JUNGWOO For PERIPERA

JUNGWOO for PERIPERA

churchboy!mark always wanted to save his virginity until marriage. he was always keen on the idea of falling in love, graduating college, and then eventually getting married to the love of his life. it was all set in stone until he met you.

here you were, climbing on top of his body and setting your legs on either side of his thighs. his body pushed back to the soft mattress that engulfed his body. he propped himself up with his arms, breathing heavily as you placed soft kisses on his jaw, slowly trailing down his neck.

“fuckkk, y/n.” he breathed out as your hands slowly made their way to the waistband of his pants.

“tell me if you want to stop.” lifting your head up to face him, he quickly shook his head, no way in hell was he rejecting this hot girl sitting on top of him. pecking his lips, you reassured him with a sweet smile. “good boy, markie.”

mark let out a groan, lifting his body so that he could wrap his arms around your waist. pressing your lips together in a passionate needy kiss. you tasted like heaven. in swift movements, you were both stripped out of your clothes. his eyes taking in every inch of your body, his cock pressed against his stomach from the view in front of him. you pushed his body back down onto the bed, biting your lip at the sight of him practically drooling beneath you.

“you're so fucking hot.” feeling shy from his compliment, your hands reached up to cover your face, but his hands caught your wrist before you even got the chance to. “don't hide from me, pretty girl.” your eyes shifted to his, his cheeks flushed and beads of sweat gathering at his forehead. 

you leaned down to plant another kiss on his lips, your hand making its way to his cock which he moaned to when your thumb glided across his tip, precum spewing out. you looked at him for assurance, and once he gave you a nod, you lifted your body and lined his cock to your pussy, slowly sinking onto him. 

mark let out breathy shakes, his eyes watching as his cock buried into you. his mind was clouded with all different kinds of unreligious thoughts, cursing himself for waiting this long. you were so wet and tight all for him. his hands reached for your hips, holding you in place as he tried to take in the new sensation he was feeling. “are you okay, baby?” placing your hands atop his heaving chest. 

“shit, it feels so good, oh my gosh, you're so tight.” he moaned out as you slowly started bouncing on his cock. you found it cute how he can curse but refused to use the lord’s name in vain. “w-wait fuck, y/n, i might cum.” his hand gripped your hips.

“it's okay, baby, take your time.” his mouth agape as he guided your hips up and down his cock. you let out a whimper at the feeling of his cock hitting you in all the right places. he nearly choked when you started picking up the pace again. his hands left your hips and found their way towards your breasts, hands squeezing your perky tits as they bounced along while you rode his dick.

mark’s brows furrowed as he felt his stomach contracting, you can feel his cock throbbing inside you. you leaned down and latched your mouth on his neck, leaving soft kisses while you continued to ride out his high. he whimpered when you started grinding your hips against his cock instead of bouncing on it. “y/n, i-i’m gonna cum, please.” he cried out. his heart beating so fast from the intensity he was feeling. he felt you clench around him, signaling that you were close and this brought him over the edge. he gripped your hips, pulling you off of his cock as he felt his orgasm, his warm cum spilling all over his dick and stomach.

you placed your hands against his sweaty chest. sending him a smile before leaning down and pecking his cheek. “now i understand the hype because holy shit.” he breathed out which made you laugh.

it’s the way I need him so bad I’m bout to end my shit 😭😭😭😭😭😭

18+. mdni.

riding bf!mark because he doesn't give you enough attention :(

.

lately, mark seems to be always working, spending the majority of his time on his computer with his headphones covering his ears. he gets totally immersed in his work, and even though it’s a good thing, he also forgets about the world around him, including you. 

mark sure gives you a lot of attention on a daily basis — with a high sex drive like his, he needs you all the time — but he can easily go a day without thinking about anything else other than his current project. he’s someone who’s very passionate about what he does.

so you miss him a lot on those days.

but honestly, if you want attention, you simply have to ask for it. mark isn’t difficult to convince, especially if it involves fucking. 

“mark.”

upon hearing your voice calling him, he only answers a ‘yeah?’, not looking away from the screen in front of him. but feeling your hand laying down on his shoulders distracts him enough to glance your way and he’s surprised to see what you’re wearing, cock jumping in his shorts.

