Watch Your Attitude
Masterlist
Pairings: Mark Tuan x Reader
Word Count: 1,793 words
Warnings: Language, Smut
Hoho, this is my first time writing a smut. Don't come at me if it disappoints (I tried 😭). Plus, Mark reading his thirst tweets inspired me to create one right away.
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You fucking hate Mark Tuan’s guts. He and his friends strut down the halls like they own the damn place, but to you? They look like a bunch of losers trying way too hard to be cool.
Every time they pass, you can’t help but roll your eyes. Except, one day, Mark catches you.
"Do you have a fucking problem?" His voice is sharp as he stalks toward you, hands tucked in his pockets.
Your brow arches as he closes the distance, arms folding over your chest. "No. Do you?" You don’t hesitate, chin held high.
The hallway stills. Students stop what they’re doing, eyes flicking between you and Mark, tension thick in the air.
"Come on, man. It's not worth it." JayB calls out, tugging at Mark’s arm.
You smirk. "Listen to your friend, Mr. Hotshot." You turn to leave, but before you can take a step, he leans in way too close.
"Watch your fucking attitude," he murmurs, voice low, almost teasing. "I'd love to see that when I bend you over."
A chill shoots down your spine. Heat creeps up your cheeks. Normally, a comment like that would earn him a slap, a sharp comeback but for some reason, your tongue is tied.
His smirk deepens. "Good girl," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin before he pulls away, turning back to his friends like he just won something.
And damn it, maybe he did.
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You're peacefully scrolling through your phone, a lollipop lazily resting between your lips, when a firm hand grabs your waist, yanking you into a dark, empty classroom.
"What the fuck—"
Before you can fully react, another hand presses against the back of your neck, guiding you forward until your hands brace against a desk. Your lollipop flying somewhere.
"Let me go before I kick your balls, Tuan," you snap, twisting slightly, but his grip is firm.
"Ooh, scary." His voice drips with amusement, low and taunting. "But tell me, princess, if you really wanted me to stop, wouldn't you be fighting a little harder?"
His fingers trail along your thigh, brushing the hem of your skirt, and you try not to react but he catches the way your breath hitches.
"Just what the fuck do you want?" you demand, your voice sharp. "And get your damn hands off me."
He chuckles, and somehow... the sound sends a shiver down your spine.
"Princess," he murmurs, "I told you before, I wanted to see that attitude when I bent you over. And guess what? You didn’t disappoint." He leans in, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "Now I want to see if you still have that bite when you're begging for more."
Your heart hammers against your ribs. You should push him away, tell him to fuck off but the worst part? You're not sure you want to.
When he lifts your skirt slightly, your breath catches. Your body betrays you, arching just enough to give him an invitation you shouldn't be offering.
"Careful, princess," he muses, his palm resting against the curve of your ass. "You're slipping out of character."
Before you can fire back, his hand comes down in a sharp, teasing smack. You gasp except what comes out isn’t a protest. It’s a sound you don’t mean to make.
His smirk is practically audible. "Oh? Was that a moan?"
Your breath catches when Mark’s fingers brush against you, teasing, testing. His touch is deliberate, like he’s savoring every reaction.
"Oh?" His voice is laced with amusement. "Good girl. Already this wet for me?"
You bite your lip, determined not to make a sound but the way he moves his fingers, slow and purposeful, makes it impossible to stay silent. A sharp inhale slips past your lips as he deepens his touch, pushing into you further into the moment.
"Tell me," he murmurs, his lips grazing your ear. "Did that turn you on?"
Your hips move instinctively, chasing the sensation. Just as you’re about to lose yourself, he stops.
A frustrated whine escapes you before you can stop it.
"Use your words, princess," he taunts.
Your pride wars with your need, but he's too good, and you both know it. He starts to pull away, and panic surges through you.
"Fuck—yes!" The words burst out before you can stop them. "I want more."
Mark chuckles, satisfied. "That’s more like it."
He picks up right where he left off, and this time, you don’t hold back. You don’t care who hears.
"I want the same energy when I’m inside you, princess," he murmurs, voice dark and commanding. "Keep moaning for me."
"Yes, Mark! Fuck, faster!"
