will explain everything,” he speaks calmly, sliding the bag carefully closer to you.
You untie the ribbon holding it loosely closed and you think you’re losing your mind when you see the bag move on its own. As soon as the thick paper opens, a tiny brown and curly head of fur appears. Neatly groomed ears are shaking and a tiny black Prada collar is clasped around the neck of the puppy.
“A dog?!” you exclaim in disbelief. The puppy lets out a small but high pitched bark, demanding to be let out of the bag with a fluffy paw nudging your hand.
“A chocolate French poodle puppy,” Jaehyun corrects, moving behind you and wrapping his arms around you, pressing his bare chest into your back. He lifts the puppy from the bag and places her into your waiting arms, the puppy taking no time at all to snuggle into your neck.
“Her name is Honey,” he tells you and you can practically feel his smile from the way he speaks.
“Honey…” you repeat. The dog’s eyes are wide in curiosity, head tilting to the side as she appears to recognize her name.
“Yeah, baby?” he jokes back, pressing warm lips to the short hairs at your hairline. You can tell he thinks he’s funny for that joke and you don’t need to turn to see what kind of look is in his eye. He trails his mouth to your ear, nudging the metal hoops along the shell and kissing the “14” ink at the skin behind your ear.
Your mouth is suddenly so dry that you can’t speak so you simply turn in his arms, letting Honey drop to the floor and bound excitedly on your slippery floors.
“How long had you been planning this surprise for me to just ruin it with my paranoia?” you murmur against his forehead, pressing a tender kiss to smooth skin.
“A couple months, I was just trying to find the perfect puppy for us,” he replies, fingers drawing circles on the bare skin exposed between your sports bra and shorts.
“I’m so sorry,” you reply, feeling embarrassment heat up your cheeks and sweat start to prick at your hairline.
“Don’t be,” he smiles back with his million watt smile that landed him his first commercial at eight years old, plucked from his class trip to a theme park by a talent scout.
“You know how I feel about you, nothing is going to change that. Not even if you go on 127 million dates with Kim Mingyu,” he finishes, sealing his lips over yours.
You open your lips and greedily press your tongue behind his annoyingly perfect teeth, lifting your fingers up to tug at the hair almost touching his shoulders.
“God,” Jaehyun growls in between kisses, grabbing at your ass to hoist you up on the counter, tugging roughly at your shorts to push them down to your ankles and ripping your legs open.
You’re panting, resting back on your wrists as he holds your knees open and presses wet kisses to your inner thighs. His energy is wild and chaotic, exactly as you’ve always expected from him and your mind is starting to go to that numb place it always goes when gets his tongue on you.
You arch your back in pleasure, letting moans tumble from your lips freely, trying desperately to ignore the adorable face now perched on your couch, eyes curious but also dozing off from exerting energy after running the full length of your penthouse.
You let your eyes fall to the rolling waves out the window, morning sun blinding you and forcing you to look down at the bobbing head of the blonde man between your legs. He meets your gaze with sparkling eyes and drops a kiss to his self proclaimed favorite tattoo of yours, a small rose on your hip bone. You smile softly at him before shrieking and almost crushing his head with your thighs when he takes sharp canines to the spot, almost drawing blood.
He jumps up and starts running towards your bedroom, scooping a startled Honey off the back of the couch and holding her in front of him he runs backwards.
“Jaehyun, you cannot use our child as a shield!” you yell, almost slipping in your socks as you bound after him.
When you round the corner, you slam into his bare chest, standing at the foot of the bed. Honey is curled up on the same pillow Jaehyun had tucked under his arm as he slept, already dozing again.
“Our child? I like the sound of that,” he says seriously, his voice velvety and tempting. His hands are at your waist again and you are having a hard time thinking straight.
“Calm down there, mister,” you chuckle, pushing him back to sit on the edge of the bed and dropping to your knees in between his open legs.
“Let’s see how you do with this dog first,” you mutter, hands pushing down his boxers easily to take his hardened length between experienced fingers.
He smiles with his whole face at your words, eyes crinkling up in the corners and shoulders shaking a bit as you move your mouth over smooth skin, letting his soft moans fill the room and calm your racing heart.