“what’s up?” he asks with raised eyebrows, trying to keep his cool, but his mind goes wild instantly. it really doesn’t take him a lot.

dressed in a satin robe, the long sleeves draping over your arms and the belt tied around your waist, you don’t answer him and instead pull his headphones off his head. you straddle his legs and sit on his lap.

“miss you,” you simply say.

“ah, i’m sorry. i- i’ve just been…” he pauses for a moment, watching your hands untying the knot of your robe. “caught up, with, um… work.”

“can you make some time for me, then?” you taunt, the knot now undone, nothing keeping your robe from opening and revealing your nude body underneath. 

“of course, baby,” mark breathes out, satisfied to see you pulling the sides of the bathrobe apart, tits and stomach uncovered, naked pussy sitting right on top of his clothed cock. shit.

he can’t help himself from grabbing the back of your neck and bringing your lips to his, kissing feverishly. you moan into his mouth, hands on his chest, fumbling the fabric of his graphic tee between your fists. 

he kisses you until you’re a disheveled mess, lips swollen and glossy from both of your saliva. you move your hips back and forth , basically humping his bulge, until you reach down to pull on his shorts, impatient to take his cock out. 

he lets go of your lips when your hand wraps around his length, slumping down against the chair’s back. his glasses slip down his nose a little while he has his mouth open, letting out heavy breaths. 

mark groans when you spit in the palm of your hand, smearing your saliva all over his cock, slowly pumping it to make it hard. 

“gonna ride me, baby?” mark looks into your eyes, his lenses reflecting the ceiling light, eyebrow lifted up. 

you grin, twisting your wrist, wanting his cock as hard as possible like you know it can be. rock hard, like he loves to tell you when he’s got a boner in the middle of the day for no apparent reason other than ‘was thinking about you’.

“yeah,” you confirm, “gonna make it wet and messy,” you tease, a small smile adorning your lips. 

“you’d like that, hm? little minx,” he lightly chuckles, wetting his lips with his tongue, laying his big hands on your hips as you lift them up. 

you bring his cock to your cunt, tapping his head against your clit and passing it through your wet pussy lips. with the curse he lets out, you know he’s pretty sensitive now. you can feel it; he’s heavy and hard, ready to be snuggled between your walls.

you slowly sink down on him, taking your time while he stretches you out deliciously. you both moan in unision, the feeling of him in you so familiar and addictive. 

when you’re fully seated down on him, you start grinding your hips, his hands guiding you over his strong lap. 

“fuck, yeah-” he frowns, clenching his jaw, “just like that, good job, baby…”

you only whine in response, rocking your hips back and forth, his cock covered in your slick, arousal dripping down his balls. your bodies moving make the leather of the chair creak underneath you, the skin of your knees sticking to it because of the heat and sweat.

his hands go further into your robe, grabbing your asscheeks firmly. he’ll probably leave the trace of his fingers on your flesh, but you really don’t care. you love wearing his marks. 

you roll your hips over his lap vigorously, already out of breath, your chest heaving up and down rapidly. you remember that your tits are completely out when mark dives down, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it. the feeling makes you mewl, gripping the damp hair at the nape of his neck. 

he shifts to your other breast, giving your nipple the same treatment. he leaves plenty of kisses there, too, especially on the valley between your tits. when he pulls away, your skin shines in his spit. 

mark tries to suppress another groan from leaving his throat, but you hear it well and loud in your ear, letting you know he’s close. you clench around him, and he tightens his hold on your ass at that, nails digging into your soft, sweaty skin.

“mmm, baby,” he lets out an unbashful moan, throwing his head back before glancing at you, “you’re gonna be a good girl and take all of my cum, right?” 

you nod your head, excited to have him filling you up good like he always does.

“yeah,” he mimics the movement of your head, grinning. “you love it, don’t you? love being my little cumdump,” he purrs, and his words literally drive you crazy.