The pressure builds, your grip tightening against the desk. Just as you’re about to fall over the edge, his voice cuts through the haze.
"Don't you fucking dare," he warns, grip tightening. "You'll come when I tell you to."
You hear the slow, deliberate sound of Mark unbuckling his belt, the soft rustle of fabric as he pushes his pants and boxers down. Curiosity wins over, and you glance back only for your breath to hitch at the sight of him.
Your eyes widen. Oh.
Mark catches you staring, and a slow smirk spreads across his lips. "What's wrong, princess? Not so mouthy now, huh?"
He steps closer, the heat radiating from him making your skin prickle with anticipation. You swallow hard, instinctively tensing as you feel him against you, teasing, testing your limits.
"Let's see if you still have that attitude," he murmurs, voice low and taunting.
You gasp at the sensation, your grip on the desk tightening. Every nerve in your body is on edge, torn between anticipation and the undeniable intensity of the moment.
"Fuck, you're tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips. The tension between pleasure and challenge hangs thick in the air, pushing you further into the moment.
A sharp, unrestrained moan escapes your lips, nails digging into the wood beneath your palms.
"Fuck, Mark!"
His grip tightens. "That's right, princess. Keep saying my name."
He moves, slow at first, teasing, testing before finding a rhythm that leaves you breathless. All you can do is cling to the desk, moaning like a mess, lost in the sensation.
"Fuck you, Mark Tuan!" you manage to gasp, though your voice betrays you, laced with something dangerously close to surrender.
Mark chuckles, his grip tightening. "Oh, princess," he taunts, his breath hot against your skin. "That's exactly what you're getting."
His hand moves, fingers pressing against you just right, and suddenly, the tension inside you snaps. A sharp cry escapes your lips as pleasure crashes through you, leaving you trembling beneath him.
Mark follows seconds after, releasing his load inside you, his grip tightening as he groans low in satisfaction, his breath warm against your shoulder.
You nod frantically, barely able to form words, lost in the overwhelming sensation.
For a moment, the only sound in the room is the heavy rhythm of your breathing, the lingering heat between you still crackling like electricity in the air. Then, finally, he leans in, lips brushing against your ear.
"Good girl," he murmurs, smug and satisfied.
And damn it, you don't even have the energy to argue.
Once Mark is fully dressed, belt buckled, he turns back to you. Without a word, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief to clean you up, wiping away the mess on your thigh. You watch, still catching your breath, as he casually tucks it back into his pocket like it’s nothing.
"That’s nasty," you mutter, fixing your hair.
He chuckles. "I’m gonna frame it in my room."
You wince. That’s disgusting. And yet... kind of hot?
Before you can dwell on that thought, he steps closer, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The unexpected softness throws you off, but what really shocks you is what he says next.
"Come on, let’s eat. I’ll buy you another lollipop." A smirk tugs at his lips. "I get turned on watching you have it in your mouth."
Before you can respond, he leans in, pressing a quick peck on your lips—then another on your cheek. Your brain short-circuits.
"Wait—" You blink at him, trying to process. "Is this you asking me out?"
Mark smirks. "If it weren’t for that attitude of yours, I might’ve asked you properly. But this isn’t bad, I guess."
A chuckle slips past your lips as you shake your head, but you don’t pull away when he grabs your hand. Instead, you let him lead you out of the abandoned classroom like it’s the most normal thing in the world as if he hadn’t just bent you over that desk five minutes ago.
Just what the hell happened?
Stepping into the hallway, you barely take two steps before you run into Yugyeom and Bambam. They stop dead in their tracks, eyes wide, jaws practically on the floor.
Mark shoots them a glare, and they immediately look away but not before you hear Yugyeom whisper to Bambam, "They both smell like sex."
Your eye twitches.
"They must’ve done it in that poor classroom," Bambam replies, shaking his head like he’s disappointed.
You roll your eyes. "You know I can hear you, right?"
Mark squeezes your hand. "Ignore them."
"I am."
But just as you think you’re in the clear, Mark suddenly stops walking. You nearly crash into his back.
He glances over his shoulder, and with that damn smirk still on his lips, he says, "Man, you really need to keep that attitude in check."
Your mouth drops open, realization hitting you like a freight train.
Oh, he’s really gonna fuck your attitude out.
