author's note: can be read as a standalone! but also as an instalment for like we just met !! i miss mark so much i just had to work on something so i wouldn't go insane </3 and then he updated!!!!!! and i FELT insane!! if you know me you already know that i love this man so much — meelings (mark feelings) are open, so feel free to discuss anything mark related with me <3 not proofread (yet).
It bothers you. Like a full pot ready to boil over, you’re about to lose your temper. A whole day spent rotting in bed and your boyfriend, Mark, has not spared you a glance — or a touch, for that matter.
His eyes have been glued to the book in his hands, and it really didn’t matter if he was on the toilet or in the kitchen preparing a cup of tea for the two of you. No, it didn’t matter. Mark kept his eyes glued to the pages of the despicable book that had become your enemy, and it felt like you weren’t even there.
Reading is an activity you enjoy doing in silence while still being in each other’s company. So many days and nights the two of you have spent talking about what you just finished reading, about theories, about the essays you were going to write about said books.
There’s this rule between you two — you split the semester’s reading list in half, with you and Mark deciding who gets to read whatever title is on the weekly syllabus. And because he’s a gentleman, and because he loves you, your boyfriend always lets you choose first — and maybe he reads the one you chose as well, if he has the time. If not, he’ll just stick to all the details you give him.
And that’s how your Sunday started. Standing in your boyfriend’s kitchen, and writing down some bullet points so you could remember everything you needed to explain about your book. Mark didn’t waste time talking to you during breakfast, while he ate the eggs you prepared for him — for which he asked so nicely, if maybe you could make them for him — with his eyes glued to the thick book in his hands while he chewed on his bite.
After spending yesterday’s morning out at the flea market, searching for the two books on your reading list for the upcoming week, Mark spent the rest of the day sleeping while you read the book you chose. So when he found out you had already finished it, he started panicking looking at the thickness of his, and blocked your voice out and away from him, even if you were trying to reassure him that he still had until next Friday to finish it.
But Mark has always been an overachiever, a stubborn perfectionist, so he refused to put the book down, promising you a detailed summary of the book by the end of Monday afternoon’s seminars you two shared.
A whole day spent on the couch writing, or in bed trying to take naps next to your boyfriend — whose eyes kept being glued to the book, of course.
And who cares about that stupid book, anyway? It’s not like you have to read every single piece of the syllabus every single time, you can skip one once in a while — or more frequently, like all your classmates do. But Mark is probably the only person in your course that takes it seriously, does his coursework on time, reads, writes projects that are not necessarily related to your course, all while still taking you out on dates, spending time with you, enjoying his hobbies, and going to work.
Still, with the thought of the many more days ahead, during which he can read this monstrosity of a book, you try to distract him. You want his attention, you want to take naps with him, you want to enjoy your time in his apartment, just the two of you.
“What is it, baby?” He mumbled each time, not even looking at you, and you knew he wasn’t even paying attention if you answered or not.
You played with the waistband of his pyjama shorts, you pulled at his t-shirt sleeve, you playfully bit his bicep while he put his hand under his head searching for a more comfortable position to lie down in. But it all went unnoticed.
You wanted to snatch the book and beat him with it. You wanted to make him chew the pages because he ignored you. You wanted to kiss him every time his lips moved while mumbling and then gasping outraged at something going on in that damned book. You wanted to cover his face in kisses every time he hissed at you when he finally registered your actions and ministrations on his body — arms, torso, neck.
Eventually, you gave up. You took naps, you started lining down the plot of the screenplay you had to write and submit by the end of the semester, you listened to music and you doom scrolled on tiktok while sending every other video to him so he could check them later. And all you could hear was him breathing peacefully by your side, the rustling of pages, or him mumbling in a sweet habit he doesn’t know he has — when he’s too concentrated and into his own world he starts mumbling the words he’s reading or writing down. And you wanted to kiss him desperately.
But he hits you with the usual “Baby wait just a bit longer, this’s an important part right now!” Swaying your hands away from him, sometimes allowing you to stick to him but he doesn’t register your motions, because he doesn’t reciprocate.
Mark can barely keep his hands off you — that is when he’s not too busy reading fucking Ulysses, so you knew he was too deep into that book.
You wanted to set that book on fire.
So by the time the sun started setting outside, and knowing that Mark promised you’ll order some food tonight instead of cooking or going out, you decide to peel yourself off his bed and go have a shower. Not that you think he’ll miss you — or notice you’re gone, for that matter.
So you take your sweet time, because you bet you’ll still find him lying down on his back, the way you just left him. With no excuse of tearing him away from that damned book, no excuse for dinner, or anything else really, you wonder what else you can do to get his attention on you.
You even use your shower gel, the vanilla scented one he loves so much on you, and you even discarded of your towel before exiting the bathroom.
And just how you suspected, your boyfriend hasn’t moved an inch. He just brought a leg up, and seemingly also brought the book closer to his face.
You sigh, walking towards the bed, turning on the lamp on top the impromptu bedside table he has on the outer side of his bed, noticing he’s squinting his eyes even if he’s wearing his glasses.
“Thanks baby,” he mumbles, not sparing you a look. Because, if only he spared you a look, he’d be throwing the book away and out the window.
You don’t bother answering him, knowing too well that he’s not listening. You walk towards his dresser, opening a few drawers to look for your things. But then again, why even bother? It’s not like he’s going to unglue himself from Ulysses in favour of his freshly bathed girlfriend, so why should you put anything on — beside a pair of panties? It’s not like he’d notice, anyway.
You climb the bed, setting back down to his side, and you see him reaching out a hand looking for any body part of yours. You extend your arm, and he grabs it, bringing it to his face, when he inhales the sweet scent of your skin and kisses its softness.
“Smelling good, baby,” he mumbles the compliment without looking at you, and you look at him full of hope.
“Really?” Your tone is bright, hopeful, but he doesn’t reply back, and doesn’t even notice you snatching your wrist away from his grasp.
You’ve had enough of it. You’re tired of not having his attention on you, and you know you need to do something if you even want him to unglue himself from that book and order food for you later. You’ll be damned if you allow this man to ignore you for the whole day.
So you move around on all fours, setting yourself in between his legs. The muscles on his thigh flex as he moves the leg in an unconscious motion from left to right, and your hand travels to touch his inner thigh. He hisses, smacking your hand with his thigh, not even bothering using his hand.
He grunts as a warning when he feels your fingers travelling on his lower tummy, up to his chest and then back down. “Baby,” he warns, this time grabbing your wrist to stop you from scratching him. But you know what effect your ministrations have on him, and even if he’s not realising, he’s growing harder under your gaze. “I can’t lose this part right now, give me a minute,” he mumbles absentmindedly, letting your hand go.
So you put it to better use and you graze his growing hard-on, making him hiss once again, but this time he tries swaying your hands away with his own. Too bad that his eyes are still on that page, otherwise he’d see you’re naked and enjoying his squirming.
After all the ignoring he put you through today, you can’t allow him to enjoy everything to the max like you’d normally do, so a thought crosses your mind and you smirk, not even trying to hide it away — because, again, his head is deep into that book.
“Oh, baby,” you mumble amused, playfully biting on his thigh as your hands bring the elastic band of his pyjama shorts down, exposing his erection to the cool air of his room, “I wouldn’t want you to lose that part either,”
“Dude wha- what are you doing?” He stutters once he feels your cold fingers wrapping around his cock, finally looking away from the book in front of him. He looks down at you, mouth hovering over his crotch.
“What does it look like I’m doing, baby?” You ask him, and you hear his gulping.
You kiss his tip, and he hisses, sucking air through his teeth as soon as your lips travel up and down the side of his length.
He throws away the book, moving to remove his glasses too, but you frown and straighten up.
“No,” you tsk, pointing at the book, “I said I don’t want you to lose any important parts. You spent the whole day on it, so I really don’t wanna make you lose focus right now,” your tone is sarcastic, and it gets to him easily, faster than you could have imagined, his cock twitching in your hand as a reminder that he’s very into what you’re doing to him right now. “Pick up the book, Mark,” you command him, “How about you read it out loud for me, hmm?” Your tone is sarcastic once again, but you don’t wait for his answer, your warm mouth wrapping around his tip once again.
He sucks air through his teeth, but pushes his glasses up on his nose and clears his throat. He licks his lips, trying to maintain his composure, but just as he’s ready to open his mouth to recite the next few lines to you, he feels your tongue twirling around his tip, and a moan escapes past his lips, “O!” He bucks up his hips.
You don’t fight the smirk rapidly showing on your features as you proceed to give his tip kitten licks, and you enjoy his squirming under your gaze.
He inhales sharply, as if he’s preparing himself to pull through your challenge, “The poor little fella,” His Canadian accent slips out now that he’s concentrating on something else instead of the image of your lips wrapping around him, and his cock twitches in your grasp when he hears your giggles.
He takes a peek at you, raising the book swiftly, and you notice how his prominent cheekbones are now tinted with a light shade of red.
His lips are parted, and his gaze doesn’t meet yours, too busy looking at the way your mouth wraps around him once again.
You hum, amused, while moving your lips along the sides of his shaft, “The poor little fellow…” You speak up, and it makes him snap out of his thoughts, “Go on,”
He nods almost imperceptibly, licking his lips right before he takes a big breath, eyes trying to focus on the words right in his face.
“Hi-hi-hi-his legs-” He huffs, and you notice the muscles of his thighs tensing while he tries to fight the urge to buck up his hips, hoping for more friction as your tongue still plays along his shaft, “They were yellow,” His voice is raspy, tone low while trying to seem collected, yet you know. You know what you’re doing to him, and that he’s trying his best not to show you that he’s at your mercy — like always.
You allow him to continue reading out loud, while you bring your hand to wrap around his cock, gently squeezing him before you spit on his tip, warm hand moving up and down his shaft with controlled movements.
He can’t stay still, his hips moving up to meet your strokes, he has that typical desperation that takes over him every single time you’re intimate. His caress always turns into kisses; kisses turn into playful bites and touches laced with an extreme need to be glued to your body, to your skin — he can never keep his hands away from you, and he can’t survive not having yours on himself either.
His voice is raspy, he’s holding that book with so much force that his fingertips turned white, but his hips stopped moving, getting lost in the steady rhythm of your hand.
You lower your head, finally wrapping your mouth around his tip once again, and he moans mid sentence. A smile threatens to stretch across your face, satisfied with yourself at getting reactions out of your boyfriend.
“Baby-” His moan is high-pitched, hips bucking up to get just a bit more access into your mouth, as much as you’ll allow. Luckily for him, you can’t resist pleasing him and hearing the pretty sounds he makes, so you try to relax your jaw as much as you can, tongue flat on the underside of his cock as you sink your mouth as far down as you can.
You bob your head up and down, twirling your tongue around his sensitive tip, and Mark whimpers at the feeling. Looking up at him, you see him already looking down at you, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, white teeth sinking into his bottom lip trying to keep quiet — but it’s hard. Open mouthed huffs become whimpers and pleas every time he feels his dick sliding on your tongue, tip hitting the back of your throat.
You sink down on him, flat tongue sending electric shocks across his body as you get to the base of his cock, tip of your tongue coming out to tease his base and his balls.
He starts squirming under your ministrations, his book long forgotten on his chest.
“Babe,” He huffs, trying to sound compose, “Why-” He gulps, tilting his head while moaning, “Why are you doing this to me right now?!” He can barely speak up, he’s becoming too sensitive, too loud, and you know he doesn’t need much more before he cums in your mouth.
You bring one hand up to his chest, tapping your finger on his book, and he looks at you confused.
But then his eyes sparkle even more than before, understanding what you mean. He takes the books and throws it away from the bed, and you don’t even care where it lands. You wanted to torture him a bit longer, to make him read a bit more from his stupid book while you kept going down on him with the most agonisingly slow pace — yet you can’t escape how much you want him.
The torture you’ve subjected him to, albeit it wasn’t even half of what you had planned for him, is starting to bother you as well. Your loins feel on fire, the flimsy panties you put on are totally ruined just by pleasing your boyfriend and hearing the sounds he makes, and you really need to feel him inside of you, his body weight on top of you.
“Fuck,” He curses under his breath, tilting his head behind against the pillow, “Baby, stop! I’m gonna-” You see him sucking his stomach in a few times, and you know that’s your cue to stop. You swallow around his cock, and you see him shivering underneath you, gasping your name right before you retract your mouth and lips from his tip with a pop, and his cock falls heavy on his abdomen.
You hear him moaning before you notice him bringing his right hand up, trying to touch himself and to finally get to finish, but you grab his wrists, pushing both of them against the mattress, as you hover above his figure.
“Fuck, fuck, fu-” He’s frustrated, gasping as he looks up at you, and he moves his hips, trying to rut them against you somehow, yet you don’t allow him.
You look down at him, still keeping him immobilised, pushing down on his wrists. He’s flushed, panting, his frustration knows no bounds right now. His glasses are making him incredibly hot right now, and the look in his eyes while his gaze bores into yours, makes your insides melt with anticipation. As much as you’d like to just jump on top of him and ride him, you know by the look in his eyes that he has other plans for you.
You bow your head, reaching for his lips, and he does’t even allow you to come completely down before he raises his head to meet you halfway, his lips locking with yours in a hungry kiss.
It becomes messy, his soft lips moving desperately on top of yours, and you grant him access immediately, just as hungry for him. You can’t even keep up with him, he moans into the kiss, and every time you try to break it his lips just follow yours.
“Mark,” You whimper, trying to break the kiss, and you feel him rutting your hips against your core, as you hover above his crotch. His rutting makes you moan, tilting your head back, and he doesn’t lose the opportunity to trace your jaw with his lips, travelling further down your neck, giving you open mouthed kisses along your feverish pulse line.
You finally sit on top of him, hips moving in order to get a bit of friction and to ease the immense pressure that you’ve been feeling in between your legs.