“love being yours,” you reply back, riding his cock when he suddenly stops you from moving.

he raises his hips from the chair, thrusting up in you. he takes control over you, slapping his hips upward until his cock twitches, spurts of cum flooding your pussy. at the same time, you hide your face in the crook of his neck, waves of pleasure shooting through you as you cum around him. 

his hips fall back down, now completely exhausted. his glasses fog up as he breathes out heavily, chasing the air back into his lungs. 

you eventually lift up your hips and mark’s cock slips out of your sore pussy. he looks down, a little chuckle escaping his mouth.

“weren’t lying when you said you’d make it messy, hm?”

gorgeous | lmh ( m )

there is a part 2!

you don’t know what in the football uniform mark is wearing is so attractive. maybe it’s how broad is shoulders always look in that jersey. maybe it’s how nicely accentuated his ass is when he’s running. or, maybe, just maybe, it’s how painfully conspicuous the outline of his cock is through those pants.  

or, you know. all of the above.  

pairing: mark x reader rating: R genre: college / football au, romance, humor, smut warnings: kind of feels like pwp with just a bit of background pining I guess, semi-public (?) sex, oral sex, just good ol’ fashioned smut perhaps with minimal dirty talk. nothing depraved (yet). please be sure that you are 18+ to read! word count: 12.4k

author’s notes: i literally have nothing to say like . i just wanted to post something that would gain me access into the 18+ section of the nctzen library i guess :^) this is once again an edited fic, but it is pretty unbeta’d, so i’d love for anyone to point out any mistakes they see! since this has explicit content, please do not read this unless you are of age! honesty is the best policy, everyone. :^) enjoy !

                                                       *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You know you’re done for the moment the sky opens up and starts raining.  

You can’t even get off the field and run from the rain because it’s all a part of the whole cheerleading gig; if the playing team’s on the field, then you have to be, too.  

Sometimes, you think that there are more drawbacks to being in this position. For one, it’s completely risk-heavy; you can’t remember a game where someone didn’t at least obtain a sprain or slip on the mud in front of five hundred people while trying to still look like everything’s fine. Pile on other issues, like having to cut back hours of free time in a week to practice, having to constantly fit and refit uniforms that you also have to shell out your own money for (because what else is the university’s budget for if not to pay for a yet another science lab?), and dealing with slightly catty teammates because on no particular day of the month is the entire team period-free, and you almost have a deal ready to be broken.  

Just almost, though.  

Keep reading

PORNSTAR MARTINI ﹒⌗﹒🍸﹒౨ৎ˚₊‧ 도영 + fem!reader

in which . . . a suspiciously handsome stranger you meet at a bar seems to pique your interest in all the wrong ways.

warnings | MDNI alcohol consumption, recklessness (pls don't do this irl), big dick doyoung agenda, oral m receiving, dom-leaning/switchy dy, degradation + praise, unprotected sex, doyoung is filthy and calls you his pornstar

word count | 5k

a/n | this literally started out as a timestamp. i really intended this to be just pure smut and something quick to write but what do you know.

10:33PM

it's your—what—second? third? cocktail of the night and you’re convinced that you’re still as sober the second you walked into this bar.

you trace over the rim of your empty glass with the tip of your middle finger mindlessly, your other arm hanging off the rest of the stool. with every loop that you make, the annoyance within you grows.

you can count the amount of customers in here on two hands, and on one if you’re only taking into account who’s actually sat at the bar. yet, the bartender’s attention is solely focused on the group of men sat on the opposite end of the counter.

3 of them are sat down while the last one stands, leaning forward on the glass counter. you can’t make out what they’re saying, but by the looks of it, you can probably assume that they’re regulars here.

this pisses you off even more.

you stare into the back of the bartender’s head, thinking that maybe if you tried hard enough, you could will him over here.

instead of willing him to turn his head, one of the men sat down in the group looks over at you. you glance back at him, and seeing as he doesn’t look away, you don’t either.

the man only holds out for a moment longer before he snaps his head away. with how far he is and the moody lighting, you can only barely make out what he looks like, but you swear he was smirking as he looked away.

great.

well, you suppose that this could be another way to get yourself another drink—the drink that you wanted to order about 15 minutes ago now.

in your head, you start counting down the 60 seconds that you’re predicting it will take before smirky stranger gets up and comes over to you.

you drop your eyes down onto the empty basin of your glass, wrapping your fingers around the stem and rocking it back and forth in your hand. as you reach 1, you catch the movement in your peripheral of someone pushing their bar stool out and getting up from over there.

as the man walks all the way down the bar over to you, you choose to pretend you don’t notice any of this.

“hey.”

you tilt your head. your eyes drag up the torso of the man slowly before scanning his face until you meet his eyes. he’s not bad looking.

“yes?” you raise your eyebrows, a somewhat critical look in your eyes.

now that he’s closer to you, you can see clearly the smirk that he’s wearing on his face as he leans on the counter with his forearm. “you here alone?” he swipes a stray strand of hair away from his forehead as he asks.

“does it matter?” you tuck your chin inwards slightly, eyes directly looking up at him.

the man hangs his head forward as he chuckles lightly. you notice him fidgeting with the ring on his hand.

“i like you,” he says, meeting your eyes again.

you sit back as far as you can on the bar stool. the leg you have over the other bounces rhythmically as you return to drawing circles over your glass.

you study the man’s face. the cockiness that he wears is one you know all too well. his unearned confidence seen in the way he’s standing lazily.

you glance at the ring on his finger, then back up at him, “what does your wife think about that?”

the expression on his face doesn’t slip. usually, that particular rhetorical question catches them off-guard, but without even missing a beat, he answers, “does it matter?”

the movement of your leg ceases. unable to tell whether he’s being sarcastic or not, you squeeze out a weak smile before getting off your stool. quickly grabbing your phone and your purse in one hand, you head past the man to the door of the bathrooms on the opposite wall—leaving him standing by the bar alone.

you hear the man calling out after you. as you make your way past his entourage on the other end of the bar, chuckles and murmurs can be heard from behind you. actively ignoring his yells, you head straight into the bathrooms without glancing back once, calling out, “i don’t fuck married losers,” before you disappear inside.

if you thought the bar was too dark before, the bathrooms do you one better. the wall tiles are black; the floors are glossy, and black; everything that you can see is painted black—with the exception of the golden sconces next to the mirrors over the sinks. but the light emanating from them is so dim they may as well not exist.

you balance your phone on top of the soap dispenser. rummaging through your purse, your fingers dig for the rectangular tube of lipstick in there; it being black as well really doesn’t help you out. and the fact that your head is starting to feel like the beginning stages of an implosion doesn’t benefit you much, either.

you finally pick out the small tube from your purse, uncapping it instinctively. you hold the lipstick in one hand as the other grips onto the edge of the sink, allowing you to lean forward into the mirror without toppling yourself over.

you go over your lips with the pigment as carefully as you can, perhaps too carefully. when you’re done, you drop the tube back inside your purse as you pull away from the mirror.

running a hand through your hair, you analyse your reflection. in your judgement, you think you can still pass for sober.

grabbing your phone, you hesitate before going back out again. what if the man’s still in your place?

whatever.

if he is, then you’ll take it as a sign to leave and go to another bar, pub, club—whatever—at least the bartenders there might actually do their job.

there’s a sense of dread forming in the pit of your stomach as you pull the door open. a feeling that’s quickly replaced by relief when you see the lack of boisterous men at the bar table.

you make your way over to where they previously were. sliding back up onto the stool, you wave over the now free bartender.

“a pornstar martini, please,” you say, trying to hold back your still-pending irritation from the events earlier.

looking straight ahead, you see that someone else has also occupied your previous space. you watch as he downs the entirety of what was in his whiskey glass and slams it down onto the counter. he doesn’t look up.

his black hair is gelled back but the day has allowed strands to fall out of place. his shoulders rise and fall visibly just once before he pushes his glass a few inches forward in front of him.

your cocktail is placed on a coaster alongside a small shot as the bartender pushes it towards you, murmuring a quiet, “enjoy.”

the first sip of anything alcoholic is always vile, no matter how much you’ve been drinking beforehand. you down the shot, feeling the acidity burn as it travels down your throat.

then, you alternate to sipping on the martini.

it’s now that you recall your new year’s resolution from the start of the year: drink less.

probably not the best time to stick to a resolution like that in the middle of the bar. but the increasing intensity of your headache is pleading with you to do so.

you’re already halfway through your drink before your moral consciousness kicks in. but the important thing is that it did, you tell yourself, as you push the glass with a third of what was in it left away.

you fish for the £20 notes that you know you shoved inside your purse somewhere. when you finally find them crumpled and hidden under your keys, you lay a couple of them out onto the bar table, sliding it under your drink.

before you can up and leave, the bartender hurriedly makes his way over to your end of the counter.