Mark finally frees himself, pushing you off him, making you land on your back, and he’s immediately on top of you. He captures your lips in a kiss, tongue playing on your bottom lip, and then his lips travel further down once again. On your jaw, on your neck, on your chest, they leave fire traces on your sensitive skin, all covered in goosebumps thinking and anticipating how he’s going to finally make you feel after a day of basically ignoring you.
You know Mark. He loves you to death, and he reminds you of this every single day. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you, even if sometimes he can be the prisoner of his own mind, in his own bubble, deeply lost in his thoughts as he reads or concentrates on something specific.
He snatches his t-shirt off his back, tossing it next to you, “My turn now, baby,” He rasps, whiny tone gone, and his words almost make you shiver with anticipation at the warning and at the usage of the pet name. He kisses your abdomen, precise fingers sliding your drenched panties down your legs.
He grabs your legs, fingers pushing into the plush of your thighs, finally reaching behind your knees to push your legs up, spreading them.
You see him looking down for a moment, glasses almost foggy from all the panting you two did, but he stares at your core intently, and it only makes you whine as your core throbs around nothing. One look at his cock and you can see he’s still achingly hard, and you know it won’t take too long before he finally gives you want you want. You want to feel him inside of you, to stretch you out, make you feel full, make you feel good.
He finally bends down, hands still pushing your legs to keep them apart, and his tongue swirls a few time around your clit with steady motions.
“Mark!” You moan his name, head tilted back as you feel his tongue carefully moving along your slit, nose bumping into your clit each time, and you swear you’re so turned on that he’ll make you cum from this alone.
But Mark is greedy, he wants you in all the possible ways right now, but he knows you don’t have much time. He wants to take his sweet time with you, pamper you, finally take care of you just the way you deserve to be taken care of — but maybe later, because right now, you’re both reaching a level of desperation that’s hard to control.
He lets your legs go, instructing you to plant the soles of your feet on his sturdy shoulders, and you do as he says. He grabs you by the hips, bringing you even closer to his face. His glasses are on, although they’re already in the way — you can’t see his pretty eyes while he eats you out, and he can’t see your pretty face reacting to what he’s doing to you.
So you get up on your elbows, hand moving swiftly to snatch his glasses away from his face, and then you get his fringe out of the way, combing your fingers through his hair.
Your motions make Mark moan, and he brings his hand down, placing it under his chin, fingertips already tracing your entrance while his tongue plays with your clit.
His fingers inside of you, getting them in and out of you and bringing you the delicious friction, and then curling them, all while his tongue laps at your clip and slit, it makes your thighs shake, insides burning as you can feel your orgasm bubbling rapidly inside of you.
You grab his hand, the one resting on your hip, and you pinch his fingers, trying to get his attention on you.
“Mark…” You moan out his name, and you try bringing your thighs together in order to stop him. But your boyfriend, being the same stubborn man in all situations, refuses to let you go, keeping your legs in place. “ ’s too much,” You whine, grabbing him while trying to squirm away form his face, “Not like this… please,” You plea, and you see him teasing your clit one last time with his tongue, before he gets up.
You’re lucky he’s hard as fuck right now, almost to the point it hurts, and that he really wants to be inside of you.
He kisses his way up your body, leaving kisses on your trembling thighs, on your lower tummy, on your chest, all the way up to your jaw and mouth. Mark loves worshiping you, there’s nothing he’d want more than taking his sweet time with you right now. But it gets to a point, and excitement creeps up his spine as he lines himself at your entrance with ease.
You can feel you’re a mess, still turnt on to the point your core is already throbbing desperately, waiting for Mark to slide inside of you with ease.
And when he does, you both let out an airy gasp at the feeling. He’s stretching you so deliciously, you’re so turned on that you don’t even need time to adjust to his size. Mark, on the other hand, doesn’t move.
He pants, face in the crook of your neck, and he’s doing his best not to move. You can feel your walls throbbing around him, and you guess he’s the one who needs time to adapt to being inside of you right now.
He removes himself from your body, once again grabbing your legs and keeping them together, pushing them to your chest while he prepares to start moving inside of you. Mark’s a sentimental person, he likes emotional and physical connection — and he knows that three thrusts inside of you while he kept his head in the crook of your neck, and he was going to be done for.
Instead, he keeps your thighs together, bringing more pressure on your tummy and on your core, while he starts moving.
He pants, droplets of sweat already forming on his chest and neck as he fight the urge to move too fast, because that would only make him finish on the spot.
The pressure becomes too much to handle almost immediately, and you claw at his forearms in order to ground yourself. You can’t help the moans escaping your lips, the friction bringing you a sort of relief, all while the pressure keeps growing in your lower tummy, making your insides melt.
With every thrust, you feel like you’re getting closer. With every thrust, you can’t control your moans and sounds, and the moment Mark’s thumb touches your clit it’s what makes the pressure finally explode inside of you.
And feeling your walls squeezing him uncontrollably, Mark finally lets go of your legs, finally dropping down on top of your body as his hips keep moving in between yours, sliding in and out of you with ease. He can finally have you like he wanted in the first place, head in the crook of your neck, lips grazing your jaw, kissing your lips that are already plump from all the kissing and all the biting down on them. He pats your head, fingers combing through your locks as he tries to soothe you, knowing that he’s overstimulating you.
You wrap your legs tightly around his waist, squeezing him and bringing him even closer, and Mark stills for a moment, head falling on your shoulder as he starts moving his hips slower.
“Fuck,” He grunts in your ear, finally climaxing inside of you, and the whole thing sends goosebumps across your skin.
He kisses his way up from your neck, to your lips, but stays inside of you for a bit longer, and you squeal tiredly feeling his lips on you once again.
“You know what, baby,” He rasps, all tired, but the way he’s looking at you is just so loving and sparkly, and you bring him closer in order to kiss him again. “I’m thinking I should ignore you more often,” He finally sighs, getting off you, but still dragging you after him.
You find comfort in his embrace, head resting on his shoulder as your nose nuzzles the skin of his neck, and you can’t help but giggle at his remark.
After all, you can’t really complain if he ignores you again in the future, if it meant you’d be ending the day this way.
word count: 4k+ | genre: fluff, smut | featured couple: 🕷️🐈⬛
synopsis: mark finally convinces you to try period sex.
warnings: mentions of blood
↳ for this scenario specifically, mark uses the pet name: baby
you thought your cramps were supposed to get easier as you age, but you were learning that that was not the case at all.
every year just gets worse. bringing a new sort of pain — headaches that pound like hammers against your temples, diarrhea that leaves you weak and queasy, a fever that makes your skin flush hot and clammy.
but for this month’s cycle, the cramps are so bad, unbearable, like a vise clamping down on your lower belly, twisting and pulling without mercy. enough to completely shatter your strong exterior.
you’ve tried everything that usually helped — pain reliever. heating pads. chocolate. vapor rub. every curled up position your body could possibly do.
nothing is working.
mark usually loved it when you were on your period. two years together and it was the only time, really, besides nights where you get a little too drunk — that you let him baby you.
and he loves taking care of you. loves it when you need him, when you lean into his strength and let him soothe the storm inside you.
it’s been three hours of trying to find a solution — he’s fetched fresh hot water bottles, brewed herbal teas that taste like dirt, even massaged your back with those firm, knowing hands of his.
and still, the agony rolls on, wave after relentless wave.
“it hurts so bad,” you whine out softly, one hand squeezing his fingers, his knuckles white under your grip, the other pushing down on your abdomen, trying to relieve some of the pressure, a single tear rolling down your cheek.
“i know, baby,” mark says softly, not complaining even if your grip does stop the blood flowing in his fingers.
it annoys you. because he doesn’t know. he’s a man, for christ’s sake. he wasn’t cursed every month with this bloody ritual.
“no. you don’t,” you snap, curling yourself even tighter into a ball, knees drawn up to your chest as another cramp seizes up, sharp and unforgiving.
mark doesn’t argue. he never does when you snap like this. instead, he shifts closer on the bed, releasing your hand gently, only to slide his palm over yours where it presses against your stomach. his touch is warm, deliberate, fingers splaying wide to cover the aching spot.
“tell me what to do,” he murmurs, his breath brushing your ear, “anything, i’ll make it stop.”
you shake your head, biting your lip to stifle a sob, seeking comfort as you dug your head into his chest. the pain subsides for a second, just enough to let you breathe, but you know your body. and you know the pain will come back even stronger.
“i don’t know. it’s never been this intense. feels like…like something’s tearing me apart inside.”
he nods, his hand continuing the gentle massage.
mark’s always been like this — patient, attentive, gentle — especially when you’re vulnerable. it’s part of what draws you to him, this quiet devotion that makes you feel seen, even in your messiest moments.
he leans in, pressing his lips to your forehead, lingering there as if he could draw the pain out with a kiss.
“i know you don’t want to hear this,” he starts softly, his breath brushing your ear, “but maybe we should try it.”
you know exactly what he’s referring to — period sex.
apparently, according to the other girls, it works wonders.
mark has been trying to convince you to try it, for your own sake, though he can’t deny he’s also been a little curious on how it would feel.
but your flow was heavy, and all you could think about was the mess. you don’t see how it could make you feel better at all. the thought of blood everywhere makes your stomach twist even more.
“mark, no,” you mumble against his chest as you try to exhale the pain away, “it’s too messy.”
he doesn’t pull back, his hand staying warm and steady on your side, fingers pressing in gentle circles that eases the ache just a bit.
“i don’t care about the mess, baby,” he says, his voice soft and earnest, lips grazing your temple, “we can put down a towel. they say the orgasm can help with the cramps, release the tension, make you feel better.”
his words hang in the air but you’re still not convinced.
until another wave of pain hits, sharper this time, like a knife digging deeper into your gut. you groan in pain, your fingers gripping the front of his shirt so tight, he swears it’ll leave imprints of your nails etched into the fabric.
the cramps pulse relentlessly.
“fuck,” you hiss through clenched teeth, tears pricking your eyes again. you lift your head slowly, forcing your gaze up to meet his. he’s already staring down at you, his eyes soft and brimming with worry, brows furrowed as he brushes a strand of hair from your forehead.
“okay,” you breathe, your voice trembling, the pain making the decision for you.
“okay?” he echoes, his tone laced with gentle surprise, not expecting you to actually agree. its always been a firm no before. he searches your face, thumb stroking your cheek to wipe away the tear that escaped.
“yeah,” you nod faintly, desperate to feel some relief, even if it’s just for a minute, “we can try it but…be careful.”
mark’s smile is soft as he presses a quick kiss to your lips, “i’ll take care of you,” he says sweetly.
he slips off the bed, heading towards the bathroom, rummaging briefly before returning with a thick towel. he unfolds it once, then folds it again into a neat square, thick enough to catch everything without letting any blood seep through the sheets.
“lift up just a bit for me, okay?,” he’s all slow gentleness, his hand resting on your hip, guiding, as you manage a small arch of your back, wincing at the pull in your muscles. he slides the towel underneath with precise care.
once you’re settled back down, mark kneels beside you on the bed, his eyes warm and attentive as they meet yours.
this is new territory for both of you — the first time navigating intimacy during your period.
“we’ll go slow, we’ll figure this out together,” he murmurs, leaning in to brush another soft kiss against your forehead. you could cry from how gentle and understanding he was being.
his hands move to the hem of your shirt, fingers hooking gently under the fabric and he tugs it upward slowly, giving you time to change your mind. you don’t. you lift your arms in surrender and he peels the shirt off over your head, tossing it aside. the cool air of the bedroom kisses your bare breasts, already cooling down the heat surging through your body.
he shifts closer, settling his body half over yours without dropping his weight, one hand splaying across your lower abdomen. his palm is broad and steady, pressing with just enough firmness to ease the dull ache from your cramps. he starts rubbing slow, firm circles on your stomach, coaxing the tension to unwind.
“how’s that feel?” he asks softly, genuinely seeking your input as he tests the pressure.
you nod, a quiet sigh escaping as the pressure soothes the bloating pull in your belly, “it’s nice…keep doing that,” you whisper.
you shut your eyes as you try to focus on his touches instead of the lingering sting. he observes you with a smile, adjusting his touch slightly firmer where it seems to help most.
his other hand drifts upward, tracing the curve of your side before cupping one of your breasts. your nipples are already peaked, sore and sensitive from the hormonal surge of your period, and his touch sends a sharp spark of pleasure straight to you — stronger than usual, catching you both off guard as your body reacts, arching up towards his touch.
you pull him closer and he lets you, “markie, can you suck on it?” you whine, needy.
his eyes darken with desire, that soft markie pulling a low chuckle from him as he leans in closer. you rarely use the nickname — usually it was reserved for when you wanted your way.
except this time, you didn’t have to use it because that’s what he was planning to do anyway.
his lips brush against the swell of your breast, warm and teasing, before he takes your nipple into his mouth. he sucks gently at first, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud, drawing out a gasp from you as the sensation shoots through your body like electricity.
“this okay?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice muffled as he switches to the other side, placing soft kisses on your skin before sucking harder. his hand massages the one he’s just left and you arch into him, breath hitching.
you’re not really sure if the pain from your cramps has gone away or if you’re mind is just too distracted by the pleasure to feel it — either way, it was working.
“yes…don’t stop, mark,” you moan, your hands threading into his hair, fingers curling lightly at first.
the arousal builds fast, fueled by the hormones raging through you, and your hips start to shift restlessly against the mattress, seeking friction.
he notices it immediately, his free hand sliding down your side, over the curve of your hip and dipping beneath the waistband of your panties.
he doesn’t tug them off, just slides his hand in enough to reach your slick folds. you’re soaked already, a mix of your arousal and the period blood he could care less about, making everything slippery and warm.
two of his fingers find your clit, swollen and throbbing, and he starts rubbing slow circles, pressing just right.
“oh–”
he lifts his head briefly to observe your reaction — your eyes are still shut but this time your eyebrows weren’t furrowed so angrily and he knew it was working.
he dives back in without a word, sucking on your nipple while he adds more pressure on your clit, rubbing harder circles, your hips bucking up involuntarily.
the pressure coils tight in your belly, faster than ever, pushing you right to the edge. your fingers tug at his hair a little harder now, not rough but urgent, pulling him even closer.