“miss, your bill is already covered.”

you look at him, somewhat puzzled. there was no way in your head that the guy you insulted like a middle schooler would’ve paid your bill for you.

and as if catching onto your facial cues, the bartender continues, “the gentleman over there covered it.”

you glance over in the direction he gestures towards, over at the only person on the other side of the bar.

“thanks,” you reply quietly and curtly. you take back one of the notes off the counter, and consider taking the other as well, but decide against it last second.

when you gaze over at the man who bought your drinks for you again, he doesn’t even look up.

you make your way over. the least you could do is thank the man who saved you 20 quid tonight, you thought.

the closer you get, the more visible his features become to you. the last guy wasn’t bad looking, but the man sitting there is clearly not on the same level.

his face is of full of sharp, angular planes. the way his cheekbones catch the light from above, you can swear he looks something out of a painting.

“hi,” the coyness in your voice being something that made you want to punch yourself over.

the man doesn’t even so much so as spare you a glance as he takes another sip of his now-replenished drink, one that you're presuming to be whiskey.

“can i help you?”

his tone is somewhat surprising to you, to an extent. you’re used to being the standoffish one in the conversation, not the other way around.

you reposition your stance, standing up taller than before. "figured i'd thank you for the drinks." didn't expect you to be a prick, though.

that earns you a small smirk from him. he rests the drink on top of his pinky, his thumb grazing over the ridges in the glass. he purses his lips for a quick second as he swallows his sip, "well, you've thanked me."

he looks at you for the first time. his eyes hooded and slender, the glassiness of them shrouded in the dark atmosphere.

you nod, "i have."

he rips his focus from you back onto the dark liquor he's swirling around in his glass. giving no sign of further conversation, your body begins to turn towards the exit on its own accord. you take one step forward, the heel of your shoe clicking against the marble flooring.

then, you stop.

something about the man sat there piques a morbid curiosity within you. there's some sort of... magnetic allure that you can't simply walk away from.

you double back over to him. "you know, mr..."

"kim," he follows seamlessly. once again, he doesn't even look up at you, as if he expected you to turn back. "kim doyoung."

"right," you regard him fixedly. "and what exactly do you want from me?"

doyoung clasps his hands together and sighs dramatically. he peers at you out of the corner of his eyes, "what makes you think i want anything from you?"

the line between rudeness and banter has never been stretched thinner in your entire life, and you really can't tell what side he's on.

you put your purse on the counter, leaning in closer as you do so. "does this act usually work for you?"

a strange semblance of pride resonates in your chest as he turns his head to face you.

"what do you mean by that?"

"i'm asking: do you usually get laid by acting like you have a stick up your ass?"

he looks amused, "i have a stick up my ass?"

your eyes dart across his face in a confused, and slightly defensive manner.

"oh, i'm sorry. at least my ego isn't so big that i go around thinking everyone wants to sleep with me."

you push yourself up onto the stool next to him, "yeah, i really don't believe that."

doyoung watches as you position yourself comfortably on the seat. then, he leans in, closer than you'd expected and whispers.

"then, don't."

he leans back into his seat. one hand rested on top of the counter as the other throws the rest of the drink back in a huge swig. his face doesn't even so much as flinch when he swallows it; even just watching him makes your throat burn. he sets down his glass and gets up. snaking a hand around to the back pocket of his trousers, he pulls out his wallet, and from that, a 50 pound note.

he slides the money forward and shoves the wallet back inside his pocket. your gaze follows him as he begins to walk off, though, not in the direction of the exit.

stopping a few feet away, he turns his head back around to you, "you coming?"

on a regular night, you'd probably say 'no' to going somewhere with a stranger. an even higher likelihood if you don't know the where it is that you're even going. but you don't meet curiously handsome strangers on regular nights. and although you follow him, you're still well aware that this could possibly be the dumbest idea you've ever had.

he leads you down a hallway, as dimly lit as the rest of the place. at the end of it is a locked door that he conveniently has the keys for. who this man is and why he has keys to doors in this place, you truly do not know.

behind the lock is a lounge. a vip lounge in fact, as it suggests on the door. you step through the doorway and doyoung pushes the door shut behind you. you drop your things onto the couch right next to you and he tosses his keys on top of some side table.

you look up at him, suddenly being all too aware of every limb hanging from your body.

fuck.

you try to steel your undeniable nerves.

is this where you die?

no.

stop jumping to conclusions.

to the best of your ability, you try to ignore your speeding heart rate. "i thought you said you didn't want anything from me."

doyoung stands facing you, head slightly tilted back. slowly, he unbuttons the cuffs of his sleeves. "question is..." his voice drags out as he rolls his sleeves up to the elbows, "what do you want from me?"

his velvety tone puts your prior conjectures to rest. and now with the added knowledge that he probably doesn't want to kill you, you expected your nervousness to cease. yet, it doesn't.

perhaps it makes you even more nervous knowing he wants to fuck you rather than kill you.

if you were a virgin, that would make sense. but how fast the man standing before you makes your heart beat, how tense he makes your chest feels is the furthest thing from making sense.

you can only take the pumping in your chest for so long and you're blaming the alcohol, but the only thing running through your mind now is the image of you pushed up against him.

not wanting to restrain yourself any longer, you crash into his torso. arms reaching up and wrapping around his neck as your lips meet.

his hands pull you in closer by the waist. your lips envelope his perfectly, as if they were sculpted from each other. his lips are warm, the taste of whiskey now confirming your earlier assumptions. a faint hint of a minty aroma emanates from his skin.

using your arms to leverage yourself, you press your chest tighter against him, earning you a muffled hum as he kisses you deeper.

his palms drop from your waist to your thighs, kneading the muscle underneath slowly with his fingers.

you pull yourself away, breathless.

he looks at you in a way he hasn’t done previously the last few times. it’s like he’s looking at you expectantly; for an answer, a sign, anything.

“don’t tell me you’re not getting anything from this,” you breathe.

“did i say that?” you catch the end of his brow flicking upwards before kissing him again.

you run a hand down his chest, feeling the contours of his body underneath the button-up shirt.

your lips are pushed against his so hard that you’re beginning to feel the pressure from them. you force yourself to break away, catching your breath. through an exchange of lustful glances, you trail your fingertips all the way down his torso to his belt. you can tell he’s trying to hold back a smirk at your teasing.

you bring your other hand down to help with the unbuckling of his belt. suddenly, you feel the firm hold of his hand on one of your wrists, stopping your movements.

“you’re gonna let me have it that easy?” his grip on you loosening a little.

you look up at him with a sly smile playing on your lips, “you said i have a big ego,” you hook your fingers inside of his belt, “i’m trying to prove i don’t.”

using some strength, you pull him off of the wall that you pushed him up against and swing him around so now he's in your spot, back towards the couch. with a single finger, you push his shoulder back and compliantly, he plumps down onto the seat.

you kneel in between his legs. without wasting a second, your hands land on his knees and forcefully push them wider apart to make room for yourself.

just simply watching you seems to make him revel in pleasure. as you undo his belt, doyoung leans back and helps in whatever way he can by lifting his hips. your fingers slip inside the waistband of his trousers and pull them all the way down in one swift motion.

the cloth of his boxer briefs is stretched tight by the bulge underneath.

you sit back on your heels, hands running up his thighs slowly before stopping just shy of the hemline.

"are you going to ask?" you bat your eyelashes up at him.

his bottom lip recoils from being bitten back by his teeth. "you're fucking bossy, aren't you?"

"fine," you begin to pull down his shorts. "i'll make it easier for you." slowly, and that's agonisingly slow, you tug at the band, inching it lower and lower until it springs up in front of you. the tip of it passing your eye level.

you drag the briefs down to his ankles at a much quicker pace.

you wrap one hand, then the other around the shaft of his dick, and still there's the head of it left, burning pink and red. you watch him watch you. his breathing deepens as you give him a lazy stroke.