“mark…i’m—” your words cut off in a breathless moan, body seizing in a quick, mini orgasm.
and for a second — you feel nothing but pleasure. the pain completely subsided.
he pulls back just enough to stare at you in awe, his finger still lazily circling your clit, drawing out soft whimpers.
“holy shit, kitten….that was so fast,” his voice is husky, amazed, a grin spreading across his face as he watches the flush creep over your skin.
“did it help?” he asks gently, his eyes searching.
“yeah,” you nod softly, still catching your breath, coming down from the short-lived high, “the pain was completely gone when i orgasmed.”
he nods, taking a mental note, his expression thoughtful yet tender as he presses a soft kiss to your collarbone, “and how about now?”
you pout your lips, and it’s just so cute to him, these rare moments where you don’t even try to hold everything together — his heart flips at the sight.
“it’s coming back,” you say, the slight twinge returning like a dull echo in your core.
“do you want me to keep going?” he asks, waiting for your cue, his gaze full of that caring intensity that always makes you feel safe.
“yeah…please,” you admit softly, your hand sliding from his hair to cup his jaw, drawing him back toward you with a needy pull.
mark smiles as he leans in, kissing you softly, his mouth warm and reassuring against yours, “i got you, baby,” he murmurs against your lips before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes.
his hands move with gentle purpose, hooking into the waistband of your shorts and easing them down your hips. he removes your underwear next, revealing the blood-covered pad — no hesitation in his movements, no flicker of disgust crossing his face. the sight of the crimson stain doesn't faze him at all.
he loves you too much to care about something so natural, his focus solely on your comfort and pleasure.
he peels it away carefully, rolling it and setting it on the discarded underwear before placing the bundle aside to a spot out of the way.
you feel exposed yet safe under his gaze, the cool air kissing your bare skin as he shifts to strip off his own clothes. his shirt comes off first, revealing the familiar lines of his chest, then his sweats follow, cock springing free — already hard from the heat of the moment.
he positions himself between your legs, the mattress dipping under his weight, and guides his cock to your entrance, sliding the length down your folds in a slow drag.
the head parts your slick lips, coating itself in your arousal mixed with the bit of period blood, the warmth of it making him groan low in his throat.
“fuck, you’re so wet,” he breathes, his voice rough with his own desire, eyes locked on where you’re joining as he nudged the tip inside.
the intrusion is easy, your pussy welcoming him with a greedy clench, stretched and filled in one smooth thrust that has you gasping, walls fluttering around him.
“oh god, mark,” you moan, your hips lifting instinctively to take him deeper, the fullness chasing away the returning ache in your belly with a rush of heat.
it feels incredible, the slight messiness of it all only heightening the intimacy.
mark stills inside you for a moment, his cock throbbing against your inner walls as he searches your face, concern and desire etched in his features.
“how does that feel?” he asks, his voice low and husky, one hand stroking your thigh in soothing circles.
“good,” you assure him, the word coming out breathy, your pussy clenching around him in emphasis, “really good.”
he nods, a small smile tugging at his lips, relief flashing in his eyes.
“i’m gonna start moving,” he says softly, his thumb brushing your hip, “tell me if it’s too much.”
you nod, biting your lip in anticipation, your hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to pull back slowly, the drag of his shaft against your sensitive folds sending sparks of pleasure up your spine.
he thrusts in again, gentle and measured, testing the waters — your body is so responsive right now, every nerve ending alive, the period making everything feel stronger.
“still okay?” he murmurs, watching your reactions closely as he sets a languid rhythm, his hips rolling forward to bury himself to the hilt before retreating just enough to tease your entrance.
“mmm, yes,” you gasp, the stretch of him filling you so completely that it pushes the lingering cramps further into oblivion.
his pace picks up just a fraction, each slide in and out deliberate, his balls brushing against your ass with every deep push.
“you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, leaning down to press soft, wet kisses on the side of your face, along your ear, his breath hot against your skin, “so tight and wet.”
the slow build has you writhing beneath him, your clit throbbing with need, “faster,” you whisper after a few minutes, testing your limits, your nails digging into his back.
he hesitates for a beat, not wanting to hurt you.
“i can handle it—please, markie.”
again — you only use it when you want something. and he gives into it every times.
“tell me if you need me to slow down,” he reminds you.
and then his hips snap forward with more urgency, the pace quickening as he drives his cock deeper into your soaked pussy, the slick mix of your arousal and blood making every thrust glide effortlessly.
you gasp at the increased friction, walls clenching around him greedily, chasing the building pressure that erases the last echoes of cramps.
but the wetness is overwhelming — on one powerful stroke, his cock slips out entirely, sliding up against your clit and smearing more of the mess across your thighs.
“shit,” mark mutters, his voice rough with frustration and lust, grabbing his shaft to line up again. he pushes back in with a groan, the interruption only heightening your sensitivity.
your legs tighten around his waist as he resumes, faster now, his balls slapping against your ass with each plunge.
“don’t stop,” you beg, your voice breaking into a whine, hips bucking up to meet him, “i’m already close—oh god—mark.”
he grunts in response as he fucks you harder, his hands gripping your hips to angle you just right, hitting the exact spot he’s memorized.
another thrust and it happens again — his cock pops free mid-stroke, the head nudging your swollen folds before he curses under his breath and shoves back inside.
this unintentional edging hit you hard — your orgasm crashes through you without warning, back arching as waves of ecstasy ripple through you, walls spasming around his length, a raw, breathless whine escaping you, body seizing in bliss, fingers clawing at his shoulders.
it catches mark off guard.
he slows for a second, awe in his eyes, cock still buried deep and pulsing inside.
“you okay, babe?” he doesn’t pull out, just rocks gently to prolong the aftershocks, his own arousal evident in the way his cock twitches.
you were better than okay. the cramps are obliterated, replaced by pleasure. you don’t want him to stop.
“more,” you manage to say.
he chuckles breathlessly, resuming his rhythm with renewed vigor, pounding into you with short, sharp thrusts that make the bed creak.
the wetness causes a third slip.
“goddamn it,” he growls, determination flashing in his eyes as he adjusts his stance, dragging his cock along your slick entrance before slamming back in, refusing to let it happen again.
mark shifts his body, settling his full weight on you, his chest pressing against yours as he wraps his arms around your shoulder in a tight hug. he keeps his cock buried deep, only letting his hips rut forward in quick, shallow pumps, as fast as he can without sliding too far out.
the change is immediate — the constant friction turns into an intense vibration, his cock grinding against your inner walls with every rapid snap, the pressure unrelenting and electric.
you’re lost in it now, the mind-numbing pleasure blurring out everything else as he fucks you relentlessly. you cling to him desperately, arms locked around his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, needing him to ground you amid the chaos of sensation.
words fail you completely — your mouth open in a series of ragged gasps and throaty moans, each one higher and more broken than the last.
mark's breath fans hot against your neck, his voice dropping to a rough whisper laced with dark intent.
“i should just put a baby in you—that'll definitely stop the cramps," he grunts, the words sending a forbidden thrill straight to your center.
your hormone-ravaged body betrays you instantly, pussy clenching hard around his buried length, fluttering in eager response as if begging for exactly that, waves of illicit heat flooding your veins.
“fuckkk, you want that, don't you, kitten?” he groans, feeling your tight squeeze milk him deeper, his hips stuttering for a split second before he drives forward harder.
no. you don’t want that. you and mark have discussed future plans before and having kids was way down the line.
but obviously your mind has lost and your body doesn’t agree.
the dirty promise tips you over the edge without mercy — your orgasm slams into you like a freight train, walls spasming wildly around his cock, squeezing him in vise-like pulses that draw a guttural moan from his throat.
you cry out wordlessly, a high-pitched whine breaking free as ecstasy rips through you, your thighs locking around his waist, body convulsing in his arms.
the intensity of your release pushes him right after you, his cock swelling inside your gripping heat before he thrusts deep one last time, burying to the hilt as he cums hard — hot spurts flood your pussy, mixing with your slick arousal and the faint trace of blood, his groans vibrating against your skin as he empties himself completely, hips jerking erratically through the waves.
he holds you close, chest heaving against yours, both of you trembling in the shared afterglow, the cramps long forgotten in the haze of sated bliss.
mark’s cock softens slowly inside your pulsing heat, still buried deep as his body relaxes against yours.
it takes him a few long minutes to catch his breath, his chest rising and falling steadily while he nuzzles into your neck. but you're even slower to come down from the high — your limbs heavy and tingling, waves of aftershocks rippling through your core, leaving you limp and dazed beneath him.
he doesn't pull out, just stays connected, arms cradling you close as he lifts his head to pepper your face with feather-light kisses — your forehead, your flushed cheeks, the corner of your mouth, each one tender and lingering.
his eyes stay fixed on you the whole time, drinking in the way your features soften in utter bliss, lashes fluttering against your skin as you drift in the haze.
finally, after what feels like an eternity of shared quiet, your eyelids part, meeting his gaze with a hazy softness.
“how are you feeling?” he asks again, thumb brushing your jaw, voice low and gentle, careful not to shatter the fragile peace.
a small smile curves your lips, playful despite the exhaustion, “how is this supposed to work, exactly?” you tease, your voice breathy and light.
his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, a spark of amusement lighting his eyes, “why? did it not work?”
you shake your head slightly, the motion sending a faint twinge through your body, though it's nothing compared to before.
“it works, but then the pain just comes back,” you explain, shifting just enough to feel him still nestled inside you, a comforting fullness.
“do we just keep going until you fuck me to sleep or something?” the words slip out bolder than you intend, laced with that teasing edge, but there's truth underneath it.
he bursts into a low laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest and vibrating against yours, “i mean…we could.”
“mark, be serious,” you protest, though a giggle bubbles up in your throat, your hands sliding up his back to trace lazy patterns on his skin.
he’s still chuckling, eyes crinkling at the corners, “i am serious, you almost fell asleep right now — a couple more rounds should get you there.”
you roll your eyes, but the idea settles warm in your belly, chasing away the lingering ache with a fresh spark of heat.
it doesn't sound half bad, not with him looking at you like that, all devoted and ready.
“can you even keep it up?” you challenge, arching a brow as your fingers toy with the hair at his nape.
the grin that spreads across his face is pure mischief, accepting the dare without hesitation.
“just give me ten minute breaks in between, i got you,” he smirks, earning a giggle from you.
before you can fire back another tease, he dips his head to claim your mouth in a deep kiss — slow at first, tongues tangling lazily as his hand slides from your hip to grip your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist.
it was going to be a long night.
ᥫ᭡.
you were asleep now. true to his words — mark did fuck you to sleep. each round built on the last until exhaustion claimed you. the relentless ache of your cramps completely gone in your dreamlike state.
while you sleep peacefully, mark moves with quiet efficiency.
he slips out carefully, not wanting to disturb your rest, gently grabbing the bloodied towel from beneath your hips along with your old pad and underwear.
without a second thought, he discards the pad properly and heads to the laundry room, tossing the towel straight into the washer.
he handles the mess — making sure you didn’t have to worry about anything when you wake up.
back in the bedroom, he rummages through your drawer for a fresh pair of underwear and a new pad, his touch feather-light as he gently lifts your legs one at a time to slide them on. then he wets a warm cloth in the bathroom sink and returns to clean you up. the soft fabric glides over your inner thighs, wiping away any lingering traces of blood and your combined juices.
he takes care of himself too, rinsing his cock until it's spotless, the water running pink for a moment before clearing.
satisfied, he dries off and pulls on his own boxers before sliding back into bed beside you.
you stir just enough in your sleep to sense his warmth, instinctively curling into his side — your head nestling against his chest, one arm draping over his waist as your leg hooks over his.
a contented sigh escapes your lips, and mark smiles softly in the dim light, wrapping his arm around you and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
🐈⬛
an: another loverboy extra? this quick? who would’ve thought! i’ve been in my mark feelings and literally abandoned everything else i was writing to write this lololol. i forgot how fast and easy it is to write when my parasocial demons are alive and kicking 😬🫢
mark is ripped from sleep by a tiny hand repeatedly smacking his cheek. “appa," he hears squeak from beside his bedside before another soft blow lands on him. mark groans and pulls the blanket over his head. “buddy,” he mutters into the pillow, “if the house isn’t on fire, go back to bed.”
another smack lands on his face. “appa. up please" mark sighs dramatically before finally opening his eyes. his 3 year old son is standing beside the bed wide awake. mark glances toward the clock. three thirty-seven in the morning shines bright back at him.“why are you awake?”
cub immediately lifts both arms. “up.” mark closes his eyes. without another word he reaches down and lifts the boy onto the mattress. the second cub’s feet touch the bed he takes off straight across mark and straight toward you. mark watches as his son practically launches himself onto your side of the bed before immediately curling up on top of you.
you let out a sleepy noise when the toddler suddenly lands on your chest. your eyes crack open. “baby?” you mumble, still half asleep. your son immediately snuggles closer and buries his face against your neck, “hi mama.” your hand automatically finds his hair. “hi.” the two of you start drifting back to sleep. mark, however, is now fully awake and trapped on the edge of the bed. he reaches over to pull the blanket higher over both of you and wrap an arm around your waist. immediately, your sons eyes opens and his gaze narrows at mark, “no.”
mark blinks, “no?” cub grabs your arm and hugs it tighter, “my mama.” mark looks at you and youre smiling into your pillow. “buddy,” mark says carefully, “i’m literally giving you the blanket. appa is also about to fall off the bed.” he scoots even closer to you, “my mama.” mark lets out a laugh, “she was mine first.” cub shakes his head, “mine. you finally start laughing. cub reaches up and pats your cheek, “sleep mama.”
mark attempts to move closer. immediately a tiny hand shoots out. you're laughing harder now.
“don’t encourage him.”
“i’m not.”
“you’re laughing .”
“because you’re getting bullied by our son.”
mark looks down at the boy in question then sighs dramatically and falls back onto his pillow, “fine." you reach over and squeeze his hand without opening your eyes. “goodnight, baby.” mark looks at the sleeping little boy sprawled across and sighs.
You've never had a positive male figure in your life, so when Mark Lee shows up with his unexpected silliness, curiosity and care, you're suspicious that it's all an act and it's just a matter of time he'll finally show his true colours.
Until he shows you that he is genuinely a good guy.
➳ Characters: neighbour!Mark x female reader/you
➳ Genre: romance, comedy, opposites attract, sunshine x sunshine protector, badass female lead x loser boy energy, manhater fl x best boy ml
➳ Words: 10.3k
➳ Warning: mentions of food, drinks, misogyny, men being jerks, lack of positive male figures in reader's life including a demanding and unsupportive father
➳ A/N: Dedicated to @dat-town with all my love ❤️ Because you're the Johnny to my Mark haha #4yearagegapmeansnothingtous
Also, I recommend you listen to 'Little Miss' by GIRLSET for the vibes!
The only reason you said yes to this blind date was because your mother specifically warned you not to intimidate the guy she would want to set you up with.
Which meant that you had successfully intimated some guys before, enough that she would hear back from the indignant mothers of the other douchebags you had been set up with. Also, if being honest and being yourself meant that guys were scared of you, then so be it. You needed no one’s approval to live your life the way you wanted, much less a man’s.
It’s not that you hated all men. You knew there were nice ones out there. Like your primary school headteacher, your next door neighbour when you had been living in a flatshare during university, the elderly men selling your favourite mandu, the owner of your favourite second-hand bookshop and so on…
However, all the men in your life were just disappointments. Your grandfather had never cared about you, not even before he had become a little too reliant on alcohol (your other grandfather had passed away when you had been little, so you couldn’t fault him). One of your uncles was someone who would never admit that they were wrong even when they were and completely controlled your aunt whereas the other one wouldn’t lift a finger to help out at home and as soon as he got home, he turned on the TV and stayed there until he fell asleep on the couch, so your aunt had to bring him food and drinks.
Let’s not talk about the worst of all: your father. The sad thing is that you used to idolise him. He was smart, hard-working, and seemed to know everything you were curious about as a child. For this reason, he had seemed so perfect, and you had wanted to be just like him. So you had followed his every word, his every command, and soon enough, you had lost yourself.
You had realised that you weren’t happy doing the things that he wanted, not like they were ever enough. It was like a zero sum game: you could never win no matter how much you tried. Even if you did just what he wanted - you chose the university he wanted, the major he wanted, the career he wanted -, he wasn’t satisfied. There was always something he could nitpick, and worst of all, you had started noticing how he had always put women down. He thought of his female engineer colleagues as less than him, always complained about your mother’s hobbies because he didn’t deem them sophisticated enough, and he said that business in any way was not for women.
So you had disappointed him majorly when you had left engineering behind and moved abroad to study financial management at a university that you had chosen for yourself in a country that you had chosen for yourself. Guess what? You had graduated with a first-class honours degree.
On the other hand, the most important thing was that you had found yourself in the process. Your university had offered free counselling and you had taken advantage of it, working through your past of people-pleasing, inability to say no, inability to set boundaries and holding yourself back from being yourself. Being in a foreign country on your own was challenging enough, but it was also deliberating. Away from home, you realised even more how surface-level your father’s care was, and that was the final nail in the coffin.
When you had moved back to Korea, you had also started looking for a new place because you wanted to move out of your parents’ house to start living on your own as soon as possible. You had enough money because you had worked a couple of years as an engineer and worked throughout your second degree, so you didn’t need to ask your parents for money. Of course, your father had disapproved of it, but you couldn’t care less. You had become a different person, a stronger, bolder, more confident person, and he wanted nothing of it.
Fine, it was his loss anyway. He could go back to idolising your sister no matter how much she fucked up because her? She was perfect. Even without straight As or a flawless track record of classroom behaviour, she had always been his favourite. That you couldn’t really compete with, and you hated how much you had let it affect you growing up; chasing a mirage in the desert, an illusion that had nothing to do with reality.
As for your mother, she tried in her own way to stay in touch with you including setting up blind dates for you. You were practically a spinster in their eyes, and she thought that she was doing something good by playing the matchmaker, but in all honesty, her efforts were futile because all the guys you had met so far were complete idiots. Cheating, lying, manipulating, two-faced jerks.
This time too, the date was a disaster. The food at the restaurant was at least good and more easily digestible than the nonsense the guy was spewing. Frankly, he resembled your father so much that you felt like trampling on his ego with your high heels. Did he really think that by criticizing your choice of profession, you would fall at his feet, pleading with him to marry you, so that you could be a housewife instead of working in finance?
“Look… As they say, time is money, and I feel like I’m nearing bankruptcy listening to your nonsense, so I suggest we both go our own ways instead of wasting our time here. You won’t change my mind about my career, you won’t change my mind about a woman’s place in the household, and you definitely won’t change my mind about you being a jerk, so…”
You shrugged at the end of your monologue, your smile so mellifluous that someone without context might think that you were actually harbouring feelings for this prick who was not only shocked but also annoyed upon hearing your words.
Ding-dong. That’s when they all show their true colours…
“You listen to me, you little-”
“Blablabla, I can’t hear you, and you can’t tell me anything I haven’t heard before, so let me just remove myself from this extremely uncomfortable and unsupportive atmosphere,” you announced as you stood up from the table and pushed your chair back.
You gave him one last death stare before turning on your heel and leaving the restaurant, his not-so-pleasant words thrown at you not reaching you anymore.
Needless to say, you weren’t really in a good mood after such a disastrous date. So the last thing you wanted was to run into your neighbour when you got home, but as you were fumbling with your keys in front of your door, the door of the flat opposite of yours flew open and a chatty male voice called out:
“Hey, yo! I finally ran into you.”
Hey, yo? What on Earth?
You cautiously turned around, your keys in your hands, ready to be faced with a typical fuckboy who felt like he could talk to women like one of his dudes, but instead, a boy who literally looked like a boy-next-door kind of guy looked back at you.
He wasn’t super tall, he wasn’t super muscular either, but he had these big doe eyes and boyish features that made it difficult to guess whether he was 16 or 26. Though judging by the fact that the landlord said that one single guy lived on this floor, he should have been over 18 to live alone.
“Hi!” You greeted him back, your voice neutral at best, but the guy either didn’t catch onto it or he was this merry-go-round even when faced with a girl who wasn’t in a good mood.
“I’ve heard that someone was moving in, but I guess we didn’t manage to catch each other before,” he chatted excitedly, but you just deadpanned as you mumbled.
“Apparently.”
An awkward silence filled the air which was usually the cue for the other person to whimper away, but this boy looked way too casual and friendly for his own good. Plus, he beat you to it, so instead of you excusing yourself to actually enter your flat, he introduced himself as Mark Lee.
So you had no choice but to introduce yourself too, solely out of politeness.
“Uhm, so, what do you do for a living?” He asked as if you had all the time in the world when you just wanted this day to end.
On the other hand, this Mark Lee guy didn’t look like he meant harm, so you unlocked your jaw and dropped your shoulders (you were usually tense and cautious around new people) before you answered.
“I work in finance.”
“Wait, so you’re like a finance bro! But in a female version, of course. Is there a female version to the term? Finance lady, perhaps?” He blabbered, carefree like a puppy waggling its tail.
You had to give it to him that you had never been asked the same question when people heard what field you worked in, but men didn’t usually react like this, they merely judged your choice of profession.
“I wouldn’t know. There’s only one other female employee in the finance team.”
“What? That’s not right.”
Mark looked as if you had told him that the world would end the next day. Truth to be told, it was kind of flattering that a guy could ever react like that when it came to your job and the environment you worked in. Needless to say, the only other female employee in the finance team was your manager, the one who had hired you. She had been promoted after the previous male manager had left for a different company, so she knew exactly how hard one must work in this field to be taken seriously as a woman. You were lucky that you could confide in her though.
“What about you?” You asked about his side instead of pondering over his reaction, and he immediately switched back to chatty mode.
“Oh well, I’m not really good with numbers. I’m actually a songwriter. But don’t worry, I don’t make a lot of noise at home. I have my equipment in the studio,” he explained in detail even if you didn’t ask.
When the second momentary silence fell over you, you took it upon you to break it by announcing:
“Well, it was nice meeting you, but if you excuse me, I’ll head inside now.”
“Yeah, sure. My bad,” he replied with a semi-nervous chuckle and he literally stepped back as if you were heading that way.
Instead, you turned back to your own door and let yourself in, feeling the weariness of the day taking over you as soon as you got rid of your high heels.
Ah, what a day!
It was truly astonishing how men had the audacity to make comments on a woman’s body, choice or opinion, but when women bit back, they got offended, pleaded that they were only joking or blamed women for being too emotional or uptight or perhaps being on their period.
Like that day when you went to pick up your new blanket chest from the store. Even though the order was under your name, the man at the collection point dared to ask you where your boyfriend was to help you take it home. When you proceeded to tell him that you would be fine on your own, he laughed and said that “eventually all women are broken in”.
He even dared to smirk at you as if you were ready to fall at his feet and marry him for being so witty. Instead, you picked up the box on your own and pulled your lips into a mellifluous smile as you remarked:
“Women are not horses, but how would a man like you with the brain capacity of a bathroom rug know that?”
Now, he didn’t feel like smirking anymore, but you were already out of the store by the time his comeback would have reached you. You definitely didn’t need a man’s help because though the blanket chest wasn’t that big, it weighed quite a bit, but that’s why you were exercising. Not to look good and definitely not to appeal to men, but to be able to carry everything you wanted, let that be groceries or new furniture.
Thankfully, you had a seat on the metro, so you were saved from holding the box for half an hour, but you were panting a bit by the time you reached your flat.
Obviously, Mr-eager-neighbour just had to walk out of his flat as you reached your floor.
“Oh hey, Y/N! Need some help with that?”
“What is with you men thinking that a woman can’t do this on her own?” You muttered, rolling your eyes, as you put the box on the floor in front of your door. Then, you turned towards Mark who looked back at you with his big doe eyes, ready to defend himself. Before he could do so, you continued. “I’ve brought this back on my own all the way from the store, so I think I can manage for the last few metres.”
“Oh wow, you’re strong!” He remarked in awe, but as soon as he saw your unamused expression, he explained himself. “I mean, you’re right. You were literally just three steps away from your door. I guess it just came naturally to me to offer help. Not because you couldn’t do it on your own, but in case you were struggling but didn’t want to say so yourself.”
“Oh, I will tell you if I need help. I’m not one to hold back my opinion,” you laid down your cards in case he was wondering if you were a damsel in distress.
If you genuinely needed help, you would say so without shame, without caring what others might think. You had grown a thick skin over the years, so such things didn’t make you freeze on the spot anymore, leaving you with regrets as to how else you could have handled the situation.
If Mark was like the typical example of the male species you usually encountered, he would make a comment on how you were high on your horses or how you were so brazen. Maybe he would even give you a seductive smirk, saying that he liked girls who didn’t hold back. Or he would even remark that you should know your place and this was no way you should speak to a man.
Instead, Mark looked so apologetic (like a puppy who did something wrong) that you felt bad for him for a millisecond before the walls around your heart recomposed.
“That’s absolutely fine. Honestly. Like… just be yourself, you know?” He tried to play it cool, but his wild hand gestures didn’t exactly help his awkward self. He giggled like a school girl when he realised that he had just made a fool out of himself, but then, as if lighting struck him, he snapped his fingers and asked:
“Does it mean I can also ask you for help?”
You were about to open your mouth to say something when you realised that you weren’t quite sure how to word yourself. This was not a question you had been asked. Even when you were young, your father had only asked you to help your mother (because obviously he was too mighty to help out his wife), not him. Never him. Even when he had wanted you to take after him and be an engineer, he had literally never let you see the projects he had been working on. You had never done those experiments at home together that other kids who had nothing to do with physics had done with their parents.
“I mean… sure,” you blurted out, slightly uncertain, but even that was enough to light up his whole face.
“Cool. I might ask your opinion on some songs that I’ve been working on because I need a female’s perspective on it. I’m only working with dudes, and to be honest, I don’t want my lyrics to come across negatively to the most likely female listeners that will listen to it. If that makes sense.”
Mark’s whole monologue was said in one-go, and though he was clumsily trying to get to his point, you actually appreciated his idea. Huh, a male songwriter who cares about what female listeners would feel about his lyrics? How unlikely. How revolutionary for the male species!
“Okay,” you bobbed your head, giving in.
“Thanks. That would be awesome!” Mark hollered excitedly. At times like this, it was even harder to tell just how old he was because he looked like a kid at an amusement park. “I gotta go now though. See you soon!”
He bid his goodbye with a wave of his hands and a big smile, and all you could do was to watch him go down the stairs with the most perplexed expression ever.
Just who was this guy? And what was his deal?
Surely, he would show his flaws soon. He would make those remarks, go against your opinion, try to mansplain and make you regret that you had ever allowed him to talk to you.
Surely, it will happen soon.
Mark’s personality confused the hell out of you.
You were always ready for him to drop his act, to finally act like the douchebags you had the chance to meet previously, but it never came. Instead, he just appeared more and more… innocent, if you will.
As it turned out, he was the same age as you, but he was still in awe at random things like the project you were working on at work. One time, he even showed you the picture he took of the sunset, claiming that you just had to see it because it was the prettiest sunset he had ever seen. He said it with such enthusiasm, it felt like he had just won the lottery.
Then, there was his kind heart. Even though you had been suspicious at first, the boy had literally never said anything offensive to you, had never even looked at you any differently no matter what you wore or how much make-up you put on (as neighbours, he frequently bumped into you in your PJs as you were taking out the trash or in smart casual clothes when you were going to work). He was rather clumsy and silly at times, stumbling over his words and going on whole monologues about his point instead of getting straight to it, and he got shy more often than not when you challenged him with a question or gave him one of your trademark death stares.