"do you want me to suck your cock?" a raspiness in your voice that tells him you want this as bad as he does.

"yes," doyoung breathes out, eyes focused on your hands. then, he looks at you, "please."

satisfied with his response, you begin to wrap your lips around the head of his cock. your tongue swirls over the tip of it, eliciting a quiet moan from him. your hands working together pump up and down his shaft in unison—you feel every vein between your fingers.

you can already feel it filling up your mouth with both of your hands still on it. you breathe in as deeply as you can before sinking your head down a little further. the strained moans that he lets slip does more for your ego than the both of you probably realise.

as you go deeper on his cock, you take away one of your hands to let yourself more space. you're only halfway down when you feel the tip hit the back of your throat. at that, you start to push back up. dragging your wet lips on his cock and letting his dick slowly slide out of your mouth as you pull yourself back.

you stroke the entire length of his dick with your hand while you readjust how you're kneeling in front of him. your attention entirely focused on his cock, you don't even notice his arm reaching out to you until his thumb lands on your face and his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up at him.

he hovers his thumb over your lips, gently grazing over them as he wipes something from the corner of your mouth.

you shoot a look at him with your eyebrows raised and he lets go—as if apologising for interrupting you—and his arm falls back beside him on the couch.

refocusing your attention, you spit onto the tip of his dick and smear it together with the precum dripping out from him, covering his entire shaft with it.

you work in a few rubs with your hand before taking him in your mouth again. as the tip of his dick hits your throat, you begin bobbing your head up and down while your hand works the remainder of his shaft.

it’s clear that he’s trying to hold back his sounds, but every time your teeth grazes a vein, he can’t help but groan. you watch him carefully as he throws his head back in ecstasy, hands balling up beside him.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he drawls breathily.

the muscles in his thighs twitch. he brings a hand up over his forehead and bites down hard on his lip. doyoung knows that if he were to look at you right now, he would lose it.

your hand reaches the base of his cock, and instead of sliding it back up, you give it a tight squeeze. this has him bucking his hips up into you, thrusting his dick deeper down your throat. “shit,” he pants, with his voice finally above a half-whisper.

he can’t help it; he has to watch. his eyes meet yours—pure euphoria in them. he keeps his steady gaze on you as you take his cock deeper and deeper every time.

a piece of your hair falls in front of your face and doyoung reaches out to push it behind your ear. he runs his fingers through your hair, gathering it all behind you and holding it back in a ponytail.

slowly, slowly, slowly, you drag your lips up. you make sure your tongue swirls over the tip over and over before you finally pull away.

“look at you,” he curses under his breath. “sucking my cock like a fucking pornstar.”

you have to hold back a smirk from showing on your lips. and suddenly, you become too aware of the lipstick that is most definitely smeared all over you.

“get up,” his voice takes on a demanding tone. one that makes you obey his words without even giving it a second thought.

using the back of your hand, you wipe away the drool on your chin as well as your smudged lipstick.

doyoung holds his palms out, waiting for you to take them. as you place your hands in his, he pulls them closer towards him.

you plant one knee next to his hip on the couch, followed by the other so that you’re straddling him. doyoung intertwines his fingers with yours. he brings your left hand towards him, softly kissing your fingers and your knuckles.

“you want to show me how good you can be, don’t you?” he mutters in between brushing your fingers over his lips.

you only nod in response, entranced by his fluttering touches.

"lift this up," he nods his head down at your skirt. without hesitation, you pull the hem of your skirt up over your hips.

the tip of his cock is directly under your clothed cunt. you roll your hips back, grazing against the head. doyoung bites back a chuckle, "i can't believe you're this fucking wet."

you suck on the inside of your cheek, "i can't believe you're this fucking hard."

he smiles lazily, "well, i wouldn't want to offend you."

you land a soft blow to his chest, one void of any real strength. this does nothing but amuse him further.

he cocks his head to the side. "pull them over," he eyes your lace panties.

you slide a finger underneath the sheer fabric, bunching it together and pushing it to the side. your bare cunt practically dripping on doyoung's dick. subconsciously, your hips start grinding back and forth, brushing your folds against his tip.

you're this close to sinking down on his dick when doyoung stops you with a single tap of his finger and a look.