He was… different. For the first time in your life, you had no idea how to act around a guy because you couldn’t diss him for who he was because he was a nice guy. He didn’t even bat an eye when you vented to him about men. In fact, he even took your side! So very strange…
Also, he did end up asking you for help with a couple of songs. He said that he wanted face-to-face feedback if you were up for it and suggested coming over to his flat, but the alarms went off in your head immediately. You told him ‘absolutely not’ and asked him to choose a neutral place instead - a coffee shop or a park, for instance.
So you ended up going to a coffee shop where one of his friends allegedly worked, and sat down at a table somewhere in the back. Right away, a tall guy appeared at your table and after a few ‘hey, dude, how have you been’ questions, Mark introduced you to his friend, Johnny.
“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Just so you know, you’re the first girl Mark brought here, so I have a feeling you must be special,” Johnny gave you an amused smile, but your eyes immediately averted to Mark’s who wanted to hide his face behind his hands.
“Dude, don’t embarrass me like that,” he whimpered, and truth to be told, the sight was kind of funny.
And cute.
Good god, not cute.
Not… cute.
“I was just stating facts,” Johnny shrugged (though Mark couldn’t see it because he was covering his face with his hands), and gave you a knowing look before he went behind the counter to get started on your drinks.
It took Mark a few seconds to pull himself together and be able to look you in the eyes. Not that you would take it the wrong way that you were the first girl he brought here. In fact, it showed you that he wasn’t the womanizer type, and this wasn’t the place he frequently brought girls to. Not that you were on a date or anything, but it was good to know. He could get a cookie point for it on your non-existent nice guy chart.
“Sorry about that. He’s too…”
“Honest?”
Mark let out a semi-awkward giggle before he answered.
“Well… yeah.”
It was evident from the way they interacted with each other that their friendship was very brotherly. Which made you curious about how they had met because Johnny did look older than him, and they apparently didn’t work at the same place either.
So you decided to ask the boy about it and he let you know that he actually lived across the street when he was at uni. Johnny had already worked here back then, and they had become friends almost immediately.
“Sometimes I feel like he treats me as if I was his little brother. Which is funny because neither of us have any siblings,” he shared casually before asking if you had siblings.
“I have a sister, but we don’t really talk to each other when it’s not necessary. She’s always been the favourite child and I was not.”
“Oh, shoot, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you didn’t. I’ve never mentioned it, and it’s not your fault that it’s the way I was brought up,” you pointed out, your voice measured.
Others’ pity didn’t help your situation, but you had learned how to be okay with that. It took you a long time, but by disappointing people around you, you actually became the happiest, most authentic version of yourself. Turns out not everyone loved you for who you really were when you finally spoke up, stood up for yourself and chased your own dreams, but that was on them, not you.
“Still. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Mark said so apologetically that coupled with his big doe eyes, you found it difficult to contain the stoic facade you usually had on.
“It’s okay, Mark. It really is,” you reassured him, your voice more gentle than ever before.
The moment was interrupted by Johnny who showed up with the drinks, his eyebrows furrowed when he caught sight of your facial expressions.
“I’m sensing a tense atmosphere here. What happened?” Johnny asked first thing first as he started serving you the drinks.
“Nothing,” you said in unison with Mark, but that just made Johnny more suspicious. He squinted his eyes as he looked between you two before turning towards you.
“Let me know if you ever need better company than Mark’s.”
“Dude!” Mark said in that boyish, whining voice of his, and for the first time that day, you found yourself smiling at their antics. That seemed to put Johnny’s mind at ease because he walked up to another table instead, a smile hiding in the corner of his lips.
As you turned back to Mark, you prompted him to show you the songs that he had prepared.
“Oh, right. The songs. Silly me. That’s what we’re here for,” he singsonged giddily before he opened his laptop and smashed his keyboard a few times a bit too enthusiastically.
You brought your own noise-cancelling headphones, so after pairing it with his device, he started playing the songs for you one by one. You listened attentively, taking a few notes in your trusty notebook, and you discussed your feedback in between songs. Mark really did appreciate your comments, and he never seemed offended by what you said. Which was a relief because you hated men who told you how you should feel.
However, at one point, you couldn’t help but chuckle and slid your headphones off because you couldn’t continue with the song.
“What is this ‘long ass ride’ part?”
“Ah well…” He let out an awkward little giggle, his hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is it bad?”
He blinked back at you with those chocolate-brown eyes of his, worried as if you were about to say that it was the worst piece of songwriting you had ever encountered in your entire life. He really did look so innocent at times.
“It was certainly… surprising,” you decided on the appropriate word before adding with a shrug. “But it’s not really a love song either way, so I guess it’s fine.”
He seemed so relieved by your comment that he gifted you with the widest, happiest smile you had seen from him, and you instinctively followed. How on Earth did this guy have this effect on you?
Either way, you weren’t here on a date, so your smiles didn’t mean anything. Even if Mark turned out to be a nice guy, it didn’t mean that you were in love with him or something. You had so many bad experiences with men around you (even without dating them) that you couldn’t just fall for a guy like him.
Interestingly so, even if you were neighbours with Mark, you didn’t usually bump into each other in the neighbourhood. Which was funny because you had a downstairs neighbour, Xiaojun, who lived together with his friend, Ten (and Ten’s three cats), and you always bumped into him when he was taking his dog for a walk. At least his dog (Bella) was pretty quiet, so her barking didn’t disturb the peace of the apartment, but you just couldn’t imagine how two guys with four pets managed to live together.
Either way, that particular Friday night, you spotted Mark sitting by himself beside the windows at the local GS25 with a steaming bowl of noodles in front of him. He seemed quite deep in thought or maybe he was in a bad mood. Either way, something in you moved at the boy’s apparent lack of spirits, and you decided to sit beside him when you were done filling up your own plastic cup with water.
“Hi Mark!” You greeted the boy as you halted beside him, but he just kept staring ahead, so you cleared your throat and repeated yourself.
He snapped his head back when he heard you, and gave you an apologetic smile.
“Oh hey, Y/N! I’m so sorry. I was totally zoning out. My bad.”
“It’s okay,” you shrugged because it was no big deal, really. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”
“Not at all,” Mark replied immediately and shook his head. He even adjusted his chair, so that you could have enough space for yourself by the table even though there was already plenty to begin with.
You were never really one to comfort people, especially not men. However, Mark had been nothing but kind and supportive towards you, and you felt like fighting anyone who might have caused his smile to turn into a frown, so you couldn’t help but inquire if everything was alright.
“Ah yeah… I just…” He started cautiously, scratching the back of his neck out of nervousness. He was usually bubbly and talkative, so seeing him not just nervous but sad as well did not sit right with you. “Well, a lot of my songs were rejected at today’s meeting, and it felt… not so good. They just said that the songs wouldn’t fit the artists they wanted them for, but no constructive feedback was given. And that wasn’t so helpful, you know? Like… how else am I going to… you know… improve?”
He was trying to hide behind a nervous chuckle, but you could tell that his features were solemn instead of soft and he was clenching his jaw as well. He was so not fine despite wanting to appear fine in front of you.
“And I know it’s silly because my songs get rejected all the time because that’s how the industry works, you know? Usually, it doesn’t affect me either. But today, it just hurt,” he admitted, his voice becoming quieter and quieter by the end of his monologue.
Then, he sucked in a deep breath, and if nothing had happened, he turned his head towards you and forced a smile onto his lips.
“How about you though? I’m sure you have bigger problems than I do,” he tried to direct the conversation elsewhere as soon as the confession was out, but you didn’t have any of it.
“Mark…” You started tentatively, trying to think about your wording, so you would get the message across and he wouldn’t feel even more disheartened. “It’s okay to talk about yourself. It’s okay if something hurts you even if you usually don’t take such things to heart. But it’s not okay to belittle your own problems because you think that someone else has bigger problems. Okay? You are a completely different person and you have a completely different life. There’s no use in comparing us to one another.”
This was something that you had to learn the hard way, and you wanted nothing more than to see everyone else adopt this mindset, too. The world would be a much better place if people didn’t bring each other down but rather celebrated each other’s success. Everyone was on such different paths, there was literally no use comparing yourself to others.
You used to compare yourself to your sister as well, wondering why she was the favourite child and why you weren’t, but as years went by and you started to become more in tune with your own emotions, you realised that you were chasing a fantasy. Sisterhood should have never been about being in a race or a competition, and even if it was, being second place didn’t mean that you were a bad person. It just meant that your parents created the rules differently for your sister.
Mark’s shoulders visibly slumped in ease and he unclenched his jaw. His lips began to form a pout and he let out a sigh before he spoke up.
“You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I guess it’s just hard since I’m surrounded by dudes all the time. They don’t really like to talk about emotions,” he pointed out what you had already assumed, but you were glad that he drew that conclusion himself.
“That’s why you’re better than them,” you blurted out without thinking twice about it, and Mark’s face literally reddened hearing your words.
“Oh, so you think I’m not like other boys?” He teased you playfully, the dimples around his lips deepening. The sudden change in his behaviour put your mind at ease, but being called out didn’t feel so good, so you turned back to your noodles and urged the boy to do the same before his food would get cold.
While having cheap convenience store food, you talked about everything from work to hobbies, misogyny to sustainability, childhood memories to future goals. Mark was an easy person to talk to because he had something to say about everything, but you meant it in the best way possible. He wasn’t trying to mansplain anything, he was rather conversational and curious, and someone willing to share so much about his life. He never wanted to tell you what you should think even if you didn’t agree with him on something, and he was such a down-to-earth person. A guy who was down-to-earth… now that was a big thing in your eyes.
He was also really funny and had a childlike innocence to him. He also used big hand gestures and made funny noises when reacting to things. You couldn’t really put it into words, but the way he saw the world was both mature and full of that kind of curiosity that kids possessed. You had long lost that kind of curiosity in the world, in the little things in life, in the positivity hiding behind the negativity. You were usually focused on major problems like global warming and gender inequality, but he did see the good in everyday interactions and he did see the good in people. You wished that you could see the world through his eyes a bit more, too.
After talking for what felt like hours, you ended up walking home together, but before you would have opened the door to your flat, Mark called after you and thanked you for today.
“Anytime,” you responded with a smile, and you were surprised to realise that you were actually being serious.
You didn’t help Mark with his lyrics to get something in return, but the boy kept telling you that he wanted to repay you, especially after doing a couple more sessions together when you helped him finetune his words.
Obviously, Johnny was there to witness the other sessions too, and you caught him staring at you two whenever he wasn’t serving customers. Which could have been scary and outright creepy under different circumstances, but he was a nice guy, and he really acted like a big brother to Mark, so you had a feeling that he was just watching over you two. Plus, you generated some extra income for him and the coffee shop because the sessions did stretch for a couple of hours at times, so he really couldn’t complain.
At first, the boy just kept dropping things off in front of your door - such as your favourite brand of mango juice or your favourite flavour of Pepero -, then, he kept paying for your drinks at the coffee shop. Then, he ended up asking you if he could take you somewhere, but it would be a secret, so you couldn’t know beforehand where it was. When you told him that you hated surprises, he insisted that you would enjoy it.
And oh boy, was he right… Because the guy literally took you to the very same exhibition that you had wanted to attend the day later, the one about gender inequality globally and in Korea, dissecting topics like the underfunding regarding women’s healthcare research, gender pay gaps in the workplace, the freedom (or the lack thereof) of women’s clothing choices back in the day vs modern times and such. It was an exhibition put together by sociology students from two Korean universities and their partner universities in Europe, and displayed at an art gallery where mostly men’s art pieces were shown, further encouraging conversation around these issues.
“You like it?” Mark inquired tentatively when you set foot inside the art gallery (after getting lost because he was terrible with directions), and when you looked at him, he appeared genuinely nervous, biting down on his lower lip as if he was ready for a scolding.
Which, to be fair, wasn’t unwarranted coming from you, but this time, your lips curled into a smile, and your voice was free of sarcasm when you admitted:
“I love it! This is an exhibition I’ve also wanted to attend!”
“Oh my gosh, really?” Mark’s eyes widened to twice their size before he let out a joyous giggle. “Gosh, I’m so relieved. I was scared for a second when you didn’t say anything,” he confessed truthfully, his eyes twinkling with mirth. You joined in on the laughter before sharing with him that you were actually at a loss for words because you were surprised that he knew about this event in the first place.
Mark chatted your ears off about how he had come to find out about this exhibition, and what other ideas he had in mind to repay you for your help. Some were more fitting for your personality than others, and you laughed when he mentioned that it had even crossed his mind that you should have attended one of Johnny’s barista workshops because he was sure that you wouldn’t hear the end of it from the older guy if you had ended up attending it. Though Mark was more afraid of embarrassing himself in front of you (and Johnny) than you actually being there with him.
The exhibition was fascinating, but Mark’s presence did make it even better because he was his usual curious self and oftentimes asked you if you felt the same way about the experiences that were shared or admitted that he didn’t even know about such inequalities when it came to women. Most men you knew would never admit that they were in the wrong, but he was unashamed about it, and you loved that about him.
Wait, what?
Love?
No, nope… not in that way, of course. You loved that about his personality, that was a better way to put it.
After the exhibition, you headed to a coffee shop together, and as you were waiting for your drinks to arrive, you asked the question that had been on your mind for quite some time now.
“Why don’t you ask about it?”
“About what?” He asked back, his eyebrows furrowed in question. He looked genuinely perplexed, but you were more surprised by the fact that he hadn’t yet inquired about the reason behind your hatred towards men.
“About why I hate men so much,” you stated (what seemed like) the obvious, and his features softened hearing your words.
“You don’t have to tell me anything that you aren’t comfortable sharing. Besides, I’m sure you have your own reasons, I know some men can be real jerks,” he shrugged as if it was common knowledge, but yet again, you were at a loss for words because how could you object? How could you go against his words?
You simply couldn’t because he was yet again being understanding and empathetic, and given that you had not really encountered men who had admitted such things, you weren’t sure how to react. On the other hand, you were saved by the barista who showed up with your drinks, and gave you some time to think.
You decided on telling him the reason either way. About how you had not had a positive male figure growing up; about your father’s obsession with getting you into engineering and his disapproval when you had chosen to do a degree in finance; about your grandfather never really caring about you even before he became an alcoholic; about your uncles being lazy and controlling and not helping out their wives at home, even when they had kids they could have taken care of. You had talked about high school classmates who had objectified women and watched porn during breaks besides the sports field, and men during your time abroad who had looked down on you simply because you were a woman studying finance.
Mark was big on reactions, and even though he was listening attentively, he couldn’t hold himself back from saying things like “Whaaaat, that’s crazy” or “Oh my god, are you being for real? That’s insane” when you had told him what you had been through. Of course, not every single male had been a complete jackass in your life, and you made sure to point that out, but the ones who should have been role models and who should have set good examples were exactly the ones that had made you feel small, uncared for and easy to control.
Mark apologised on behalf of all the men who had wronged you before, and said that he completely understood why you acted the way you did. Then, he added that he hoped that he could set a good example, and show you that not all men were bad.
“Don’t worry. You aren’t in that category,” you eased his nerves as you turned towards him, and he gifted you with the kind of smile that also made his dimples visible.
“I’m glad then.”
So were you.
But you were equally concerned about what your feelings might have been hinting at, and you weren’t sure that you were ready to face them head-on, so you turned back to nursing your drink instead, and let the conversation steer towards a different topic.
One would think that just because you hated most men, you also hated romcoms.
However, you were actually a big fan of romantic movies, dramas and books because fictional men were way better than real ones. Fictional men couldn’t cheat on you, disrespect you or disappoint you as real men could, so what could go wrong?
That Friday too, you were binge-watching a newly dropped Netflix series when you heard muffled sounds from the corridor. You usually didn’t pay attention to such noises because you lived with others, so it was natural that they made some noise. Mark was usually quiet, but it was odd that he would talk to someone outside of his flat for more than a few minutes close to midnight.
So after you gave it a couple more minutes, you decided to look through your peephole to see what Mark was doing, and realise that he was actually not with someone, he was talking to himself.
The boy was swaying in front of his front door, dramatically clutching his chest while singing something about not remembering the numbers (what a weird thing to sing about), and you could already tell from his miniature version through the peephole that he was drunk.
You opened your door much to the boy’s surprise who almost stumbled over his own feet when he turned around to face you.
“Oh heeey theeeeere,” he singsonged giddily and hiccuped after his words.
You rolled your eyes at his antics but to be fair, you were more afraid of him falling down the stairs than him making a bigger fool out of himself.
“What are you doing out here, Mark?”
He pouted like a little child, his eyes shining dreamily, and even his cheeks were tinted pink, so there was no way you would not call the sight cute even though he had very obviously underestimated his limit and you usually didn’t condemn such behaviour.
“I forgot the numbers to my doorlock,” he whimpered, looking back at his front door with such a sad expression that you would have thought somebody died.
Oh, so those were the numbers he was singing about…
You tried to ask him if it was his birthday or his parents’ birthday or anything like that, but he said that he had tried everything that he could think of. He faintly remembered having it changed recently, but he couldn’t recall as to what the new combination was.
“Oh my god… do you think I’m going to have to sleep on the streets? Alone? In the rain?”
His voice was so desperate (yet dramatic), you had a feeling that his tipsy self actually believed it to be true. That’s when you noticed that he was already wet, tiny raindrops sitting on his pitch-black hair, and the sleeves of his puffer jacket was darker than usual.
“Stupid, stupid me… why did I change the numbers? I mean, I had to… for security reasons or whatever the doorlock company said, but argh…”
Mark continued acting like a child, complaining about his lack of memory regarding the new combination, but when he started saying that he will just sleep on the floor in the corridor, an alarm went off in your head, and you immediately said something that you would have never thought you would say to a man:
“Are you crazy? Stay at my flat instead!”
Despite his drunken state, the guy looked as shocked as his sober self would, and his eyes widened as well. Then, he drooped his head low and mumbled something akin to:
“But I don’t want you to hate me.”
“Don’t be silly! I don’t hate you, and you better believe it because I wouldn’t offer such a thing to someone I hate,” you stated matter-of-factly.
He still seemed pretty reluctant, but when you opened the door wider to let him inside, he tentatively walked in and immediately started taking off his shoes. Gosh, he had manners even when he was drunk…
You gave him a pair of unused slippers, and beckoned him inside. He looked around as if he was Alice in Wonderland while you were busy getting him some water and some towels for his hair from the bathroom. When you went back to the living room, he was sitting on your couch, looking at a framed photo of you with your peers on your graduation day abroad.
“There were so many guys in your class just like you’ve said,” he pointed out when you put the glass of water on the table in front of him. It was pretty amusing that he remembered such a small thing that you had said to him a while aho but not his new doorlock combination.
“Groupworks were pretty gruesome. None of the guys really wanted to pull their weight.”
“Ah, such a shame…” Mark noted as he put the photo back on the table. “Your parents must have been so proud,” he added as he turned towards you, but when he saw the change in your expression, he hit his forehead with his right hand. So dramatic, even when tipsy!
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry. I just remembered that your father didn’t approve of your studies. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s alright. My mother actually said that she was proud of me when I graduated, so there’s that,” you shared with him, and that seemed to put his mind at ease.
Instead of dissecting your graduation story, you inquired why he had been drinking so much. He said that one of his songs got an award, and he was really proud of it, but because he wasn’t the artist, he wasn’t invited to the ceremony, and only got to know about it at work, so he and his colleagues went out for some drinks to celebrate.
“I swear I started with apple juice!” He tried to save some face, but you just shook your head.
“Sure…” You replied, but there was a smile in the corner of your lips. “Now, dry your hair and drink some water!” You practically ordered him, but you didn’t want him to catch a cold. Or to wake up with a throbbing headache tomorrow morning.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He saluted for you and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight. Gosh, he was really something.
However, Mark was quite childish when tipsy, and though he did gulp down the glass of water you had given him, he was fussy about the towels. He said that he wasn’t even that wet and that he was actually more sleepy than cold, but you just rolled your eyes at him as you reached for the towel.
“At least don’t wet my couch,” you reprimanded him before starting to dry his hair yourself, but you realised at the same time as him how awfully domestic this scene was because he suddenly seemed all too sober, his foggy expression replaced by a surprised one.
However, instead of making a comment on your odd behaviour, he blurted out something that no one had ever told you before.
“I’m so sorry that men have been such jerks to you. You deserve better. You’re such a wonderful person,” he confessed gently, and though it was rare that you were rendered speechless by a man’s actions, you were unable to form a response. What is more, you felt a squeezing sensation around your heart.
You were staring into each others’ eyes for what felt like an eternity before his sudden hiccups ruined the mood and you decided to drop the towel on the edge of the couch. The boy picked it up himself this time and ended up drying his hair to a pretty chaotic mess but at least it wasn’t wet anymore.
“The bathroom is to the right. If you need anything, just knock on my door. I’m a pretty light sleeper,” you told him before turning away and closing yourself in your room, your heart hammering away rapidly.
Thankfully, Mark didn’t make things awkward the next day. He profoundly apologised for his behaviour and ended up gifting you a hamper box as a token of his apology two days later with all your favourite things (which, by this point, didn’t surprise you because he was perceptive like that).
On the other hand, you weren’t sure what to do with your feelings because surely, you should have been frustrated, angry and disappointed. You never liked people who drank too much (mostly because of your grandfather), and you definitely wouldn’t let just any man sleep over at your place. However, Mark was not just any man, and somehow, his tipsy antics didn’t put you off. Rather, you found it endearing. The thought itself should have disgusted you, and you were very surprised by how you were feeling, so you tried to give yourself enough time to ponder over it.
After all, Mark was the first and only guy you let close to yourself, and he went against anything you had against men in general. He had never acted like a walking red flag, had never disrespected you (or for that matter, any women), and he had seemed so genuine, you were sure that he wasn’t just acting. He was curious and empathetic, and yes, he was a bit silly and childlike, but not in a bad way.
On the other hand, you had always been alone, and your experiences with men were rather disappointing, so you had never imagined yourself beside anyone, let alone a man. You had never liked any boy either, not as a crush, not as a boyfriend. You had been perfectly fine on your own, and even though admitting to yourself that you liked Mark was nowhere near a confession, you were kind of torn about what the next step should be. After all, just because you liked Mark didn’t mean that he liked you back even though his words and actions sometimes made you think so.
Your unsaid questions were answered when you bumped into Xiaojun one day who was taking Bella on a walk while you were walking back to your flat after work.
“Hey, Y/N!” The guy greeted you cheerily, and as he halted in front of you, Bella also followed suit and started sniffing your shoes enthusiastically.
“Hi Xiaojun!” You greeted him back before crouching down to pet his dog. Sometimes you wondered if your love for dogs replaced your love for men because you sure would have liked spending more time with dogs.
You had a little chit-chat about work and Bella before Xiaojun’s question made you freeze for a moment.
“You’re coming to Hendery’s wedding, right?”
“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows in question, sending him a deadpan look.
“Hendery and Ahyun’s wedding, you know,” he looked back at you quizzically, but that didn’t help your case one bit. You still had no idea what he was talking about. The name ‘Hendery’ rang a bell (was it one of Mark’s colleagues?), but the girl’s name… not so much.
“I don’t know whom you are talking about.”
The guy let out a surprised ‘huh’ before he asked a question that yet again made you confused.
“Mark hasn’t asked you to be his plus one yet?” He quirked an eyebrow, but you just shook your head hearing his words.
You stopped petting Bella to be able to stand up and look him in the eye for further explanation. As if hit by lighting, the guy hit his forehead with his hand before he exclaimed as if he had set something on fire:
“Oh shit… I shouldn’t have told you that. Mark asked me to keep it a secret.”
He looked genuinely remorseful, but you were more intrigued by the ‘why’ behind Mark’s actions than Xiaojun’s guilt.
“Why would he want to bring me as a plus one though?” You questioned as you laced your arms in front of your chest, becoming uneasy.
You were sure that you had not met the said Hendery or the said Ahyun, but if Mark wanted to bring you as a plus one to their wedding, he must have been serious about it. He wasn’t flimsy about these things, especially because he knew how much you hated surprises and last minute plans.
“Because he likes you,” Xiaojun shrugged as if it was common sense, but when he caught sight of your flushed cheeks and your surprised expression, he hit himself on the forehead yet again.
“Damnit, I shouldn’t have told you that either. He hasn’t told you yet how he feels, has he?” He asked for confirmation, and you shook your head in return.
He let out an aghast sigh, so loudly that even Bella perched up, wondering what her owner was so dramatic about.
“Oh no… I just ruined everything for him. He said he wants to wait until he feels like you’re ready to hear his confession because he wants to respect your feelings, and he doesn’t want to force you to reciprocate his feelings. Oh gosh! Act like you haven’t heard anything,” he frantically shook his hands in front of his chest and immediately made an excuse about having to take Bella closer to a green area because she had that pooping face on her.
Poor dog looked so confused at the mention of her name, and though you knew Xiaojun was chaotic like this, you would have never thought that you would one day get to know that Mark liked you back thanks to his loose mouth.
The remaining question was how to let Mark know about it, too.
The thought of confronting Mark about what you had heard didn’t entirely scare you. It was rather unsettling because you had no idea how to bring up the topic and also admit that you liked him back without him thinking that you were joking.
You knew that you could come off rather standoffish and stiff, and you wanted nothing else than the boy to think that you weren’t serious or worse, that you wanted to make fun of his feelings. Of course, you didn’t care about men’s feelings on the daily because if they said something rude or misogynistic, women weren’t allowed to feel hurt, but if a woman said something slightly offensive about men, they were ready to start a revolution.
However, Mark was different. You had to realise that you did care about his feelings because he deserved it. That wasn’t an easy feat when it came to you, but you genuinely cared whether your words hurt him or not, because he was so gentle and kind and honestly too good for this world. You weren’t even sure how he had ended up liking you, but if he did, who were you to question his feelings? You felt the same way, so you should have been happy.
On the other hand, you had never done anything like this before, and being sentimental wasn’t your forte either. So you decided on sleeping on it, but it seemed like someone had other plans because Mark ended up knocking on your door about an hour after your encounter with Xiaojun.
You had just finished putting in a load of laundry and were about to have some dinner when you heard the frantic knocking on the door, and instead of a busybody neighbour fussing about the upcoming residents’ meeting or an elderly lady asking you to help her cat get off a shelf (both had happened before), it was the boy with the big doe eyes who turned up on the other side of your door.
“Hey! Do you have a minute?” Mark asked, panting as if he had run up the stairs. You furrowed your eyebrows in question, but he seemed rather indignant, so it was either about something unexpected or Xiaojun had confessed everything to him and he wanted to come clean.
Either way, you weren’t one to be suspicious of his intentions. Not anymore.
“Sure,” you bobbed your head and invited him inside.
You had not done so since the day he had drunkenly sung to himself in front of his own flat after forgetting the password to his doorlock, but you deemed this matter quite urgent and personal if he came up to your door without asking about it via text beforehand.
“Thanks,” Mark let out a long sigh before he walked inside.
You closed the door behind him and turned to him, totally expecting him to already make himself comfortable on the couch or maybe by the kitchen table, but instead, he just stood there, frozen, as if his mind had drawn a blank.
“Are you okay?” You quirked an eyebrow, slightly concerned. The boy, as if woken from a stupor, started talking so fast that you could barely follow.