"uh-uh. where are your manners?"

the smugness on his expression leaves you no choice but to roll your eyes at him. "fuck you," you spit out.

"yeah, i don't think that's the magic word," he leans back onto the couch.

"seriously?"

"if you want this dick inside you, you better ask for it, princess."

seeing how stubborn he is, you decide to play along. you lean your body closer towards him, arms once again wrapping around his neck. you plant a quick peck on his lips, then another on his cheek. your kisses trail all the way to the top of his ear before whispering deliberately slowly.

"i want you to fuck me senseless."

his expression says he's unaffected but the twitching from below you suggests otherwise. doyoung looks at you contentedly but still not giving in, yet.

you pull the top of his ear in between your teeth, softly biting down, causing him to grunt quietly.

"please."

immediately, it's like something switches on inside of him. he lines his dick up with your pussy, and without warning, thrusts his hips up into you.

you choke out a moan, the sudden stretch being almost too much for you to take.

he grunts, pushing himself deeper inside you inch by inch. "fuck, you okay?"

despite wanting to speak, the only thing that comes out of you are whines and whimpers, so you resort to nodding your head eagerly instead.

"you can take it, can't you?" doyoung groans, a noise so deep and guttural as he pushes the last of his length inside you.

he throws his head back once he's all the way inside. just the sight of your pussy swallowing the whole of him drives him insane.

he stays still inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. his fingers grip tightly onto your hips, his thumbs digging into your pelvis.

your eyes are clamped shut. you don't want to say it but his dick inside you makes you feel like you're getting split into two. your knees can barely hold you up, having to claw your nails into his shoulders to support yourself.

doyoung reads your expression carefully as he slides himself out, and then in. slow at first. so slow that it feels torturous for him when the only thing on his mind is fucking you dumb.

the more he thrusts, the more you begin to take pleasure in this. building up a steady pace, his hands hold you in place as the sound of your skin slapping onto each other echo in the room.

the friction occasionally rubbing against your aching clit works you into a frenzy.

doyoung begins to pound into you faster and harder, illiciting a long string of curses from you. crying out, you let yourself slump over his shoulder as he bounces you up and down his cock.

you can hear his heavy breathing right next to your ear. "this pussy was made to be fucked like this, wasn't it?" he spits in between his groans. "perfect little slut, made to take big dick so well, huh?"

in all honesty, your mind is clouded by the sole desire to cum. not hearing a word he says, but you agree anyway with tears threatening to spill out the corner of your eyes.

you reach a hand down, rubbing tight circles on your clit. the need to cum has made you desperate. willing to do anything to just to push yourself that little further.

nothing can turn doyoung on more than seeing the desperation scrawled across your face. every time he pounds into you, the tip of his cock twitches inside, swiping against your g-spot.

“my pretty slut’s gonna cum? huh?”

you whine in response, the ability to form coherent words absolutely out the window by now.

“fucking do it then.”

you bury your face in the crook of his neck as you’re nearing the verge of your orgasm. the muscles in your leg begin to spasm.

“cum all over this dick, baby, i know you can do it.”

his sudden use of the pet name for you completely unravels you with his dick all the way inside. legs shaking uncontrollably. you clench around his cock, your pussy walls tightening the harder you come.

as you gush all over the entirety of his dick, doyoung can’t hold out any longer. your screams of pure ecstasy drives him to his orgasm, shooting thick ropes of cum inside of you. his hips buck sharply, pushing his cum into the deepest crevice of your womb.

his jaw hangs slack, eyes closed as waves of pleasure ripple through him. his chest rises and falls dramatically, hands shaky although he tries to steady them on your hips.

“fuck,” you both repeat as you begin to come down from your high.

no longer blinded by your orgasm, you can still feel his cock throbbing inside of you, twitching as your cunt drains the last of his cum out of him.

breathing heavily, you meet his lust-filled gaze.

your thumb runs up his jaw lightly, drawing yourself closer to his face. visible beads of sweat form by his hairline.

you press a soft kiss onto his lips. smirking, you watch him keep his eyes closed for a few more seconds, revelling in the euphoria he’s experiencing.

you reduce your voice to nothing but a whisper, “that definitely doesn’t help my ego.”