“Look, I know that Xiaojun has told you about Hendery and Ahyun’s wedding. I know he has spilled the beans that I wanted to ask you to be my plus one. Hendery is one of my colleagues, by the way, he is a songwriter and producer on the team, and Ahyun, you probably know her by the name ‘Little Miss’. The solo singer, you know. Hendery has contributed to a lot of her songs as did I, as you know because you helped me with some of her lyrics…”
“Mark, breathe!” You reminded him with a slightly amused smile, and though the boy let his lips curl upwards for a few seconds, his features returned to solemn afterwards.
“So anyways, he’s also told me that he’s told you that I like you, and that’s why I wanted you to come with me to the wedding. But I was hesitant, and I am still hesitant whether you like me back, and you know that I would never, ever force you to do something that you don’t want to. Let that be accompanying me to the wedding or liking me back. And I also know how much you hate men and even though I like you that doesn’t mean that you have to like me, too. But since he’s already-”
“Mark, I like you, too,” you broke his monologue, but he was so lost in his own monologue that the words just seemed to fly over his head.
“Told me about what happened, I was like, might as well let her know that it’s cool if she doesn’t like me-” This was the point Mark’s whole demeanour changed, and the first flicker of hope glinted in his chocolate-brown eyes. “Wait, did you just say you like me?” His eyes grew to twice their size, completely appalled.
It was funny how much you had agonised over you finally coming clean with your feelings towards him, and yet, all it took was a simple sentence to actually make it real.
“Yes, I did. I like you too, Mark Lee.”
Mark was frozen for a moment, then he started giggling, and then, he finished off his performance with a long sigh. He shared with you that he had been running all the way from the first floor where he had talked to Xiaojun in-person after his friend had frantically texted him regarding your encounter with him.
“I could guess that much,” you blurted out with a smile, and that was enough to ease the tension in the air. The boy let out a chuckle before his lips finally pulled into a boyish grin.
“So are we good then?”
“We’re good,” you hummed. “And if the date is okay with me, I’ll be happy to be your plus one for the wedding,” you added on a second note, and he seemed like he had just won the lottery.
“Oh gosh, I can’t believe it! I’m so happy. I thought Xiaojun had blown up everything for me,” he admitted candidly, and you couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up in your throat.
“I mean, if he hadn’t told me that you like me, I might not have been sure enough to bring it up myself, so I think we should thank him one day,” you pointed out and even though you knew that Mark felt the same way, he went on a whole monologue about how long he had known that he liked you (since you had comforted him in the GS25 after his lyrics had been rejected without constructive feedback), and how he had even changed his doorlock’s password to the day that you two had met, but completely forgot about it when drunk, but was too ashamed to say anything about it afterwards, so he was glad that you didn’t ask about it.
“That’s so corny… but it’s also very much something that you would do,” you admitted before you asked the boy if he wanted to have some dinner with you.
Needless to say, he was more than happy to join you, and he even said that it was the best day of his life.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine. Let me know what you think. I'm always happy to hear your feedback. 😊
Header taken from this Mark vlog.
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➳ NCT masterlist
I started writing this story before Mark's announcement to leave NCT, so I will put the story into the NCT masterlist for the time being. However, I might move it to the 'Other' masterlist that contains soloists' stories and Kdrama fics in the future, so just a heads-up!
haechan. “you’ve got to be kidding me.” even the boy is surprised to hear him laughing mockingly. for haechan, how dare he ask you out when he’s right next to you? do you actually like him? you must be messing with him. pure arrogance—of course he’s not jealous, because if he were, then you’d be his girlfriend, and you’re not, but the thought of you being with someone else really bugs him. maybe next time he should fuck you so hard that you forget everyone but his name.
jeno. “she’s busy.” it’s hard to read his expression right now, but he hopes the other guy will feel intimidated enough by it that he’ll end up canceling his date with you; if not, then he’ll have to give him a reason to do so. he’s not the type to pick fights, and he’s certainly not possessive, but when it comes to you, he really wants to make it clear that you’re only available for him. no one else. he’ll spend the whole night looking for an excuse to beat the crap out of him, because then, you’d go with him to tend to his knuckles, and completely forget about that jerk.
mark. “ah, seriously?” after treating everything like a game and joking around, you’d think he wouldn’t act so hurt or offended, but he does. it was clear that there were no strings attached; he used to be fine with that because of the long list of women he had, but up until that moment, he hadn’t really stopped to think that you might also be also seeing people, let alone that you were doing it right there in front of him. he felt that if he didn’t overthink it and stayed oblivious, he could handle it, but he’s always known that you wanted to take things seriously, and he just wasn’t ready —until now.
chenle. “am i interrupting?” he is, in fact, and he couldn’t care less. he also doesn’t care that you’re giving him a look that’s somewhere between confused and angry, because the guy ends up backing off. maybe that means you both feel the same way about it. going out? no way. commitment wasn’t his thing and you knew it—maybe that’s why you were so eager to say yes to that loser. if you were talking about dating, chenle could take you on dates, but you didn’t want that, so don’t even dream of doing it with others, when the right thing is to do it only with him.
renjun. “she’s not interested.” he makes the guy leave before you have a say about it, and now he think he’s a douchebag. what if he did the wrong thing? suddenly he feels sick. of course he knew the whole thing was bound to end badly, because he’s the type to get swept up in fleeting feelings; he just wanted to at least have a chance, even if you were just using him. suddenly he feels the need to undo what he’s done because he knows you’re not gonna choose him. but why you end up laughing and then holding his hand, guiding him somewhere where you two can kiss?
jaemin. not a word about it except for the frightening vibe he gives off. even answering feels hard, and you end up stammering that you’ll think about it. jaemin won’t let you do that, of course. his plan is to get that idea out of your head by kissing you so hard that you forget you even thought it. still, it feels a little disheartening to think that you might have said yes. if he hadn’t been there, would you have agreed? if you hadn’t looked at him first, would you have said yes? damn, he must be falling for you, then.
jisung. “d’you want me to leave?” after planting a kiss on your lips right in front of the guy, he dares to look at him through his eyelashes while his arm wraps around your shoulders; there’s no way he’d actually leave the two of you alone at this point, right? he just hasn’t quite grasped the whole thing, he’s not cut out for casual things; he just wanted to try it because you suggested it. the last thing he knows is that he’s actually into you, unapologetically. he's just too afraid to ask, but if that’s what you really want it then he’s not gonna stand in the middle of you getting it. cause he wants you to be happy, and he knows he can’t give you that, because he’s not the best for you.
summary: the pastor’s son fucks you in the back room of the church, promising god’s forgiveness while ruining your last shred of purity.
pairing: mark lee x fem!reader
genre: smut, religious corruption, dark romance.
warnings: explicit sexual content, anal virginity, church setting, religious guilt, oral (m receiving), squirting, degradation, sacreligious language, coercion under trust, creampie, overstimulation, power imbalance, aftercare (light), public risk, no vaginal penetration.
part. ii - part. iii
MDNI 🔞
you had always been the image of virtue. ever since you were little, your life had revolved around the church—every sunday service, every youth retreat, every choir practice and prayer circle. your mother made sure you were dressed modestly, always with your bible tucked in your bag and your heart turned toward god. everyone in town knew your name, whispered it in admiration—such a good girl, they said. so devoted. so pure.
and mark lee... well, he was supposed to be the same. the pastor's son, golden and clean, always sitting in the front pew with his father’s bible open on his lap, eyes closed in pretend prayer. he smiled with soft dimples and spoke in warm, respectful tones that made your mother adore him instantly. she liked to say god had placed him in your path for a reason. and maybe that was true. maybe god had placed him there—to test you.
you hadn’t meant for anything to happen. it started so small, just conversations after service, long looks shared across the chapel, the brush of fingers when you passed him a hymnal. he was gentle at first, careful not to cross a line, but each moment alone with him felt like gravity pulling you closer. and when he kissed you the first time—behind the fellowship hall after bible study—you felt like the world stopped. his lips were warm and soft and sinful.
when you first started sneaking around with mark, things were softer. more innocent. you’d meet behind the church after evening mass, hiding between the tall hedges where no one could see you. he’d press gentle kisses to your lips, hold your hand tightly, whisper sweet nothings against your ear as if you were the most precious thing in the world.
he never rushed you—not at first. he’d just touch you over your clothes, his hands resting respectfully on your waist, sliding up under your blouse only when you let him. and each time you let him go a little further, his praise would melt you. you’re so good for me, baby. so sweet. so perfect.
the first time he touched you under your skirt, you thought your heart would stop. his fingers were warm, slow, exploring the damp heat between your thighs through your panties while he kissed your neck. you were shaking the whole time, clutching his shoulders like a lifeline as he whispered filth in your ear in that low, reverent voice of his.
god made this body just for me, didn’t he? you were meant to be mine.
the day you got on your knees for him was the day something shifted between you.
it was in the church parking lot, late at night, both of you hidden behind the youth ministry van. you’d been making out for too long, your thighs pressed together from the ache building inside you. his cock was hard against his jeans, and when he asked do you wanna try something new, baby?, you nodded without thinking.
he guided your hands to his zipper, helped you pull him out—long, thick, flushed at the tip. your breath caught when you saw it, your mouth already watering.
“just lick it for me,” he said softly, brushing your hair behind your ears. “just a little. just the tip.”
but it wasn’t just a little. not when you saw how much he wanted it, how his jaw clenched and his hands trembled when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock. you took him deeper, his praises growing filthier with every inch you swallowed. the taste of him was salt and skin, musky and intimate, and you moaned around him without meaning to.
he came down your throat that night, holding your head with both hands, whispering you’re so fucking perfect while you swallowed every drop. and afterward, he kissed you so gently you almost cried.
but still—you never let him go all the way.
you’d told him you were saving yourself for your husband. that you’d only give yourself completely after standing before god, in white, with a ring on your finger.
mark didn’t push. not exactly. but his hands got more confident, his touches more persuasive. and every time he left you trembling, wet, begging quietly into his mouth—he’d whisper:
“god will forgive you. he made you to want me”
now you were here, months later, hidden away in the church’s back room. it was where the choir robes were stored, a little room behind the altar with old wooden shelves and a dusty piano no one used anymore. you weren’t supposed to be here, not alone with a boy, not with him. but your hands were already shaking as he kissed down your neck, one of his palms pressed to the small of your back, keeping you pinned to the edge of the table.
“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, lips brushing against your ear, “so perfect, baby. you know how crazy you make me?”
you whimpered, fingers curling in the sleeves of his shirt. “mark... we shouldn’t. not here... not like this.”
his hands slid lower, gripping your hips. “why not? no one’s gonna find us. besides... god will forgive us. he always forgives. he sees love in our hearts. don’t you love me?”
you bit your lip, your whole body trembling with guilt and want. “i do... but i want to wait until we’re married. i want to give myself to my husband. i want god to bless it.”
his eyes darkened, not with anger but with something deeper—desire. temptation. “then marry me. i swear i will. you’re the only girl i want. but i want you now... please. just let me have a little more.”
“mark, i can’t...” your voice cracked, shame pooling in your chest. “it’s a sin.”
“he’ll cleanse us,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw, “he knows your heart. you’re doing this out of love. and he knows you’re still pure... if we don’t—if i don’t take you like that.”
you blinked at him, confused. “like what?”
he leaned in, his lips ghosting over yours. “i’ll still leave your virginity intact,” he murmured, hand slipping down between your thighs, pressing over your clothes, “you’ll still be untouched. we won’t do it the usual way. i’ll just take you here—” he kissed your cheek, “from behind.”
your breath caught.
“it won’t count,” he whispered, voice sweet like a prayer, “you’ll still be a virgin. still god’s perfect girl.”
you hesitated. the weight of every sermon you’d ever heard sat heavy on your shoulders. but his hands were on your body, and his mouth was on your throat, and your skin was burning. and deep down, there was something dark inside you that wanted it. something that pulsed every time he touched you, something that made your knees weak and your mind hazy.
“promise me,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “promise me you’ll marry me.”
he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “i promise. i’ll take you to the altar myself.”
and that was all it took.
your heart was pounding in your chest as he turned you around gently, his hands never leaving your body. the room was dim, lit only by the soft amber light that spilled through the stained glass near the door. you could hear your own breathing, shallow and fast, as mark guided you to lean over the wooden table. the old surface creaked under your weight, the air cool against your thighs as he slowly lifted the hem of your white sunday dress.
“look at you,” he murmured, voice husky now, more raw, more real. “so innocent. so ready to sin for me.”
his fingers trailed up the back of your thighs, calloused and warm, until he reached the soft curve of your ass. your panties were white, lace-trimmed—modest, sweet, something your mother had bought for you. but they were soaked through, and mark saw it right away.
“jesus,” he breathed, a smirk forming on his lips. “you’re dripping already, baby.”
you whimpered as he tugged them down, the delicate fabric catching around your knees before sliding all the way to your ankles. your cheeks burned with shame and arousal, both twisting deep in your belly as you felt the cool air kiss your now-bare skin.
“bend down for me,” he whispered, pressing between your shoulders until you were fully bent over the table, your elbows resting on the worn wood, your ass presented to him like an offering.
you felt him drop to his knees behind you, felt his hands spread you open, exposing every trembling inch. he kissed along the inside of your thighs, soft and slow, his tongue flicking dangerously close to where you ached. you gasped when you felt him spit between your cheeks, fingers guiding the wetness to your tight entrance.
“it’ll hurt a little,” he murmured, voice lower now, more dangerous. “but you can take it. you’re a good girl, right? you want to make me feel good?”
you nodded, your eyes closing, your hands gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles went white. “yes… i want to be good.”
“then stay just like that for me.”
he stood again, one hand gripping your waist as you heard the rustle of his belt, the soft clink of the buckle as he undid his pants. then his cock was pressing against you, thick and hot, the head teasing at your tightest spot.
you tensed.
“nghh—ahhh, too much—!”
“shh,” he said softly, kissing your shoulder. “relax for me, baby. let me in.”
he pushed slowly at first, and your breath caught in your throat as the stretch began—hot and burning, unfamiliar and intense. tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you whimpered, body trembling as he pushed further, inch by inch.
“m-mark—! it hurts—”
“shh, quiet, baby. you don’t want anyone hearing how much of a filthy little thing you are, do you?” once he was buried inside, he paused, letting you adjust, his fingers caressing your hips, your waist, whispering soft praises against your ear.
you could barely breathe as you felt every inch of him inside you, thick and pulsing, stretching you open in a way that made your entire body tense. your hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly that your wrists ached, your forehead pressed against the wood as your mouth hung open, panting through the pressure, through the sting. his hands were firm on your hips, thumbs digging into your skin as he stayed buried inside you, letting you feel the full weight of what you’d just done.
“fuck,” he whispered, voice reverent, almost in awe. “you’re squeezing me so tight. you feel like fucking heaven.”
you whimpered, a mix of pain and pleasure blooming in your belly like a wildfire. his hips rolled just slightly, testing how much you could take, and the slow friction made your knees shake. it wasn’t like anything you’d imagined. it wasn’t sweet or soft—it was raw and thick and full. your body fought to accommodate him, fluttering around the intrusion as he began to move in earnest.
“this is what you wanted. i’m just giving you what that virgin pussy of yours was too scared to handle.”
“mmph—! nghh—ahh—!”
“what was that? you like being stuffed full of my cock? like being my dirty little church whore?”
each thrust came a little deeper, a little harder, his pace increasing as the tightness began to melt into something warmer, wetter. you bit down on your lip, trying to stay quiet, but the sounds spilling from you betrayed how good it started to feel. shame pooled hot in your stomach, because it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. you weren’t supposed to like it.
“look at you,” he groaned, slamming into you harder now, one hand sliding up your back to grab a fistful of your hair. “moaning like a little slut while i fuck your virgin ass. does it feel good, baby? you gonna come for me like this?”
your mouth opened in a raw scream, half agony, half ecstasy, unable to hold back the flood of sound escaping you.
“oh my god, oh my god, it’s stretching me too much—!”
“jesus, you’re so fucking loud—shut up, baby, shut up.” he shoved your face down against the table, hand over your mouth again, his hips snapping harder.
“if anyone hears you, they’ll know how desperate you are to get fucked like this.”
you cried out as he pulled your head back, forcing your spine into a deep arch, making you feel every brutal thrust more sharply. the pain burned, yes, but under it was something more intense—your body trembling as a deep heat began to coil between your legs. your thighs were slick, your clit aching from how empty it felt, untouched but throbbing.
his balls slapped against you with each thrust, obscene sounds echoing in the small, sacred space of the church storage room. the smell of sweat and sex filled the air, mixing with the faint trace of incense that lingered on the choir robes stacked beside you. it was filthy. wrong. holy.
he let go of your hair and reached between your thighs, fingers finding your clit without hesitation. you sobbed as he rubbed fast, circles tight and relentless, and your hips started to jerk back against him on instinct, chasing something you didn’t fully understand.
“you’re gonna come,” he grunted, almost laughing, breath hot against your ear. “you’re gonna come like this, with my cock in your ass, right here in god’s house. fuck, baby... you’re perfect.”
“m-mark—i… i feel like i’m gonna pee—”
your vision blurred as your body locked up, tension snapping all at once in a flash of heat and shame and unbearable pleasure. your orgasm ripped through you like lightning, a violent gush exploding between your legs, spraying down your thighs and onto the floor with a loud, wet sound that shocked even you.
“jesus fucking christ—” he gasped, faltering for the first time as your body clenched around him like a vice, milking him deeper.
mark’s hips stuttered the moment he felt the rush of wetness pour out of you, his breath catching in his throat like he couldn’t believe what just happened. your body was shaking beneath him, trembling and spasming uncontrollably as your release coated your thighs, dripping messily down onto the floor. he pulled back just slightly to look, to see the way you squirted for him, your slick glistening under the dim church light.
“fuck, baby…” he groaned, sounding half-wrecked, half-awestruck. “you just—fuck—i made you do that?”
he grabbed your hips tighter, almost possessively, and slammed back into you, still deep in the grip of his own rising climax. your body was so sensitive now, every thrust making you jolt forward, your muscles twitching from the overstimulation. but he didn’t stop—not yet. he was chasing something now, something hot and desperate.
“you came so fucking hard,” he growled against your neck, his thrusts getting sloppier, deeper. “your little virgin body just squirted all over my cock… and you were so scared of sinning.”
you moaned weakly, your voice raw and broken, drool slipping from your lips as your cheek pressed flat against the table. your body felt like it was floating, skin hot and damp with sweat, your hole still stretched tight around him, sucking him in greedily every time he pulled back.
“mine,” he whispered like a prayer, fucking into you with final, brutal thrusts. “you’re mine. god can’t have you anymore. you belong to me.”
and then he came.
with a deep, guttural moan, mark buried himself inside you one last time and spilled everything into your ass—hot and thick, ropes of cum filling you until you could feel it dripping back out around his cock. his hips jerked as he emptied himself, one hand sliding up to hold your waist while the other rubbed your lower back in shaky, soothing circles.
he stayed inside you for a moment, breathing hard, chest rising and falling against your back, sweat clinging to both your skins. the room was quiet except for the sound of your combined breaths and the faint ticking of an old wall clock above the door.
you blinked slowly, still dazed, still trembling. and for a brief second, you felt completely hollow and completely full at the same time—ruined, marked, and claimed.
he pulled out slowly, and you whimpered at the emptiness, at the sticky warmth leaking down the back of your thighs. your body sagged against the table, weak and used, your legs barely holding you up. you could feel his release slipping from your hole, thick and hot, a constant reminder of what you’d let him do—what you’d begged him to do.
“stay still,” he murmured softly, voice gentler now, almost sweet. he reached for a folded choir robe from the shelf beside him, one of the ones no one ever used, and knelt behind you again. with quiet, careful hands, he cleaned the mess dripping down your thighs, the backs of your knees, and finally between your cheeks. he wiped away the cum from your entrance, his touch slow and reverent, like he was cleaning something sacred.
you flinched slightly, still too sensitive, and he pressed a kiss to your lower back. “i’ve got you,” he whispered. “you were perfect for me.”
when he was done, he helped you step back into your panties, tugging them up gently over your sore, sticky skin. he straightened your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles like he was tucking you back into your illusion of purity. then he kissed your cheek, your temple, your lips—slow and soft and careful, like he hadn’t just broken something inside you.
you both stood in silence for a moment, breathing slowly, the air still thick with the scent of sin and sweat.
and then he reached for his bible.
he tucked it under one arm and held out his other hand to you. you took it, fingers lacing with his, still trembling slightly. and together, you walked out of that little storage room, out into the bright white hallway of the church.
the front doors were open. sunlight poured in. a breeze moved through the sanctuary like nothing had happened.
as you stepped into the entryway, mark dipped his fingers into the small bowl of holy water near the door. he touched his forehead, chest, and shoulders, murmuring the sign of the cross with practiced grace. you followed suit, mimicking the motion, your fingers wet and cool against your burning skin.
no one would ever know.
you were still god’s children, still his favorites.
a/n: who else crying over chenle rn :/ inspired by this fic by the lovely @blue-jisungs <33 which is cutest thing ever :((
MARK
the first time you suddenly grab his face or smother him, he jumps. full startled laugh, eyes wide like, “oh...oh...- okay,” energy. but the moment he realizes it’s just you, that this was how your affection spiked, he’s done for. from then on, he just lets it happen. whatever you want. squish, bite, cling, he’s smiling softly, hands hovering like he doesn’t want to interrupt the moment.
he'll notice the way you stare a little too long, the way your hands flex like you’re holding yourself back. sometimes he’ll quietly step closer, lowering his head just enough for you to reach. when you squish his cheeks or press kisses everywhere, he just melts into it. he doesn’t interrupt. doesn’t tease. he just lets you love him. your affection genuinely feeds his own for you.
RENJUN
he's startled? yes. offended? also yes (performative men sighh)
you baby him, squish his cheeks, and he’s immediately like,“why are you doing this to me?” in his whiny voice :( but he never actually moves away. ever. your fingers in his hair, your hands warm against his cheeks, he pretends it’s annoying, he pretends to hate it, pretends you’re being ridiculous, but his hands relax, his shoulders drop, and his voice softens despite himself. he enjoys your touch deeply, he just refused to give you the satisfaction of knowing.
JENO
surprised puppy^^
the first few times, he’s stunned, eyes blinking, like he didn’t know he’d like being adored this openly. he wasn't used to this kind of affection.
but then he starts recognizing the signs fast. the way you inhale before acting. the tiny pause before you pounce. and he'd give you that soft, moon-eyed smile :(( right before you pounce almost like encouragement sobbing
he doesn’t stop you. just lets it happen and adores it. to him it's like your constant reminder that he's loved. and only you get this version of him <//3
HAECHAN
absolutely insufferable.
he never lets you forget he knows what he’s doing to you. the second you get grabby, he’s running his mouth, “wow, you love me that much?”, “what are you gonna do without me, huh?”
that smug little grin of his never leaves but his hands always find you. pulling you closer. keeping you there. he'll get pouty and exaggerate every reaction because he knows it makes you worse, and he wants you worse. he thrives on your attention, your affection, your inability to resist him. but like mark, this genuinely fuels his own affection for you <3
he's dramatic about you and he loves how obvious you are about him. later, when you’re calm again, he’s softer. quieter. though still smug. he feels chosen. and he loves that feeling more than he’ll ever admit.
JAEMIN
he lived for this.
you touch him and he’s already smiling, already leaning in. he knows he causes this reaction in you and he’s so fondly proud of it and knows exactly how to make it worse.
you squish his face? he squishes himself closer. you bite his cheek? he makes a noise dramatic enough for you to do it again.
will absolutely switch on his soft tone, that sweet voice, fully encouraging your cuteness aggression because he loves you loving him. (he's absolutely shameless with it). he just adores you so much genuinely gets cuteness aggression from the way how you get all fuzzy over him :(( he thinks it's the cutest thing ever and after a point it'll be you who's getting squished by him ^^
CHENLE
did not see it coming the first time.
you squish him once and he bursts into laughter, startled but bright, like joy just spilled out of him ☹️
he'll try to act unfazed later though, tries to act cool, but you read him too easily. but now, he gets giddy when you focus on him. tries to act casual, but the second your attention shifts away for too long, he gets a little sulky (rarely an issue) not angry, just needy in that soft, obvious way. he wants your eyes on him. your hands on him. he never doubts your love. he feels it constantly. and he returns it just as openly <3
JISUNG
shy baby :(((
total short-circuit, red ears, brain offline the first time it happened. he’s more used to it now, can even sense when you’re about to do it, but he never stops being shy about it.
he stays shy, always. hands hovering awkwardly, eyes darting away, but he never refuses you. when you smother him with affection, he leans in quietly. and while you’re busy squishing his cheeks or pulling at him, he’s thinking you’re the cutest thing he’s ever seen. quietly hopes you'll do it again soon <//3
⪩⪨ Operation: First Kiss - @ncityrave (Mark turns to his friends for help to build up the courage for his relationship's first kiss.)
⪩⪨ Sunday Kind of Love : Frat Mark - @smileysuh (Mark is fine with having a crush on the girl in the library. He’s fine watching her from afar. And he’s fine with never speaking a word to the girl who he spends many nights chasing in his dreams. But fate, and a few nosey frat brothers, think Mark would be much better if he was forced to talk to the cute girl from the library that he can’t seem to get out of his head.)
⪩⪨ tis the damn season - mark smau - @najaemism (in which your ex-boyfriend comes back to your hometown—and he wants to talk to you.)
⪩⪨ Delphinium - @ncteez (It wasn’t intentional. You don’t even know why you cared that he didn’t believe in pre-marital sex, but it didn’t stop you from arguing with him about it. You didn’t intend to win the argument either. Then again, he kind of let you.)
⪩⪨ 9:10 PM - @neochan (possessive! mark)
⪩⪨ WITH YOU | MK.L - @sehunniepotwrites (There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.)
⪩⪨ spidey boy ; 이민형 - @martiniblues (mark has tried to hide his secret identity from you for as long as possible, to keep you safe, of course. little does he know that you’ve untangled his web of lies long ago and will do anything in your power to get him to admit it. just when you've had enough of him lying to you, he ends up getting caught in the act trying to save your life.)
⪩⪨ eyes on me. (m.l) - @mrkis (mark wants you to keep your eyes on him as he pleases you.)
⪩⪨ GOLDEN HOUR. | L.MK - @onyourhyuck (You’re a waiter and Mark Lee the local biker and infamous bad boy loves the eggs your diner makes, but now he wants a taste of you.)
⪩⪨ madly in love - mark lee - @p0ckykiss (mark had always been the hopeless romantic type)
⪩⪨ it’s too bad you’re married to me | m.l - @yojeongin (all mark ever does is use weaponized incompetence to get out of small tasks you ask of him. when he finally realizes you resort to his close friends to do what he can’t— nothing can prepare him for what’s in your pandora box; now karma is set in motion.)
⪩⪨ Pretty Boy. (m.l) - @ncteez (Mark’s favorite thing to do is sit alone at the library and enjoy the knowledge that his university offers. In contrast, your favorite thing to do is go to parties and enjoy as much chaos as possible. However, upon realizing your grades have dropped drastically due to this lifestyle, you have no choice but to approach Mark for help. or the one where your new favorite thing to do is seduce the most inexperienced man you’ve ever met and watch how desperate he gets for you.)
⪩⪨ gelato | lmk - @hazyhae (a high slip up cost you mark lee years ago, and you’ve spent years burying your memories of him ever since. the universe has other plans for you when your old friend starts a new career, smoking his way back into your life.)
⪩⪨ ꒰ 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ꒱ 이민형 - @loserlvrss (one thing about your boyfriend, mark, is that he would always take care of you — even if you were annoyingly drunk — and he was embarrassingly in love)
